Touched by Jesus

Hannah decided to join rec soccer this spring.  No, it wasn't because she wanted to prepare for trying out for Fall soccer.  No, it wasn't because she wanted some exercise.  No, it wasn't because she wanted to make the 2 days a week at the field turn into 4 days a week for me.  The reason?  Her boyfriend (I'm barfing in my mouth, but we'll talk more on that later) is playing rec.  No, they are not on the same team, silly.  Hannah is too competitive for that.  She wants to beat his team.


Last Tuesday night they had their first game.  


Remember.  My girl is 5'5" or so and weighs about 110?  She is a ninth grader.  A YOUNG ninth grader.  She decided (with my permission) to play in a high school 9-12 coed rec league.  So yes, there are men playing on the team.  Full grown men.


Hannah runs out on the field, which this is good for her on so many levels...she doesn't know ANYONE on her team, she has a great NEW coach...all good things.  Hannah runs out on the field and plays a fine game, she was a little timid, but her team slaughters the other team.  


During the game I notice that one of the boys on the other team is HUGE, has long curly brown hair that has to be contained in a pony tail, and a full grizzly Adams beard.  He truly looks like the Living Bible Caucasian Jesus from the 1980s.


At the end of the match the teams line up to smack hands and say the prerequisite "good game" and a member of the opposing team smacks Hannah's hand.  Hannah runs over to me excitedly and exclaims, "I touched Jesus!  He told me I did a good job!  I touched Jesus!"


Apparently every freshman at school calls the man with the long hair and beard Jesus, and when they do?  He flips them off.