Soccer issues.

On Monday Tyler and I went to go watch my little brother, who is not so little anymore play soccer... He's 14, is taller than I am and thinks he's a grown up.  How does that happen? Anyways, he told us his game started at 5pm, but unfortunately for us his game only started at 7. By the time the girls team had finished I was already so tired of sitting on those uncomfortable bleachers and  getting super hungry. I sucked it all up and decided to be supportive a little longer and finally watch him play. The problem was that before half time the other team was already winning 3:1, but unfairly. I know soccer. Growing up Brazilian you have no choice but to follow soccer at home. There's no escaping soccer in our culture. So I know when ref's are suppose to call penalty kicks, when the team is off-side's, what a yellow or red card means, and when a foul should be called. So when the other team scored not only one but two of their goals off-side's my nerves started kicking in. We were sitting on the stands with the "Home" team and I knew that even the parents of the winning team knew that they were wrong. So of course during half time I told Tyler I was going to go complain to the referee. For those of you who know my husband, you know he is such a sweetie, and he will NOT complain for anything.  If we go to a restaurant and his order is wrong he just politely shrugs his shoulder and says "hmm that's fine!" I however, am the first to be like "Excuse me Ms. something doesn't seem right." Maybe I'm not so sweet, I don't know!! We were planning on leaving during half time anyways since we had been there since 5:30 and it was now 8:30 & my stomach was making funny noises. I quickly marched across the field and spoke to the girl ref who was supposed to be calling the off-side's. I told her as nicely as I could that I thought it was really close, and that maybe a mistake had been made. I wish I had a picture of Tyler's face while I was talking to her. I don't think he believed that I was actually gonna do it. Well, never underestimate me! She was so nice, and said that she didn't call it but she knew that it really was close and that she would keep a closer eye during the second half. I felt so relieved that it was that simple. This may come as a shock to my husband, but I really don't like confrontation, but I will complain/ stand up for what I believe if I have to, No matter how embarrassing it may be. So I was so happy that there was no yelling, no rudeness between our conversation we simply stated what we observed and she said she would keep a more careful look out.Walking out of the field I felt so proud of my self for defending my brothers team. I know it is technically the coach's job, but since he didn't step up to the plate someone had too. I deserved ice cream for what I did, so we went to Dairy Queen and we each got a blizzard. It made me sick though, maybe all the caramel, or the fact that I had not eaten and was now trying to eat junk food.Whatever the reason my stomach was definitely not happy. It was only later that night that my mom called me and said that my brother lost 7:1. Poor guy. I wish I had been there the whole time to cheer him on, and keep a closer eye on those referees. He's such a sore loser though that maybe this will teach him to be more humble, and teach me that no matter how much you complain, and try to protect those you love you can never quite keep them 100% from getting hurt.