Fury Soccer

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!

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Soccer Mom

I didn't think I would survive a season of team sports.  I never aspired to be the team mom.  And I never wanted a mini-van.  So two out of three are a reality...the mini-van will have to wait.

After the snack schedule, t-shirt orders, the banner, emails, phone calls, practices, and games.  Toting water jugs, benches, balls, setting up goals, taking down goals, putting up the banner, taking down the banner, and 12 weeks of eating all of our meals out of a crock pot.  You would think I'd be done with it.  But strangely I'm not.

Venom had an awesome season, the girls were talented, the parents were fabulous, and our coach, phenomenal.  So of course with this combination we can't say farewell...we're going into indoor soccer with the same girls, the same parents and the same coach.  It's very exciting.

Still I can't help but ask, "How did I become a soccer mom?"

Participation Trophies

The worst part of the soccer season is here.  Trophies!  Obviously I'm not a fan.  Unless my kids are part of a winning team, I don't see the point.  There was a choice on Rio's team...t-shirts or trophies.  Our choice lost, by a lot.  I don't know why it surprises me, I predicted this from the day we signed up for soccer.  The story is pretty much the same but in different variation. 

"My son is expecting one."

"My son doesn't have a trophy yet and he wants one."

"It just makes me feel good when I see him get a trophy."

"They're young, what does it really matter?"

"It makes the kids happy."

"The boys worked so hard, they deserve them."

Traditionally trophies are a symbol of winning.  So this is what I'm hearing; expecting, wanting, deserving and having are winning attitudes.  What are we rewarding?  I don't think parents are doing their children any favors.

Rio's coach called to ask if they should order Rio a trophy.  Now I'm in a terrible position.  I would love to tell him NO.  Rio doesn't even want one, he wants a t-shirt.  However if I did that, then it's separating Rio from the team, and after all isn't that the point of team sports?  To be a team, not an individual. 

If I say, "Ya, go ahead he can have a trophy." 

Does that make me a hypocrite?  I should practice what I preach.  

Rio says, "I'm just gonna throw it away." 

What a waste of money.  And worst of all, I feel like it's taking away from him winning his first trophy.  If he's handed trophies year after year for participation it will be no big deal.  How sad.

On a lighter note;  Amaya is on a winning team and we're doing medals.  Rio is excited for his sister.