You know that feeling when you do something and you quickly realize it's going to be your first – and last – time doing that? That's how Ol’ Dutch is feeling at this very moment. Today I made two trips at once. My first, and my last.  

As most of you know we seem to spend an inordinate amount of time either going to or coming from or being at soccer games for Grand #2. And just when I thought it could not get worse, it did.  

This week, Dallas is hosting an international soccer tournament and teams from all across the globe are going to be competing against one another. Some 9,000 players under 19 years of age came to this city to play and of course Miss Trixie is not going to miss out on any fun.  

I should have known better. Fourteen years ago, when I first met her gorgeous self, she told me, “When the fun is gone, so am I.” Fourteen years later, she’s still here—so either I’m more fun than a barrel of monkeys, or she’s forgotten where the door is. 

Back to my story, Sunday was the opening ceremony at the Cotton Bowl Stadium. Ol’ Dutch, being a practical man, didn’t see the point of driving across Dallas just to watch 9,000 kids walk in circles like it was the Olympics. Which it is not. 

Eventually, Miss Trixie sweetened the deal. We could ride with my son Bubs and his crew—saving the $20 parking fee and sparing me Dallas traffic. Against my better judgment, I agreed.  

Now, I had asked — repeatedly — what this little outing was going to cost. Every single time, I was told, “Nothing.” Turns out “nothing” somehow became $25 a head at the door. Let’s just say this tight-fisted old Scotsman was not amused. 

We did get to see Grand #2 march in with her team, and she was grinning like she’d just won the lottery. That was worth something…although I’m not entirely convinced it was worth fifty bucks. 

Then to our surprise a soccer game broke out between some Brazilian and Britisher guys and we got to watch them go back and forth and forth and back over and over and over again. 

At some point they did play the national anthem for England and the crowd of Americans all stood for it just like they were still in the original 13 colonies under British rule. All I know is we fought those old Redcoats several times and rescued them twice in World Wars so Ol’ Dutch is just not too keen on “God saving the King.” So I just sat that one out.   

I could tell Miss Trixie was getting hungry so I gave her all my remaining cash and sent her for some food. She came back with a $10 burrito looking thing and seemed happy as a Lark with her purchase and she chowed down like a sled dog on the Iditarod race to Nome Alaska.  

I don't know how happy she will be in the morning, however, when that burrito comes to pay its last respects. If you know anything about stadium food it will come back like a raging hurricane and leave her weak and anemic to boot. Even Ol’ Dutch took a bite as I have felt a little constipated of late and figure one bite will probably be enough Cotton Bowl food to clean my clock.  

It appears that little Grand #2 will be playing soccer against these foreign invaders all over the Metroplex this week. And I suppose Ol’ Dutch will have to find his way over the river and through the woods to those games.  

And we will join the other parents and grandparents dreaming that their one child is the very best player there while doling out cash by the bucketfuls to attend each and every event.  

God save the king? God save Ol’ Dutch. 

Kevin Kirkpatrick spends his days fishing, hunting, ATVing, hiking or making people laugh. His email is Kevin@TroutRepublic.com. Additional news can be found at www.troutrepublic.com or on Twitter at TroutRepublic.