The Season, Vol. 1

There are a few things that once you start, it's nearly impossible to stop: Cool Ranch Doritos, Camel Lights, and coaching youth soccer.  Now, every fall, whenever the PAL soccer organizer calls me, he just says, "You're coaching again, right?"

Both teams tackled me on my birthday.
I've always wondered how many 10-year olds it would take
to beat me up.  The answer is fewer than I hoped.

This year, like the previous, there were just two teams in the older age bracket.  We had the Killer Llamas and the Killer Llama Killers.  I coached the latter.  My buddy, Arnoud, coached the former.  Despite is European roots, like me, he's a former rugby player, not a soccer player, and soccer "rules" were often improvised.  Whenever Regina watched our matches she had to bite her tongue as Arnoud and I often would look at each other after an infraction and just shrug.  Our league is the XFL of soccer.  It's a faster and more aggressive game because we play on a field that's A) maybe 40 yards long and 50 yards wide, and B) there's a noticeable uphill slope (or downhill, depending on who picks) to the pitch.  If you're playing downhill, it's pretty easy for a goalie with a good toe to score with a simple clearing kick.  Plus, the field got shorter each time the grass got mowed because whoever ran the lawnmower pushed the goals in and no one bothered to reset them.

The Killer Llamas weren't too thrilled that we mocked their name and came out and beat us soundly in the first 3 games.  It's only a 6-week season, and I felt the team slipping away.  I wish I could say I stepped up my coaching skills by Googling "How to win at soccer," but in reality, I just upped my candy bar bribes.  We won the next 3 to finish the season 3-3.  The coolest part was watching the players transform into decent little soccer players.  The boy who always kept his hands in his pockets turned out to be a pretty good goalie; the girl who insisted on only playing defender turned into an awesome midfielder, and the boy who wouldn't go near the ball turned into a thunder foot who could launch it a mile.  The best, for me, was watching Dylan.  This season, things really clicked for her.  She turned into a scoring machine and my promise from 5 years ago of a candy bar for every goal she scored really bit me in the butt.  I'm sure her dentist won't be thrilled either.  Best of all, she plays soccer like a rugger.  Boys complained when she knocked them down.  I just shrugged.

The only downside to coaching is I couldn't watch Grady play.  His team played on the field next to ours so I could peek over and catch a little of the action.  And, aside from bouncing a soccer ball off his braces once, he had a blast.

So, the cleats and shinguards are back in the closet, mildewing away, and Tuesdays and Thursdays just don't feel the same without dashing to town and trying to squeeze late dinners in after homework.  But we'll figure out something to do with our free time.  I hear basketball is starting up soon.