I'm Lindsay Ferrier, a Nashville writer with a passion for family travel, exploring Tennessee, and raising kids without losing my mind in the process. This is where I share my discoveries, along with occasional deep thoughts, pop culture tangents and a sprinkling of snark. Want to get in touch? Use the CONTACT form at the top of the page.
October 25, 2006
>Remember when I wrote last week about Hubs’s loud and boisterous bell-ringing at our girls’ soccer games? Two days later, our opponents’ parents struck back! The story is in this week’s Nashville Scene. Read the full text of the column below….
Hell’s Bell
In my five years as a soccer stepmom, extensive observation has allowed me to divide the players’ parents into some fairly disturbing categories.
There are the sideline screamers, hard-faced men (and occasionally, women) who pace the sidelines yelling advice at the players and epithets at the referees.
There are the bleacher bitches, moms who cluster together and gossip about their neighbors and mutual friends, stopping every so often to look vaguely at the field and say, “Oh, is my Muffy back out there again? What number is she, anyway?”
There’s the bland brigade, parents who politely clap after every play and call out meticulously positive shows of support, like, “Good hustle, Mary Jane!” and “It’s just a little blood, Haley, you’ll be fine!”
And then there’s the bell ringer. The man who brings a gigantic hand bell to every game and rings it after goals until ears bleed and small children sob for mercy. That man happens to be my husband.
To say he’s obsessed with our girls’ soccer games is an understatement. I don’t think Hubs has missed a single game and the damage to my eardrums tells me he’s definitely never forgotten the bell. I can appreciate the man’s fanaticism for such a noble cause, but I don’t always appreciate what comes with it, like the phrase, Owls Leave Carcasses! scrawled in paint on the back window of my car last week.
“Why did you do that, Hubs?” I complained. “It’s disgusting and it doesn’t make sense. Do you realize how many stares I’ve gotten on the road?”
“The Bellevue Owls will know what it means, and that’s all that matters!” Hubs insisted. “Show some school spirit.”
For the girls’ sake, I put up with the window graffiti and the ear splitting bell. That’s more than I can say for the opposing teams’ parents.
“Gah dog! That bell has gotta go!” yelled an angry woman the other day after Hubs engaged in some particularly vehement bell ringing. “It’s freakin’ annoying!”
Other parents have tried more circuitous routes.
“I’m Sasha’s father,” an opposing player’s dad said once, shaking Hubs’s hand. “Our daughters used to play rec soccer together.”
“Oh hey, I remember you,” Hubs smiled.
“You must stop ringing that bell,” the father continued.
“Yeah, it’s pretty loud, isn’t it?” Hubs chuckled.
But the dad wasn’t laughing. “You. Must. Stop. Ringing. That. Bell.” As he stalked off, Hubs gave his bell a few retaliatory shakes in his direction.
After all, Hubs reasons, at least some of these whiners are the same people who put on football jerseys and scream their heads off in living rooms and stadiums across the state. And if it’s socially acceptable to show fanatical devotion to a group of jocks that will never know of their existence, why not show that same passion for their own kids’ teams?
But while he makes a great case for himself, it doesn’t make the evil stares from the stands any easier to bear. Particularly when we play our archrivals, Martin Luther King Magnet School.
Their team is excellent, so it was a miracle when we beat them in the first round of the playoffs last week. I like to think the bell had something to do with the win. Hubs rang it so hard that the resulting booms convinced me he’d broken the sound barrier at least twice.
Unfortunately, we had to play MLK again this week to make it to the finals. When we arrived at the field on game day, Hubs grinned wickedly at the rows of parents in the stands and pulled his bell from a gym bag. But in a surprise move, the parents on the away side reached into their own pockets and pulled out… kazoos.
Readers, I have a word of advice. Never play a kazoo when you’re pissed off. The result sounds very much like a helium addict puking his guts out. As the air filled with that strange and awful sound, Hubs began ringing his bell in a desperate attempt to cleanse the air. He couldn’t have known that the kazooists had even more up their Lands’ End sleeves.
