Monday, August 22, 2011
Soccer has once again taken over our lives. How did this happen this time you might ask? I have only myself to blame.
"Hello," my husband answered his cell phone. Followed by a period of silence.
"No...um...no...I would love to...but um, I just don't have the time this year," he tried to come up with a believable excuse. "I could be an assistant coach though," he offered the next best thing.
"You can't talk on the cell phone!" I snapped my fingers. "You're driving! Here give me your phone, I'll talk to them for you."
"Hold on, I'm driving...here talk to my wife," he said as I pried the phone from his ear.
The Coaches Coordinator informed me that the U-9 Boys division was short 4 coaches this season. So if my husband didn't coach, who knows what kind of a team Rio would be placed on.
I couldn't help myself. "Okay he'll do it," I volunteered him.
The Coaches Coordinator was pleased. We worked out a few minor details and I hung up the phone.
"Really Babe?" my husband teased.
"Don't pretend like you don't want to," I poked him in his side. "And, hey...there's at least four other teams in our same position," I said. "It evens the playing field."
"If I'm coaching, you're managing," he told me. "Don't pretend like you don't want to."
So we agreed, and pledged our full commitment to our new team.
Here's to eating out of a Crockpot for the next 12 weeks. Go Fury!