Harmony Huskies 6, Upper Kennebec Valley Cavaliers 0. My rookie fifth-grade son scored his first goal; ran into the middle of the field waving his arms in triumph; and engaged in a comic TV-style moment with his brother's best friend (fullback sweeper, team captain, and a good foot and half taller than my son), who loped up the field in dramatic slow motion to instigate a proud high-five. Only the swelling noble background music was missing.

Hero-wonder. The sensation is so sad and so sweet and reminds me of Tennyson, who, for all his muddy Victorianism, understood its melancholy loveliness. Here's a bit from his late poem "Merlin and the Gleam." The notion is sentimental to be sure, but what's wrong with a touch of sentiment on a waning autumn afternoon, the sun radiating low over a green field, lighting up scrubby knees and babies on blankets and forgotten bicycles and grandmothers in lawn chairs and singing little sisters and high school kids smacking each other with empty Coke bottles and log trucks roaring by and a blue jay shooting toward the river and my little son and his big friend saluting the grave beauty of a moment of glory?

Not of the sunlight,

Not of the moonlight,

Not of the starlight!

O young Mariner,

Down to the haven,

Call your companions,

Launch your vessel

And crowd your canvas,

And, ere it vanishes

Over the margin,

After it, follow it,

Follow the Gleam.