My Beautiful Wickedness


O. M. G.
April 30, 2007, 4:18 pm
Filed under: Uncategorized

I have become a soccer mom. Ok, not really. Even more perplexing. I’ve become a soccer coach. I thought I was going to sit on the hill by the field, drink a little coffee (heavy on the milk), enjoy the blue sky sun, calmly watch the wind rippling up the long grass, maybe doze a bit while the kids shrieked. Instead, the real coach came over all out of breath and said “there’s too many kids out here! Can you play?” Uhhhhh….I’m willing. Fat. Out of shape. Never played soccer in my life other than to keep my husband running for the ball when he was bored of doing sprints. But willing. And I’m a good teacher, so those skills are transferable.

So I now am the coach of a soccer unit. We have Levi “Don’t Call me little” T. — we nicknamed him Biggle, for Big L, or Big Loser. He’s eager for a little prestige, but like all 9-year-old boys, he’s easily distracted. We have my kid, who is fast as hell and has a rocket leg but no control. We have Janaira R., who is quick and accurate on her goal shots and is becoming the best dribbler on the team. We have Samadi P., who is too little to be on the field and really would rather play with trucks. And we have Henry S., who spent all practice long kicking his ball over the hill and rolling down to retrieve it — zero soccer skills, but he had a blast. So I worked with the bigger kids, played with the little kids, and no one got hurt. Henry learned his right from his left, Samadi sat in the sun and ate some oranges, and Janaira nailed me so hard in the right shin with the ball that I have a knot the size of my fist. Sign her up! I put Biggle in goal so that he could feel special and jump around (he’s tallest) and then he and my kid swapped places so she had a turn to play goalie (which she really wanted to try). Janaira (which I think means “leg of iron” in Shona) continued to drill them through even when two kids played goal simultaneously.

Who would have thought that I would like being a soccer coach? Maybe my mother was right and I should have gone into elementary ed. There is yet time…

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