By Karen Wheeler, Slice of Life 

My boys are both playing lacrosse for the high school this spring, and I must admit I’ve come a long way since I confused the sport with the town in southwestern Wisconsin. “You want to go to a La Crosse game? Oh, you mean a lacrosse game.”

Three years ago I didn’t know a thing about the sport and had a vague image of kids running around with little butterfly nets playing catch with a whiffle ball. “This sounds fun,” I told my son when he first gave me a sheet about the sport, but I felt my spine tingle when – in the fine print – I read that the American Indians, who first originated the sport, had called lacrosse the “little brother of war.”

Karen Wheeler

I’ve since learned that there’s indoor (box) and outdoor (field) lacrosse, and that the name comes from the French settlers’ word for “curved stick.” In field lacrosse, which is what the boys are playing in high school, there are three positions each for attack (offensive players), middies (offense and defense) and defense, plus one goalie (who seems not to mind getting all bruised up). The object of the game is to use the crosse (stick) – which has a head (net) on it - to scoop, catch, carry and pass a hard rubber ball until you or a team member can hurl it into the opponent’s net.

The very first time I watched my youngest son play in a lacrosse game, I immediately recognized why the sport would appeal to a teenage boy. The kids put on chest and arm pads, thick padded gloves, and a helmet, then run around and wallop the other players with a stick. What was there not to like?

As that first game progressed, however, my husband and I were joined by a group of parents who were equally as confused as we were. Dads that normally shouted unsolicited instructions during their children’s games were stupefied into silence. Whoa! Was that hit legal? Hmm. Was that kid supposed to be in the crease? Moms and dads muttered and milled about, resorting to a feeble “Good job!” or “Way to go!” every now and then. We had no clue what was going on, and our boys ran by with big grins on their faces, clearly loving our confusion. 

The only parent that did have a clue was Alan Childs. He was the driving force behind bringing lacrosse into Savage and Burnsville, and also had the utter misfortune to be standing next to me during my first lacrosse game. “Ohmygosh. Did you see that, Alan? That kid just knocked our guy down. What? That’s legal? Ohmygosh. Look at that kid just wailing his stick on our guy’s arms. C’MON REF! CALL…what? That’s legal, too? Man down? Where? Who’s down? I don’t see anyone down. Ha Ha, listen. That coach thinks his players are dogs. ‘Middies, come!’ ‘Attack, come!’ Ha Ha. Next he’ll be saying ‘Down, boy. Sit. Stay.’ Why don’t the goalies wear any extra padding? Ooohhh. That’s gotta hurt. Now why does the other team get the ball? Failure to advance? Sounds like a banking term. What’s a Long Stick Middie, anyway? Hey, the other team threw the ball out of bounds, so why do they get it back again? This game is so confusing, isn’t it, Alan? Alan? Now where’d he go? The game isn’t over yet…”

My boys love lacrosse and take pride in comparing bruises and abrasions after every game. They strategically pound the netting on their lacrosse head in an effort to create a deep pocket so that the ball is less likely to fall out as they run with it. It must, however, drop easily out of the pocket if the referee turns their sticks over. The boys also practice “cradling” the ball, which involves rotating the stick back and forth quickly and smoothly so it will be harder for an opponent to knock the ball out while they are running.

All this stuff about lacrosse might sound strange to you now, just as it did to me three years ago. Just a little reminder, however - when I graduated from high school in the late 70s, we had no clue about this new thing called soccer. 

 (Karen Wheeler is a veterinarian who lives in Burnsville. Her column is one of several opinion and commentary pieces appearing regularly in this newspaper.)