It's pretty common knowledge around here that athletics and I are as compatible as oil and water. We went our separate ways back in junior high just after an ankle-spraining mishap that occurred while I struggled to run around something called a TRACK. So it boggles my mind when Toni gets whacked on the head with a ball or trips and falls to the ground all in 40-degree weather during a soccer match, and then doesn't so much as WHISPER a complaint about it, much less considers giving it up. Watching her in action last weekend made me realize that I can never get a case of amnesia because I would NEVER guess that she was mine.
As I mentioned in my last post, she had a soccer tournament in Durango. Kids and parents from Telluride, Silverton, Boulder, and other beautiful places around the state congregated for a full day of ball-playing/watching and the occasional cocoa drinking. Durango was almost as cold and windy as Ann Coulter. MISERABLE, to be more specific. Toni, on the other hand, would use words like EXCITING and AWESOME when describing the day... as if the terrible weather wasn't even a part of her particular experience. I'm very happy that she enjoyed herself the way that she did. We would not be soccering if it wasn't enjoyable for her.
Which brings me to the subject of crazy parents and children that SO aren't enjoying themselves. Like poor little Mattie. Before I embark on a rant, let me emphasize here that I don't know Mattie. I don't even know what team Mattie was a part of or from what gorgeous town she sprung forth. All I know is that by the end of the day I wanted to take her home with me. OR. Remove her father's voice box and donate it to science. Because there HAD to be something not right about it. You see, it only had but one volume level that can only be described as Sonorous Annoying. PLUS it seemed incapable of saying but a few words: MATTIE!! MATTIE OPEN YOUR EYES!! MATTIE!! MATTIE GET DOWN FIELD!! MATTIE!! MATTIE MOVE, DAMMIT!! MATTIE!!
Maybe it's because I'm a firm believer that parents should be parents and coaches should be coaches, but if I'm going to become one of those people that loses all sensibility and starts to repeat herself at one of these CHILDREN'S soccer games, I promise this is what you will hear me repeating: YAY!!! WOOHOOO!!! YAYYYYYY!!
If things aren't going quite as planned, so help me god, I will offer: NICE TRY!! IT'S OKAY!! YOU ROCK!!!
All right, so maybe this is easy to say coming from someone who's competitive streak only rears it's ugly head when a Scrabble board is laid out on the table. AND who is so soccer ignorant that phrases like PENALTY KICK invoke images of something tortuous. All I know is that it'll be a long time before I forget Mattie. Mattie and the tears she sucked up when she was elbowed in the face. Mattie's eyes nervously darting toward her dad every time she missed her mark or had a ball stolen from beneath her...
On the drive back home, the kids and I evaluated the day. The best part? Jonah thought it was the hot cocoa. I thought it was that moment when the sun came out for five minutes. Toni thought it was when the coach told her he hardly recognized her out there, she was THAT aggressive. The worst part? Jonah thought it was the wind. I thought it was how preoccupied I got with someone else's kid. Toni thought it was when that one girl tripped her for no reason during the last game. The freakiest part? You would have THOUGHT it was those two black rabbits we saw fist-fighting off on the side of the road. In the middle of nowhere. (Are there black rabbits in the wild?? Maybe there's a story to be told about "violent wabbits" after all!) But, alas, we all agreed that Mattie's dad was the freakiest thing of all.
As I mentioned in my last post, she had a soccer tournament in Durango. Kids and parents from Telluride, Silverton, Boulder, and other beautiful places around the state congregated for a full day of ball-playing/watching and the occasional cocoa drinking. Durango was almost as cold and windy as Ann Coulter. MISERABLE, to be more specific. Toni, on the other hand, would use words like EXCITING and AWESOME when describing the day... as if the terrible weather wasn't even a part of her particular experience. I'm very happy that she enjoyed herself the way that she did. We would not be soccering if it wasn't enjoyable for her.
Which brings me to the subject of crazy parents and children that SO aren't enjoying themselves. Like poor little Mattie. Before I embark on a rant, let me emphasize here that I don't know Mattie. I don't even know what team Mattie was a part of or from what gorgeous town she sprung forth. All I know is that by the end of the day I wanted to take her home with me. OR. Remove her father's voice box and donate it to science. Because there HAD to be something not right about it. You see, it only had but one volume level that can only be described as Sonorous Annoying. PLUS it seemed incapable of saying but a few words: MATTIE!! MATTIE OPEN YOUR EYES!! MATTIE!! MATTIE GET DOWN FIELD!! MATTIE!! MATTIE MOVE, DAMMIT!! MATTIE!!