With a mixture of fear and pride, an MLK dad brandished an air horn in front of the mob and sounded it in short, sheepish bursts. Hubs scowled at this aural amateur and rang harder.
Strangely, as pathetic as the air horn-conducted kazoo band sounded, the wretched noise seemed to spur the MLK players on as the game got underway. The girls began whooping and screeching and their pursed lips were replaced by wide grins. They bounded onto the field with gusto.
“Don’t think we’re playing these kazoos because it’s the playoffs,” one woman told a Bellevue parent as the whistle blew. “We’re doing it because of that danged bell.”
Intentions aside, the kazoo band’s effect on the MLK girls was phenomenal. They played like demons and beat us, 3-0.
But even as our Bellevue Owls sobbed and clutched each other for support after the game had ended, Hubs and I couldn’t help but flash each other a quick thumbs up. Because we totally kicked ass in the noise department.
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>Your people are so weird Lindsay. Us Canadians are the ones in lawn chairs, yelling out the occassional, “Go Jimmy!” and clapping politely.What’s next for hubby? Will he bring an elephant? I can’t wait to hear!Karenxo
>I’m from Arkansas (right next to Tennessee, for those of you who might not know), and I can TELL you what’s next. AIR HORNS. Trust me. Air horns.
>MUST. HAVE. MORE. COW BELL!
>Loved the article. And I love Hubs devotion and support of his daughters. Any girl should be so lucky! You’ve got yourself a keeper.
>That is to funny!I can just envision the whole thing. Just wondering did everyone get headaches? I went to a college football game where everyone yelled boomer sooner over and over and I got a huge migrain! Ha!!! Owls leave carcasses youve got yourself a pretty funny guy 🙂
>That is the most hysterical thing I have ever read – I can totally picture it. I bet it was the loudest soccer game in Bellevue history.Love you blog — keep it coming.
>So it took a whole bleacher set full of parents playing kazoos to drown out one man’s bell? I say next time you play MLK, bring more bells and pass them out. Air horn Schmair horn.
>Very funny piece. (I must say I hope there are no autistic kids attending. My daughter would have a nervous breakdown on the spot from all the noise)!Beautiful that your hubby is so into his girls!
>are we ever going to hear how it ended with the MOMS club? did you go to the mental health discussion? i can’t stand the suspense!hi, i’m kim, this is me delurking.
>Brings back memories of parents bringing gallon jugs filled with pennies or rocks and shaking them during the game. Where is the advil?
>See, that other team, they know how to handle things. Can’t beat em, join em, only louder.Bells and kazoo’s are much better than side-line screamers any day.
>rizzo, it is obnoxious. It is totally obnoxious. But the girls love it, their parents seem to love it, and I think it’s just harmless fun. And if you could see Hubs watching the game, you’d know he’s far more interested in the girls than anything. He’s been coaching six of the 11 school team starters on his rec team for the past 12 soccer seasons and his rec team has only lost one game in the last 3 or 4 seasons of play, so he knows what he’s doing.And he does take the courtesy of standing far down the field, away from the bleachers, so no one’s eardrums are harmed except mine!As for the GH Moms Club, complexlittleone, sadly, the VP of membership never contacted me about upcoming events. So it looks like no mental health seminar or pumpkin patch for me. ;(
>This is the stuff that breeds 100 year traditions and legacies. Someday, 100 years from now, the team will no longer be called the “Owls”, they’ll be called the “Ringers”. A huge bell in the stadium will ring with every goal, loudly and proudly. A student will then ask one day where the team got their name and why the bell is so important. Someone will start telling the story of the infamous “bell ringer” … “Well, back in 2006, a fanatic father came to every game his girls played in and proudly rang a bell with every great play and goal. One time, a rival team tried to out-do this supportive father and it only spurred on our team’s parents even more. Soon, they were ALL bringing bells to the games. After a few years of this, the teams name was changed to the “Ringers” and a new bell was put in the field to ring in pride…. and that is how the “Ringer” came to be….”I can see it all happening! I loved this article. Great story!