Graham and David had their first soccer game this past Saturday. They play in a 3 & 4 year-old’s pre-kindergarten league, which is convenient since they are 3 and 4 years old respectively. They have a half hour practice before the games begin, which is much better than a mid week practice because they don’t remember things from one day to the next. I know this by the number of times I repeat myself.
At the first practice, Coach Peter introduced himself and began with some very important, technical drills like ‘look at me when I blow the whistle’ and ‘you must not touch the ball with your hands.’ Personally I thought that the drills were a little advanced for these kids, but he blew his whistle and 9 heads snapped around to look at Coach. The final drill involved a story about how the hungry goal liked to eat soccer balls, and how they needed to feed the goal. During this drill Graham, who either had the biggest jersey on the team or was the shortest person out there, actually scored a goal. He was ecstatic, I’m pretty sure that he thought they’d already started the game.
We were ready for the game to start, and I use the word game in the loosest possible sense because under league rules they do not keep score. The point is to teach the kids about playing as a team, to teach them to follow rules and for them to have fun. Afterwards everyone gets congratulated on a job well done and everyone’s a winner. There are no losers in this league, except for all the kids on the opposing team who lost the game by a score of 5-2. That’s right, I kept score!
Two of our team’s goals came off the talented left foot of my son, David. I was worried when he didn’t score in practice but I guess he’s just my little Allen Iverson. “Practice? We talkin’ about practice?” I couldn’t have been prouder. Two goals puts him on pace for a 16 goal season which would obliterate the single season record. The record, of course, is not official for fear that it might make some kids feel bad about themselves, but it is whispered among the parents on the sidelines. Apparently, four years ago little Timmy Parker once scored 11 goals in a season, but there are rumors that he was juicing. One of his former teammates claimed that before games he’d often notice that Timmy had a red juice mustache.
After the game we celebrated by going to the park right next to the soccer fields. When David and Graham were done playing at the park we headed home, but not before stopping at a sporting goods store to purchase a whistle. TWEET! All eyes on Dad!
3 parenting suggestions:
Everyone knows that everyone is keeping score in their heads. All the older siblings are keeping score and then the parents have to say, "we don't keep score, they are just having fun," but we all know the score in our heads. We are in such a similar place, 3 year old wears the dress, 5 year old scores the goals. We should meet in Lincoln for a play date. :D They serve beer in Lincoln, right?
hey, let me know if that whistle works when used by one of "they who shall be ignored at all costs". Go David.
A whistle. I never thought of that. Might have to go in search of one of them.
My spawn partake in the "swing a heavy metal object at a small white ball balanced on a plastic T" sport. And...well....it's interesting if nothing else. Ok, and it's cute.
Now where can I get me a whistle?
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