Maybe it's because I'm a firm believer that parents should be parents and coaches should be coaches, but if I'm going to become one of those people that loses all sensibility and starts to repeat herself at one of these CHILDREN'S soccer games, I promise this is what you will hear me repeating: YAY!!! WOOHOOO!!! YAYYYYYY!!
If things aren't going quite as planned, so help me god, I will offer: NICE TRY!! IT'S OKAY!! YOU ROCK!!!
All right, so maybe this is easy to say coming from someone who's competitive streak only rears it's ugly head when a Scrabble board is laid out on the table. AND who is so soccer ignorant that phrases like PENALTY KICK invoke images of something tortuous. All I know is that it'll be a long time before I forget Mattie. Mattie and the tears she sucked up when she was elbowed in the face. Mattie's eyes nervously darting toward her dad every time she missed her mark or had a ball stolen from beneath her...
On the drive back home, the kids and I evaluated the day. The best part? Jonah thought it was the hot cocoa. I thought it was that moment when the sun came out for five minutes. Toni thought it was when the coach told her he hardly recognized her out there, she was THAT aggressive. The worst part? Jonah thought it was the wind. I thought it was how preoccupied I got with someone else's kid. Toni thought it was when that one girl tripped her for no reason during the last game. The freakiest part? You would have THOUGHT it was those two black rabbits we saw fist-fighting off on the side of the road. In the middle of nowhere. (Are there black rabbits in the wild?? Maybe there's a story to be told about "violent wabbits" after all!) But, alas, we all agreed that Mattie's dad was the freakiest thing of all.
Unfortunately, from my experience, there always is a Mattie's dad at every game. I played soccer, basketball, and softball all through school, and my boys play now and I think I can count on one hand the games where there wasn't one of those jackasses. Yes, even at a 3 year olds soccer game there are Mattie's dad. Crazy and so sad.
ReplyDeleteI think a nice piece of duck tape should do the trick for Mattie's dad, no??
ReplyDeleteOh, do I agree about the parents-at-games issue. Makes me just crazy. If you keep you mouth shut, the kid realizes that no one is cheering for her/him, and that is enough. I especially hate when I get stuck sitting next to one of those loud and negative parents.
ReplyDeleteBlack rabbits fist fighting??? Were you really, really tired while driving home??? :)(: Just askin'!!
The one and only summer my kids did soccer, my daughter was 4. 4-year-old soccer, as you probably know, consists mainly of trying to find the ball and occasionally making contact with it, while wandering around the field picking dandelions. Emma excelled at dandelions, which I figured in future summers she could do in empty fields without me throwing down 90 bucks.
ReplyDeleteBUT. On Emma's team of 4 year old girls there was a pair of adorable 4 year old twins who had one of those awful, loud, pushy soccer dads who was constantly yelling at them, just like Mattie's dad. Just bawling at them to get in there, get the ball, etc etc. I couldn't believe it.
The worst thing was that recently I told this story to a friend of mine and I mentioned the names of the little twin girls, which I remembered because they were rhyming names. My friend said instantly, "I know that family! They live on my street!" She explained that the older boys were all active in soccer and hockey and the dad was the worst kind of aggressive sports-parent. Apparently one day she was passing the house while the kids were playing street hockey and the dad screamed at one of the little girl twins (now all of six or seven): "IF YOU CAN'T TAKE A PUCK IN THE FACE YOU SHOULDN'T BE PLAYING!!!!!"
You know, I can see how people steer their kids towards doing the things they themselves are obsessive about, which explains why my kids STILL can't find the ball on the soccer field. Okay, so my nine year old wrote a book. But it's not like I stood over him at the computer yelling, "Cut out those damn -ly adverbs! What kind of writer are you?!?! SHOW, DON'T TELL!!!!!!" It's the pushy attitude that just horrifies me.
Wow, Trudy, that dude would HATE having me as his child. Because the second someone told me that I shouldn't be playing if I can't take a puck in the face I'd be saying, "Thank you for finally seeing reason!" as I walked away. (Well, that's what the adult me would've said, anyway.) ;)
ReplyDeleteAnd, Lyn, it was BEFORE the long day that we saw the black rabbit fist-fight! Otherwise, I would have definitely chalked that weird sight up to exhaustion. I was so mad at myself for not getting a picture!! Talk about good blog material.
Best line ever: "Durango was almost as cold and windy as Ann Coulter."
ReplyDeleteI have wanted to say something so many times to parent's like Mattie's dad. Love the Ann line...God I dislike her so very much.
ReplyDelete