Columns & Editorials

I don’t remember the hot games being this hot. I don’t remember the cold games being this cold. The wet ones are absolutely soggy. The windy ones are gale force. These aforementioned hours are excruciating, at times alternating from one climate crisis to another. Is this a scene from The Clan of the Cave Bear, my mother’s favorite book series? Is it a snippet from the Mad Max movies – maybe the one where Tina Turner sang on the soundtrack? Nope. It’s just a day on the fields from the standpoint of a grandma, a soccer grandma, that is. Hear me roar.