So, soccer season has begun. C is ramped back up and ready to play. He had a great coach last year and made a lot of friends on his team. So, we signed up for this year and requested the same coach. Everyone is excited.
Enter the bureaucrats.
Okay, so the league is run by an organization that thinks far too highly of its self. Despite requesting the same coach on our application, and actually having a conversation with the person in charge of rostering the league, C was assigned to another team. We talked to the coach from last year, who has received several calls from parents who requested to be back with, none of whom actually are. He promises to take care of it.
Let’s step back here. C had a great team, and they all had lots of fun. They were however, 1-19-1 for the season. That’s right, one win, 19 losses and one tie (which was 0-0, so we count that as a win…).
So, enter the bureaucrats. C cannot be assigned to his old coach, because he has requested another teammate from last year also. He is being accused of trying to stack his team. With kids from his 1-19-1 team from last year. The actual quote was “having too man kids from your last team would give you unfair advantage.” Of what, we have not figured out.
So, anyway. We decide to be the better people and just go with the new coach. The team is, well, iffy. The coaches two kids are firecrackers. They have clearly been trained in the ways of the soccer. C and two other players round out a pretty decent line. Then, there’s the girl who complains that the other team isn’t sharing the ball with her. The boy who just stands still and watches the game go by, and the boy who kicks much like Charlie Brown. Two games into the season and we are 0-2. Both games are shut-outs.
Then, last week happens. We play a team that has a pretty good line (for 5 and 6 year olds…), but our team is having flashes of brilliance. Passing, dribbling, getting the ball to the open player. Wow. K and I are giving each other confused looks. Then, there is drive down the field, the ball is passed to the outside, the ball is passed to the player in front of the goal, who is also my son! Better yet, he wails the ball straight into the goal. The next play, C passes the ball to one of the team’s firecracker and bam! another goal.
Wait, back up. That’s right, my son scored his first goal! His team’s first goal! Icing on the cake? First win to boot!
He came strutting over after the game, big old smile on his face. “Buddy, you played awesome!” I yelled. His humble reply?
“Yeah, I know.”
Okay. Good it doesn’t go to his head.
This weekend was our second win. C didn’t score, but he chocks the win up to the blue hair gel he had the barber put in his hair. (Blue is his team color…)