Lianne Wilkens/Columnist
Published: May 11, 2008

The sun is shining, warm on my face, and the breeze is gentle and steady. There's a final shot, one of our players with an eye on the clock flings a wild Hail Mary which soars up, up and over the opposing team's goal, missing it by a mile. We watch it go and groan at the missed opportunity, but then, "Three! Two! One!" The whistle shrieks and "That's game!"

"Wooohooo!" We applaud wildly on the sidelines, moms and dads and grandparents and siblings, all celebrating the end of the game and our tied score. It's not a win, but really, in this case, a tie is nearly as good.

Everyone expected our middle school lacrosse team to be routed in every game this season. We're the only local public middle school with a lacrosse team, and we have a very short season with very few games, all against private schools. And private schools, with their eye-bugging tuitions and shining facilities, are lacrosse-player factories, proud and certain of their abilities, photos splashed on their Web sites.

So our team has surprised our opponents. We've had two away games, where I drove and drove, parked my paid-off minivan among the luxury sedans, and sat quietly among the crisply pressed private school spectators. We lost the first game by only one goal, to everyone's shock, and, "Where are you from again?" asked the parents at the top of the fourth quarter, when our new team finally clicked, stalling the advances of their experienced team.

The second game was played on manicured fields set between gently rolling hills, a discreet distance from the surrounding estates. We won that game, controlled it from start to finish, to our coach's obvious delight. Again: "You're from what school?" parents asked, after their team failed to rally and our team failed to tire. We told them, making sure to appear casual and relaxed, and they shook their heads: "Lacrosse is everywhere now."

For this third game, we hoped to win again, of course, especially on our home field with, finally, a sizable group of spectators, not just the few moms and dads able to make a midday trek to our opponents' far-flung fields. The other team is, as usual, a precisely drilled corps with fancy matching uniforms, and they don't expect our scrappy players to meet them goal for goal, hit for hit. The tied final score is a point of pride: take that from our underdog team!

The game over, we moms mill around while the team gathers its equipment. We're waiting for our boys and, besides, hearts still pounding, we want to share this bright moment of glory. It means a lot to us all, to the boys of course but also to us moms, who dress, feed, nag, compliment and completely, absolutely live in our sons' successes and failures.

Finally Debbie, Laura, Michele, Jennifer and I stroll away to the parking lot. We smile and laugh as we walk, reliving the game, and we can't help but notice the moms from the other team. "They look unhappy," Debbie whispers, nodding toward the stone-faced parents stalking away. We grin again; oh, yes, it's a beautiful day.

Lianne Wilkens lives with her family in Manassas. She can be reached at .