First day of school; last game of the season

Goodness me, I was busy today. It was one of those days when, fortified by an abysmal night’s sleep, I managed to be productive. Adrenal gland still works. So rare are these days now, that I have to mark them down in the diary (with a large red asterisk, in case you were wondering). I laid out my tasks, put them in order of importance, and got them done. Well done, me. Of course, said tasks were of no great importance, but they had all been hanging over me for God knows how long, so it felt good to cross them off the mental to-do list, where they had been flying round in the temporal lobe for far too long, banging into each other and starting to make noise.
 
Then, I began to realise that there might be another reason for the accomplishment: yes, the silence; it was the first day of school, or as parents all over Ontario know it, the FIRST DAY OF SCHOOL. Ottawacker Jr. had, in all fairness, risen early enough, got himself ready, and gone out of the door with some speed. I think he is happy to be back – and even if the day promised a meeting with the Dreaded Madame D, he didn’t seem too upset by it. I’m not sure I can remember many of my “first days at school”. I can remember changing schools – from the Infants to the Primary School (both Sudley, in Liverpool), and then crossing the road to get to the senior school. Those first days, filled with terror, are etched in my mind. Lining up outside the mobiles for primary school, wearing an unfamiliar uniform for senior. I wonder how many of these days he’ll remember?
 
Probably not many, I suspect. He has great equanimity when it comes to things – far better than I. His stride rarely seems to lengthen or shorten, regardless of how many things he has to take into it. When he came back from school, around 4pm, he was happy. The Dreaded Madame D had on her best behaviour – “you could tell she was making an effort to be nice,” he said, “it was the first day.” He had found a couple of kids that he knew in his class, but it seems the reason he is in this group is because it contains most of the kids who had merged from another school. (Alta Vista Elementary goes up to Grade 8, many other schools only go up to Grade 6 before they have to move elsewhere. As I said, it is an insanely stupid school system.) I don’t think they actually did much work – but he did mention having music and was trying to decide whether to continue with wind (trombone) or move to strings (cello). I love the cello; I would love him to play it well (my dad was a superb and polyvalent musician, so there is a chance – apparently that gene only skips one generation); I am not sure I could cope with the learning process or his playing it badly. But, I suppose, he wouldn’t bring the instrument home from school…
 
Another example of his taking things in his stride came later in the day, when we had to pick up his friend and team mate Lucas and then go out to furthest reaches of Ottawa for the final match of the season. It was a sort of play-off, I suppose, although not given the official title thereof. The league had decided that a 12th match had to be played to justify the exorbitant fees they charge, and it was first vs. second: OSU White vs. OISC. In the league game, OSU had won 3-1 and been the better side (although Ottawacker Jr.’s team had been missing six regular players). While OSU had gone through the whole season winning every match, OISC had been more prosaic in its results, winning nine and losing two. It had been quite an eagerly anticipated game – but you wouldn’t know it to hear the two boys laughing and giggling in the back seats of the car.
 
The game, when it finally happened, was the best of the season. It was a proper game of football. OSU scored two goals late in the first half, which had been keenly contested and very even. The second half was, though, pretty much one way traffic – just not in the way I had expected. Ottawacker Jr.’s team was excellent, winning all of the challenges and keeping OSU at bay. With 10 minutes left, they got a penalty, and scored, to make it 2-1. And, then, two minutes from the end, the equalising goal. Cue delight.
 
Cue despair. From the kick off, OSU made a rare foray up the field and won a corner. The corner was duly delivered, with the ball bouncing around in the area, until C, a defender on Ottawacker Jr.’s team, miscued it onto an opponent’s knee and it looped up and over Ottawacker Jr. to make it 3-2 for OSU. I was about to compose a mental speech saying how well they had done and what testicular fortitude they had shown to get back into the game, when they showed even more testicular fortitude and hit the crossbar. And then, still pressing, they won a corner and then another corner and then another. And from this corner, they had a shot cleared off the line, and then won another penalty. Rhys Masson stood up to take it again, and scored to make it 3-3. Cue delight.
 
From there, for the last minutes of additional time, there was only one team in it. And while OISC didn’t manage to get the winner, they came very close.
 
What astounded me most was not how well OISC played (although they did and it did), it was how badly OSU collapsed. That, for me, is the problem with their model. They try to hoover up all the talent in the region, make really strong sides, then have nobody to play against. Their games this season (aside from the 3-1 win against OISC) have been 12-2; 11-1; 5-3; 6-0; 12-1; 3-0; 14-0; 6-2; 4-0. All season, they will have learned nothing. Whereas Ottawacker Jr.’s team has comprised weaker players, who have all developed, and who have coalesced to form a really good team. Their coach, Dele Osikomaiya, has done a fantastic job.
 
Anyway, after the muted celebrations at a great game (but not quite the result they wanted), we went with Rebekkah and Felix to Burgers and Shakes. Here, you will be unsurprised to learn, they boys had burgers and shakes. A nice way to round off the season. Then, we drove Lucas home, and settled in to watch the last half of an episode of Signora Volpe.