Jens Voigt, Soccer, and Snow

Another April snowstorm to break the heart. Granted, it has been many years since we have been hit too hard in April, and granted as well, we are in a wickedly bad drought. . .but still, the call of racing and group rides, family rides and camping rides, and most of all the velodrome is so strong now this storm is cruel indeed. The planned team training camp in Red Wing looks a little more challenging than many of us had planned for, particularly the transportation and ride down aspects. All this, and a boy and a girl so set on sun they were very gloomy indeed the last two days.

Cabin fever had dulled the delights of our usual indoor saviors, books and games, because there were bodies wanting movement and minds wanting green. Together, though, we resurrected a dream that predated both children and falls in line with those simmering, summery thoughts: behold, out new Subbuteo soccer stadium, resplendent in green and aqua hopes.

Though not the football palaces that we've seen online, and certainly not holding a candle to the brilliant matches on YouTube between very skilled flickers, our modest little pitch brought squeals of delight, excited competition, and even some warmth to the air as we learned (Oliver, Eleanor, and Heather for the first time, me for a half-remembered second time) the delicate flicks and dramatic errors of the beautiful game, writ small. Perhaps more than the playing and the well bent shot, the building and finally beholding a place for the teams and goals and pitch to be used mattered most. For too long, before Eleanor arrived, they all had waited, QPR and Holland, France and Sheffield Wednesday, if the gradually more dusty back shelf for when we had more room and time. When will we have such room and time. if not now?

Our collection is modest, but our cheer great - and even if consigned forever to the bench as a molded substitute awaiting an 85th minute appearance that never comes, it is awfully good to see each figure out on the green.

One last detail remained, though - one cannot build such a pitch and not have a proper name for it and be true to the game's traditions! Especially now, in the tradition bound height of cycling's Spring Classics season, we wanted to echo something "right." We tried out a few, almost went with Memorial Field, but only through a happy accident and the quirky, rotten weather did we find our way. Coming in from school and clearing the snow from his hat, Oliver looked up to the sky and yelled "Shut up, Snow!" And there it was: our new creation could only be named after that stalwart rider and inspiration for finishing many a hill on our family rides, Jens Voigt.

So today, when school is done and I have packed my bags and checked my bike for the training  weekend that should be, we will gather around and play in laughter at the perfect venue that is, for us:
Jens Voigt Stadium. Now, if you would, shut up, snow!