It’s half time at the under- six soccer.
The Rockets are up 2 – 1. It’s been a difficult first half.
Will Sheridan tripped over Marcus Lee’s boot and had a serious knee graze requiring two Wiggles band-aids.
Josh Andrews scored his first goal, much to the thrill of his watching parents, grandparents and uncles and aunts, but he was so excited no one had the heart to tell him it was an own goal. At one stage each team even had all their players on the field for at least four minutes (before there were tears, a needed toilet break and one child who was just too tired to do this any more mummy.)
Off the Rockets come and instead of huddling together over a traditional Tupperware container of cut-up orange quarters instead they wander over to their own parents (or entourage) for a bag of chips, a jelly snake or a quick munch on an apple before they hear the whistle blow for the second half.
No oranges you see because sadly oranges at half time are no more.
Can you believe it? The tradition, the institution that is the half time orange gone. Wiped from our children’s childhoods.
I'm trying very hard not to be outraged here because when I put it in perspective, really it is well, just an orange, a mere fruit but truthfully it kind of leaves me in despair.
Both my sons play junior sport in two separate teams – an under-7 team and an under-9 team and both teams, unrelated, have cut the orange.