theblogofthehandoftamm

Did I mention I took my elder son to his first Toronto FC match the other day? It was to be the last of the season and the little feller had been pestering me about seeing a match for months already. Worried that he might put a cramp into my usual drinking ‘n’ braying routine, I had been holding off until he would reach an age of maturity. Given that I haven’t achieved such heights myself and, thinking that he might be useful for sneaking flares into the stadium, I relented and promised a trip to the supporters’ section straight away.

Before we could leave the house, I made a lot of threats about how children who don’t nap don’t get to see matches and how telling mom about what I do at the field will result in a future without allowances, no visits from Santa Claus, and no insulin for those who develop juvenile diabetes. Once my pockets were full of projectiles and mini-bar stock, I said it was time to go, only to be horrified by Mrs. thehandoftamm’s insistence on wrapping the dude up in hats, gloves, winter boots, parkas and the lot –despite the fact that it was 20 degrees and sunny out. The first half was already starting and I rationalized that any abuse he took for being overdressed would be offset by the extra padding should a trampling begin in the stands.

(more…)