It wouldn't be soccer season without at least one post from me on the topic. The Fall 2016 season is underway and has a whole new dynamic this time for my family.
My son was excited to have the same coach he had a couple of years ago, you may recall Mr. Orange Slices. Also, he was thrilled to have, for the first time, his dad as assistant coach - you know, someone I know IN-TI-MATE-LY. What a brave soul. In fact, when he agreed to assist, I told him to expect text messages from me from the sidelines during the games. He playfully reminded me, "Remember, I am only the ASSISTANT." For the duration of this post, I will refer to him professionally as the assistant coach.
Since I unfortunately missed the season opener over the weekend, tonight was my first game in attendance. What could possibly go wrong? After all, these early games don't really mean anything and, in all honesty, the playoffs are where all the really intense action occurs. So most of the game, I scoped out the other parents identifying the cheerleaders, the hot heads, and the absent. Basically, I sat with my parents and chatted; cheering a little here and there but nothing crazy.
My son was having an amazing game with umpteen shots on goal and two assists. He is one of the strongest offensive players and probably the best defenseman on his team. It was a close game, and going into the final quarter (Yes, they have four quarters, not two halves, in this recreational league, so please no hate mail.) the game was tied. Ah, who cares. It was a good game and I enjoyed being out on the fields again.
Then it happened. From across the field I see my son put the goalie pinny on. OH, NO, NO NO! Can't I have one season where my son doesn't have to play goalie? Whose decision was this? Even Nana and Grandpa were baffled by this terrible coaching decision (Oh, yes, I actually said that while the words, "Remember I am only the assistant," rang in my ears.) They need my son on the field if we are to have any chance of winning this game. Should I text the assistant coach right there and bitch - I happen to have his number on speed dial - or should I save my "comments" for afterwards?
In the first two minutes of the fourth quarter, our defensive line completely falls apart and allows the other team's top player right through, unguarded. He shoots and GOALLLL!!! Son of a fried pickle!! Unfortunately, 3-2 was the final score. Back at the car, my son, who is normally very gracious in defeat, had a few "tips" for his new assistant coach. As for me, all I said, was "Understand this is grounds for a blog post."
The assistant coach laughed, and said, "As soon as they scored that goal, I figured as much."
This could be a very long season.
And the Hat Trick for Worst Soccer Mom Goes to.....
Don't Fix it, Deal With it!
A Close Call for Epic Mom Failure
Soccer Mom Failure!
Another Youth Sports Rant
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