Soggy devotion

Last weekend I spent a lot of time standing on the sidelines. watching my nephew playing rugby and my son playing football.
 A lot of the time it was raining so hard that the players could barely see the ball or hear our cheers and groans.
But even though they couldn't always hear us and even though our devotion was rain-drenched, my son and my nephew knew we were there. 
And sometimes knowing that someone is there, rooting for you, whatever the weather is almost ( though not quite )as important as winning.
The under 9s rugby tournament on Saturday was in a beautiful,  Hogwarts-like boarding school just outside Bristol. The perfectly mowed rugby pitches were in the middle of rolling green fields surrounded by age old woods.

All Hallows, Somerset

The view from the rugby pitch

The under 15s football match on Sunday was at Durrington Recreation Ground, near Brighton, its mud-worn pitch  bordered by roads and housing estates.
But in the end it doesn't matter how rich or poor you are.
It doesn't matter how perfectly mowed or unevenly muddy the pitch is . 
It doesn't matter if the sun is shining or the rain beating down ( except for the dirt and mud factor ).
What matters is that, when you turn to look, there is someone there cheering you on from the sidelines, Someone who cares enough to give up their time just for you. 
The emptiness in the eyes of the kids who have no one there is the same, whatever their background.
Sadness is a great equaliser.
And giving your time as a parent or an adult, is one of the hardest things to do. 
There is always something else you should be doing.
Why does sacrificing something you would rather be doing to do something your would rather not, make any sense?
If no one ever did it for you, why would you do it for anyone else?
When the rain was beating down and we were soaked to the skin and the players were covered in mud and it wasn't even half- time yet, I found myself dreaming of hot baths, warm, steamy kitchens or any form of shelter with a roof.
But in my heart, I knew that  I was in the right place. 
I knew how proud my nephew was that  his " grown-up," cousins were watching him 
( I don't think his old aunt was quite such a coup !).
I saw how often Joss glanced to check I was watching.
Sometimes it's only when you actually give your time, that you realise you haven't actually given up anything.
And I hope that if, one day, Joss or my little nephew have children of their own, they will be standing, watching willingly from the sidelines, however soggy their devotion.