Swearing, Part 2

I like to swear and I swear a lot. I can't drive without swearing at other drivers. Is swearing a problem? At times, it can be unprofessional when used inappropriately at work. It can be hurtful when swearing at someone else. Otherwise, I am fine with it. It is like chewing gum, another vice of mine. It is kind of gross but meh.

Apparently, the US Youth Soccer League thinks swearing is bad all of the time. They have a new rule where any player who swears on the field will get a red card for three games.

Seriously.

One of the best and most fiery boys on my son's soccer team was jacked for three games because he dropped an f-bomb on the field. Their coach was subsequently jacked from three games for saying the call was bullshit. I am not sure how many people if anyone knew that was a rule besides this ref. Trying to get a group of physically aggressive teenage boys from not swearing would be one mean feat.

Today at my son's soccer game, I ran into the mom of the boy who got the red card for swearing. I told I thought her son's ejection from the game was ridiculous.

"I don't think I could go a week without swearing," I said to the mom.

"I don't think I could, either," she said.

I had to leave the game early to wait for the cable guy at the condo. As I was driving downtown, someone cut me off while they were making a right turn on red while I had a green.

"Douchebag," I said to the man in the Denali/Suburban/Mt. Everest size truck who tried to cut me off. Drivers who make a right on red directly in front of oncoming traffic with a green light should be deported. I don't care if their ancestors came over on the Mayflower. In that case, they should be deported back to England or wherever. I suppose Native Americans can stay since they were here first, but I'll still swear at them.

Okay, where was I? I dropped the thread. Swearing. I also flip people off while I drive, but I hold my low enough so they don't see it. Seattle is so polite I don't want to offend anyone, but I sure feel better knowing that I am giving them the bird while they can't see it. Also, when I swear, other drivers usually can't tell I'm swearing. When make a rude hand gesture, they know I am trying to communicate with them. Not only is Seattle polite, but it is small. I am afraid that if I flip another driver off, it might be someone I know. It has happened before and it is very embarrassing.

And so my goal of not swearing for a week didn't make it past a five mile drive. I am going to try again, starting at 11:00 p.m. before I go to bed. I likely don't swear in my sleep so I'll have a nice eight hour cushion to start the week.

I get to the condo to wait for the cable guy, whose visit was a disaster. (Insert worst story of cable guy visit, which ties with more than half of all cable guy visits on the planet.) Then I get a text from Jack:

"The Boy got a yellow card for dropping an f-bomb."

My first thought was I am glad it wasn't a red card. And then I thought I was to blame. Now I am not one of those parents who racks up tons of guilt for all of the crap their kids do. In this case, however, I think I have the right to feel a little guilt. Perhaps if I wasn't such a potty mouth, maybe my son would swear less.

When I got back home, Jack told me the story of rough play, an opposing team player down on the ground, and the parents of the other team calling for the head of one of the Boy's teammates to be served to them on a platter. Refs and coaches were called to discuss, while the parents on the other team boil to a froth.

"Shut the fuck up," said the Boy yelled to the parents on the other team, particularly one very loud and hostile parent in an orange poncho suggesting to the ref that someone on the Boy's team be kicked out of the game.

This is not the first time the Boy has said this to parents on the opposing team. Last time this happened, the other team's parents actually did shut up. Being called out for boorish behavior by a fifteen year old can have that effect.

After the game, I asked the Boy what happened. "One of the parents was heckling our team, I heckled him back, and then he shut up."

"The guy in the orange poncho was being a total jerk. Action needed to be taken," he said. "After I yelled, the guy was ashamed and he went off and hid at the end of the field by some trees, although it is hard to hide in an orange poncho. I won that argument. What a pussy."

While I don't exactly condone my son's behavior, he did stand up to what he thought was bad behavior, albeit with bad language. The two people I feel most sorry for here are the ref and the son of the guy in the orange poncho. I would imagine the worst part of being a ref for youth sports is being harassed by parents. One ref once thanked the parents on the Boy's team for being civilized. But we are. Our kids are fired up enough. We don't need to add fuel.

And the boy of the orange poncho. Sometimes mild mannered people lose their shit when their kids play sports. Sometimes assholes have kids who play youth sports and use the soccer pitch as a venue for sharing with the world their true nature.

While in this case, swearing was unfortunately effectively, sometimes we are not so lucky. I should know better. I am going to try to go a whole week without swearing. I'll keep you posted.