Soccer Mom

When my 11yo first began playing soccer at the age of 4, every time he scored a goal, which was often because he was faster than most kids on the team at that time, he would turn and look at us, to make sure we saw it and were cheering appropriately. To be honest, when 4 year olds play soccer, it’s all about who is the fastest one…because if you are the fastest one, you can usually break out of the school of fish roaming about the field and score…simply because no one can catch you.  And they don’t have goalies.

Fast-forward a few years. My 11yo typically only looks at me from the field with utter disgust, and if I’m lucky he throws in an eye-roll to break up the monotony. It’s because I am perhaps coaching him from the sidelines. He claims that I am yelling, but there truly is a difference. I don’t say things like, “Kick the ball!” or “Shoot!” That would be so ridiculous…so obvious. Ok, so I’m sometimes the queen of obvious and maybe I do, on occasion, say stupid things like that. But I am definitely not the only one (you parents and grandparents know who you are).

I simply encourage him with reminders that there are strikers whom he could get off-sides if he would, in fact, pull up as he was possibly instructed to do. I mean, let’s face it: the actual paid coaches can’t see EVERYTHING. It is fortunate for the team that I am there. And I don’t even demand payment. What a bargain I must be.

One of the “problems” with my yelling, I mean coaching, is the embarrassment factor for the 11yo. I’m kind of over that though, to be honest.  In public I give him loud, smoochy kisses on his forehead and embrace him in bear hugs that pick him up off the floor…although I suspect my days on the “picking him up” are numbered, as he is steadily gaining on me and his height will surpass me sooner than I would like to admit. He thinks he can pick me up, but I am just really good at getting up on my tip-toes to make it seem as though he’s picking me up; he may be wise to me, but either way, we are still both playing the game.  Upon consideration, I suppose, given my svelte and willowy figure, he could pick me up if only I would let him try.

The other embarrassing factor to my coaching prowess is that, perhaps, should the coach fail to recognize my true benefit, I may be kicked out of a game, and the 11yo would be removed for the next couple games as well. I can see how that would be awkward and just a smidge embarrassing.

So to remedy my penchant for yelling…corrective yelling… I keep a bag of Tootsie Pops with me at the games. It’s more difficult to coach when you have a Tootsie Pop in your mouth.  I will say that it does get a little crazy when I’m on my sugar high at tournaments and I’m watching (when the 9yo plays too) 4 games/day.  I started out eating one sucker per half, but that seemed to be a little much. Although I’m certain that my dentist would not mind having an increase in my business, 8 suckers a day during a tournament was more than any one person should probably eat.

As we embark on another soccer season (this time with only the 11yo playing soccer…I am heart-broken that the 9yo chose football this fall…a future blog will cover this, I am sure), I asked the 11yo if he thought I could keep my mouth shut on the sidelines this season. To my surprise and delight, he said, “Yes, I really think you can.”

Wow…how’s that for an affirming answer? Did not see that one coming at all. Awesome. One less thing I’ll have to remember to buy and then to remember to pack for the games.

My revelry was momentary, as the 9yo immediately piped up and said, “Yeah but dad…he still needs to work on it. He has some trouble with the yelling and probably needs some suckers.”

Therefore I will still go into this season with a bag of suckers in hand.