With my hand shoulder width apart on the crossbar of the soccer goal I pull myself up and tell my chain is above the bar and then let myself slowly back down. On the way up, there is a brief moment of shade from the sun as my eyes are parallel with the bar. The oak tree to the left of the goal cast a shadow three times a tight across the field small soccer fields are painted out with white lines in the grass the yellow blue orange and red corner flags blow languidly in the barely perceptible win father off players practice on the baseball diamond. One player runs out into the outfield wearing a black cap and a red shirt picked up the ball turns and throws it back to the infield.