Maybe it was the Saturday when we had three soccer games, two baseball games and a soccer tryout. Or maybe it was the next Saturday when we had six soccer games--in one single morning! At some point during one of those Saturdays, my younger son Sam looked right at me and said, "Next fall, I want to play lacrosse and hockey as well as soccer."

Hoo boy.

Spring is always the busiest sports season. Soccer starts in March, and then baseball kicks off at the beginning of May. Usually, there is a week or two of overlap. But for three straight weeks in the middle of April, rain cancelled soccer. And so soccer makeups bled into baseball. In addition, our older son Max played on two soccer teams, the second of which just finished its season this weekend. Baseball, of course, rolls through the end of June.

I'm not going into the rationale for Max playing on two soccer teams, except to say that we won't be doing that again. It's hard enough dealing with two kids playing one sport per weekend. Two kids and five teams for four striaght Saturdays is pretty much mind-melting.

I like that they play sports. And, despite the chaos of our Saturdays this spring, I had fun. We simply shuttled boys from field to field (I coached Sam's soccer team, so I knew where I would be at 11:15 every Saturday) and hoped for the best. Which, more often than not, is what we got.

Sports are good for kids. They're a lot of fun for those kids who are physically adept and can play with a team. But they can be just as rewarding for the kids who really can't play at all.

A couple of years ago, a kid I'll call Steve joined Max's soccer team. He was seriously overweight and couldn't play for more than two or three minutes without needing to come off the field. He didn't make practices, which meant that his game-day progression was non-existent.

But his mom got him to practice the next spring, and Steve began to be able to play an entire quarter without subbing out. At some point, he started playing during recess at school as well. And then he discovered that his size was useful on the field. After a couple of years practicing and playing soccer, he had lost a fair amount of weight and was a solid contributor on his team. He was one of the happiest players, as well, always thrilled to be out there mixing it up with everyone.

Right now, our boys are among the best players on each of their teams. Once they hit puberty and their Worley athletic genes kick in, things might well get rougher. But by then, they'll have years of playing under their belts and will be able to pick up whatever sport they like as they age out of kids rec leagues.

Some of our neighbors have kids in middle school, and they say they are pretty happy that soon they won't have the hassle of dragging their kids to and from the fields and courts. I don't know if I will share that enthusiasm. Driving around all over creation and then standing around and watching for hours on end can be a bit wearying. But sports are fun, and our boys enjoy getting out and competing. And, like it or not, our world is based on competition. Might as well get some practice in early.

All those are rationales, though, and they simply don't have anything to do with the simple joy of watching your children run around and be happy. And if one of the other parents happens to say something like, "I love watching Max's game. He's an absolute beast on the field," well, that's just gravy.

Jon Worley's game has often been described as "beastly," but he has never been called a "beast."