My youngest son started playing for a local, recreational soccer league when he was in Kindergarten. He's ending 4th grade this year. He has been a winner (undefeated season - yay Grasshoppers!) and a loser. He's played with a ruptured appendix (DOCTOR APPROVED - and I have proof!) 2 seasons a year since Spring of 2013. That's a lot of soccer! He learned so much and gave his best every time.
2 years ago, we got a call from his coach and that was pretty much the only contact we had with her. She either didn't show up for practice, didn't tell us where practice was, or came for the last 10 minutes of the session. And parents just stood there watching their kids kick a ball around, waiting. I made some calls because this was unacceptable. The division coordinator told me to step up. So I did. I'm not a soccer laureate and never will be. But, I decided that doing my best was better than nothing at all. 8 little boys were watching.
Those few weeks were so hard! I had no clue what I was doing. I stayed up all night reading rule books, looking up drills, working playbooks. I didn't want to let them down. They were a great set. I know one, in particular, is going to be in the newspapers someday. We lost like crazy though. There was so much. politically speaking, that I didn't know was a thing. Like - other coaches will purposely play more men on the field when they know that your team is short but also better. Or one coach lady that insisted on being an asshole at every opportunity. And for what? She won't be accepting any World Cups. Some refs are rude and on power trips. The only thing they can do for jollies is be mean to a bunch of little kids and unpaid volunteers. I also learned that adults really do ruin everything. Listening to moms belittle their 8 year old boys on the field. It broke my heart.
Somehow, I'd always end up with the short team or the team where another coach accidentally took 2 of my players. I met a lot of boys with enormous hearts. There's one set, my Fall 2016 set, that will forever be my all time favorite set. No offense to any of my other kids. But this set had this electric chemistry. They were HILARIOUS. Practices were a blast. They were kind - to each other, to other opposing teams, and to me. They took all things in stride. One little guy broke his arm and couldn't play the first few games. He never missed a practice or a game - even in the rain. He still supported his team.
After 4 seasons - this last group broke me. The kids are awesome. They aren't the problem. The first game, a woman didn't know she was sitting next to my husband and started gossiping about me and my parents' business. My parents have been dead for 16 years. I worked in their store when my dad was diagnosed with cancer. I left my printing career to help them. And 18 years later some parent is talking shit about it at the soccer field next to my husband and kids. The next game - a dad started saying awful shit to my kid during a game. Did I mention that these parents are parents for MY team? They didn't realize that I was/am friends with everyone they were sitting around because I have coached many of their kids. I asked the dad, and anyone else who wanted to shit talk on the sidelines, to step up. Show up to a practice. Help me coach. Not a single one bit.
But this week was the final straw. Another dad was yelling during a game. He was yelling so loudly that he got into it with another parent from the other team. Parents from our own team were upset with it. What's worse is that the boys on the field stopped looking at/listening for me because he is so much louder. Thanks dude. Thanks for not stepping up when I needed help and only running your mouth when it was show time. The Board asked him to stop. I asked him to stop. He refuses to listen. His inability to control his mouth is more important. He is ruining a game for boys under 12. Including mine. I'm not just a coach - I'm the mom to one of these kids. Young men need role models - not more yelling. One of these guys is a teacher at a special school. Not for kids with special needs. Extra smart kids. Not Xavier School for Gifted Youngsters. When I mentioned that I work in a foster care agency, he assured me that none of our "riff raff" would qualify to go to his school as they have an application process that weeds out kids like ours.
I have 2 jobs. I work for a foster care agency where I put in as much of my brain as I can to help improve lives of kids I'll never meet. I try to do a small part to help the office run smoothly. I'm a small cog in a beautiful machine. As an abuse survivor, I do have an understanding of what they have gone through. My second job, as a paralegal, is something I picked up again to help an old friend. Honestly, I do not *need* to work. I'm fortunate to not be struggling anymore. But, my friend needed me and I get to work from home for him. So, I don't miss out on time with my kids. I have a business that is finally flourishing! Business is at a nice, steady pace and I'm doing what I love. I volunteer in my daughter's class. I help her teacher with whatever she needs. I helped at lunch. I help with parties. I help wherever my hands will be useful. I volunteer at The Middle Child's school. I get to listen to history projects and speeches. His teachers are phenomenal. Recently, I became affiliated with an organization that dresses up as super heroes for charity events. I get to be Wonder Woman! Yesterday, I attended an event in honor of cancer victims and survivors - some were not even 3 years old yet. So, yes, I did the Chicken Dance as Wonder Woman for charity. I still teach the world about my hometown via a local cemetery that homes some pretty big names in innovation. Not only that but I am actually a mom to 5 really great kids.
I come from a long line of volunteers. Their obituaries read like novels. Their work impacted hundreds of thousands. I want so much to take the life I was given and do something meaningful with it. I wanted to show my kids that "I can't" isn't a thing. I took hours out of my week, away from my own children, to coach 10 more boys. And, my thanks is some guy who can't shut up. We are always going to be met with opposition. That's not a reason to give up. But sometimes it is a reminder that you can do good somewhere else. So, I'm packing up the cleats, the nets, the cones, and my megaphone. The Youngest Boy is boxing up his jersey collection and his shin guards after our final game today. We're off to our next adventures.
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