Other articles by Bonnie Henry:

Opinion by Bonnie Henry : Colorful critters Opinion by Bonnie Henry : She just turned away for a second Opinion by Bonnie Henry : Caring man? Yes, in deed Opinion by Bonnie Henry : Thanksgiving redux, as we recall challenge of 1932 Opinion by Bonnie Henry : WWII shrine at UA Opinion by Bonnie Henry : Reap what ye sew Opinion by Bonnie Henry : Stand up and cheer, all you brunettes Opinion by Bonnie Henry : The Steinfeld story Opinion by Bonnie Henry : Grandpa was a doughboy Opinion by Bonnie Henry : Nation's economic mess makes for grim fairy tales

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And so what will you do when this is no longer enough?

After the race track is plowed under, the grandstand demolished, and the grounds turned into an 18-field soccer tournament site, what will you do with the kids and the balls that keep coming and coming and coming?

Where will they play when they've run out of room? Again.

Say, I hear there's plenty of land around Mission San Xavier del Bac? Who needs that old church, anyway? Soccer, anyone?

Yes, of course I exaggerate. But only up to a point.

For years now, we've heard the arguments, pro and con, about closing the historic Rillito Park Race Track.

Pima County, which owns the 88-acre site, doesn't want to spend the millions it would take to repair or replace the track's 46-year-old grandstand.

Horse-track enthusiasts want racing to continue here and are willing to share it with the soccer teams already using part of the property.

Meanwhile, soccer parents and officials are clamoring for more year-round soccer fields, preferably close to home.

They may get it. History and horse-racing buffs can whine all they want, but in the end it always comes down to the moola. Pima County, at least in this case, would rather spend money on kids than on history.

And who can argue with that, many would ask. Our parks and playing fields are so overloaded now that kids in different clubs are literally running into each other on the fields, and county officials worry about beaten-down turf.

But the question I have is, will we ever have enough parks, enough fields to satisfy what, to me, appears to be an insatiable need to kick a ball around, day into night, night after night?

Before you tar and feather me as — horrors! — "mean spirited," know this: I, too, was a soccer mom, though it was hardly a career.

When my son was around 11 or so, a new soccer league started up in our part of town.

Most of the kids and parents already knew each other as veterans of the Little League circuit, which played spring ball, April through June.

Soccer was new to most of us. But what the heck, it sounded like fun. And it gave the kids something to do on winter Saturday mornings.

Somehow, I became team soccer mom. I remember making a team pennant of some sort and cutting up oranges for the kids to suck on during the games.

My son never took to the sport so we lasted only one season, at least as a family. That spring, he happily went back to another season of Little League.

Note the word, "season," implying a beginning and an end, allowing time off for family vacations, making forts in the desert, riding bikes, and all the other things kids used to do before their parents became full-time recreation advisers.

Now, a child can be shuffled to some organized recreational activity every day of the year but Christmas. No wonder there's no room left at the park.

I also worry what all that nighttime lighting is doing to our astronomy programs. But mostly I bemoan the fact that yet another slice of our Western heritage could fall victim to some pressing need of the moment.

C'mon, people. Tucson is the birthplace of American quarter-horse racing — something thousands still honor every year.

The roar of the crowd as the horses thunder down the straightaway could soon be lost forever.

Maybe we should think about that — before we kick it all away.