Saturday, October 22, 2005
A quickie-post on my worst moment as soccer-dad
My oldest son finished his last soccer game of the fall (they pick up the season after the winter) and I had my worst day as a soccer dad. He's in U-12 which is quite a bit more serious than U-10 from last year--full field, all the positions, and they actually call offsides which is a penalty I still do not clearly understand. During the 3rd quarter the game was going well though a bit chilly since all of his games this year have started at 8am. Youngest son got a bit antsy and wanted to kick a soccer ball around so we went into enemy parent territory where there was a flat spot. We were just about to retreat to "our" end of the field, when my son's coach (who was referring) called an offsides on the opposing team. The parents around me went crazy: "What was that? What are you talking about?" and then amongst themselves, "He doesn't know what he's talking about; he wouldn't know soccer from ..." That was enough to put me over the edge: "HE doesn't know what he's talking about? He's played four years of college soccer and works his butt off as a coach... " (I babbled some more stuff but it was mostly full of grunts and generally incomprehensible). Mark it: this was my first time getting upset at my kids' sporting events. It's not that I really understood the the offsides call that was made and I wouldn't have minded if they contested the call but not the coach's integrity. Coach Degraw has been my son's best coach yet--works them hard with running and drills, pushes them to be their best, but always makes game-times decisions based on what's best for the team rather than just winning. It didn't turn into anything too big (the parents, or maybe they were grandparents which would make me feel worse, kind of gave me a mocking apology saying they didn't know he'd played in college and then, thinking I couldn't hear, "that's probably only a rule in college soccer") but still I felt kind of stupid. And, mostly, I was afraid that as my son gets older and I get less able to compete myself, I might find out I'm one of those dad's who yell at refs and players and then punch it out with some parent.
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3 comments:
It's hard NOT to yell at kids' sporting events. I did it last year at Son's soccer games. Mostly I was yelling at Son for trying to pick up his teammates, or for sitting down in the dirt while play went on else where. But yes, I think we are all afraid of becoming the stereotype. But I think we're all a long way from picking a fight with another parent. At least I think we are.
Yes, by all means, draw the line at actual physical contact--shoving people, the whole chest-puffing thing, or God forbid, actual hitting. Then, when you yell, you'll only be an ass, not a violent ass.
I watched so many soccer games and have my own stories to tell of when I was an ass. By the end, I just set up my chair at some remote position so that I could mutter my comments unheard. I was pretty good, by the end of it, to only actually yell encouraging remarks. Pretty good. That was after about 14 or 15 years of soccer mom life. You can use that as a baseline, if you like.
Ah, your bringing back warm, fuzzy memories with this post--memories of playing home b-ball games in high school with Sleepy E. Red-faced fathers in the stands in various stages of inebriation. I can still recall after we won a division playoff game one of the fathers (a former player at the school) running out at me in a full-on drunken fit. He picked me up off the ground and gave me a big bear hug. "The whiskey on his breath could make a small boy dizzy." Luckily I was 6'4''.
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