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J. Reed Anderson

Rapinoe and Morgan have promised to keep fighting the battle. The courts aren't the place, and dad's regularly--overloaded with work demands--do find time to take both male and female children to baseball games, which, with game-time treats ain't cheap. So no sympathy for the "soccer mom" excuse.
I agree, John, that there should be many more female spectators at the women's matches, and that's the battle those two need to fight. Get to every girls league in every city and preach it, sell it, show leadership. No doubt, the soccer mom will still find herself too busy, but dad will put down his tools and take daughter to the pro's games.


The one good thing this virus has retaught my family is the need to move away from time-wasteful games (that includes baseball and its millionaire players that love to strike) and trivial pursuits and back to the realities of being able to feed, clothe, and shelter ourselves no matter what others' deem to be the most important problems supposedly facing whatever their generation's age bracket belongs to. Over the next couple of weeks, I will be teaching my family's young girls, and a couple of boys, how to dig an extra water well, till, plant, and tend to a garden, build a chicken coop, fish, hunt, and how to butcher and preserve their own meat. The funny thing is that not long ago, my sisters-in-law hated anything that had to do with our family's farm. Now, they are actually committed to working on it and financially supporting it thanks to Tyson and the run on toilet paper. And sports is no longer even a thought among all our kids and their diehard sports-loving parents. Seeing empty store shelves and driving by miles-long food lines banished it from their minds for the unforeseeable future.

Astonishingly, this forced togetherness has been rather good for everyone as we learn how much can be accomplished together instead of by ourselves.

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