What's the use of having your own blog if you can't use a bad play on words.
Sadly, the title says it all. Eldest's second soccer game of the season ended in a 5-3 loss. As a father, I told him he played well (which he did) and was happy to hear him say he was fine with it. After the game was over, he got a bag of chips and a bottle of Gatorade and he was over the loss. I had a little more trouble with it.
I knew this was going to be a tough game. We won our first game 3-1. It was well played, and we basically dominated the game, notwithstanding the fairly competitive score. Our opponents in the second game won their first game about 12-0. That was the estimate given to me by a friend who either intentionally gave up counting the score or forgot his abacus and couldn't keep up. When I got to the game, I recognized the assistant coach on our opponents as the man who completely outcoached me the previous spring. I had a pretty bad feeling at that point.
The game began about as badly as I feared. We gave up a pretty quick goal on a nice crossing pass to a wide open player in front of the goal. My entire defense left the goal open and our inexperienced goalie had no chance. We gave up a second goal on an incredible shot. I was fine with that one. I don't even remember the third goal. The fourth goal was some flukey corner kick that either curved into the goal, was an own-goal, or was perfectly placed for an easy shot by a teammate. I was too far away to see exactly what happened, but everyone closer looked surprised that the ball went in the net. That left us behind 4-0 at halftime. I was thinking a 7-1 final score would be a moral victory.
The second half was a completely different game. Our offense started putting some passes together and we got 2 goals early in the half. Then I had a self control moment. Our opponents had the ball in our penalty box with our goalie scrambling a bit. He managed to get his hands on the ball, but had questionable control (I will admit.) A player on the other team kicked the ball out of his hands and scored a goal. To this very moment, I am not sure if I was most upset that they scored the goal or that my goalie almost got kicked in the head. Admittedly, I don't know the exact rule for our U9 league, but I am fairly certain the ref should have protected the goalie, rather than letting him almost get kicked in the head.
My first thought was to berate the referee for failing to protect a 9 year old who I believe had adequate control of the ball. I quickly realized that wouldn't be the best move and that in my present state of mind I would have slipped into a profanity-laced tirade in front of my boys and their parents. I was, however, so angry I almost began said profanity-laced tirade under my breath. Luckily, I saw the three boys sitting on the ground right next to me and left it in my head. Score was now 5-2.
We quickly struck back to pull to 5-3. Visions of pulling out a tie started to dance in my head. A little later, I was wondering why we couldn't get the ball past midfield. I was pretty sure my pre-set line-up had us in a strong position at the end of the game and couldn't figure out what was wrong. Then I looked next to me and realized 2 of the boys I wanted on the field were sitting on the "bench". (There is no bench, but there they were, sitting on the ground next to me.) I checked my substitution schedule and realized I messed it up. We played solid defense (particularly Eldest who is becoming quite competitive) and held on for a 5-3 loss, despite what has been called my "Andy Ried-like in game decision."
I am coaching in a recreational league. The most important thing is to get everyone to play. I try to give everyone equal playing time and believe I have done a pretty good job. Realistically, the group who had trouble getting past midfield for the last 10 minutes would have been on the field during the 10 minutes that we scored 2 of our 3 goals. So my decision to not have a strong line-up on the field at the end of the game probably cost us nothing. But it still sat with me all day. I will wonder all season if we could have pulled out a 5-5 tie if I had the right line-up in the game for those last 10 minutes.
The boys deserve a ton of credit. They played with a lot of heart and never backed down, even after falling behind 4-0. That may be what gets to me the most. I feel like I let them down. I feel like we had a chance and my Andy Ried-like decision blew that chance. I am most likely wrong. It is unlikely we would have scored 3-4 goals in the last 10 minutes. But you never know.
Later in the day, we went to Middle's baseball game. He is in coach pitch, so everyone gets the chance to hit and there are almost no unassisted outs. The day was gorgeous. Eldest, Youngest and a couple of friends were running around the open grassy area playing. Middle got three outs, one while playing pitcher (outran the runner coming from third for a force out at home), two while playing first (field the ball, step on first). He had 3 solid hits and is convinced they won the game. I enjoyed watching him play. I enjoyed the beautiful day. I enjoyed watching the coach's son do his best Ryan ZImmerman impersonation by cleanly fielding a ball at third base and sailing the throw over the first baseman's head. Unfortunately, I spent most of the time thinking about that soccer game and wondering if I had just done things the way I planned...
Friday, April 26, 2013
Friday, April 19, 2013
Victoire!!
This spring I was roped into coaching Eldest's soccer team. I didn't want to (explanation below) and tried to weasel out of it with mostly true comments about my work commitment and commute. Basically, I told the Coordinator I couldn't get out of work in time to then go through my 50-60 minute commute and still make practice by 5 or 6 o'clock.. He immediately told me that a 7 pm practice would be no problem and with the earlier daylight savings time, we should have plenty of light, at least by mid-season. I dwelled on this for a couple of days (that silence must have been brutal to him), then decided if he was that desparate, I'd do it.
I didn't want to coach because I am a competitive jack-ass. While assistant coaching Middle's Under 6 team last fall I had to resist the urge to take out one particularly good and (in my opinion) obnoxious little 5 year old who kept scoring and running up the field like he was Maradona. I don't let the more evil thoughts in my head get the best of me. I usually maintain a cheery demeanor and always remind the kids that playing and having fun are more important than who wins and loses and what the score is. But I don't generally like when even a small part of me is telling my right arm to pick up a soccer ball and launch it at some kid's head.
I also remember coaching Eldest's team last spring. Our first few games were great. I know we won a couple, we may have tied one, we may have lost one, but they were competitive games. I thought the boys were having fun and learning something. Then about halfway through the season we got trounced in a game. As competitive as I am, and as much as I hate losing, I am also realistic. On my golf trip, discussed a few weeks ago, I know I am one of the weaker players and that I don't put the effort into the game to beat most of the other guys. I am fine with that. My frustration in golf comes from losing balls and playing terribly compared to myself, not my position with others. If I swam a race against a clearly better swimmer, I would lose and I would accept that. If my team lost to a team of better players, I would handle it pretty well. This is not the upper most level of soccer, it is a recreational league.
But that first game we lost big, I felt like we were clearly outcoached. I had trouble accepting that. Mostly, I felt like I let my team down. We lost pretty big the following week, and I, once again, felt like we were outcoached. The boys on the other team were playing soccer. The boys on my team were basically chasing butterflies. Not literally, but they may as well have been chasing butterflies. At that point, I decided coaching soccer was not for me. Last fall, I assisted coaching Middle's team, but that is different from head coaching. I just do what the head coach says and the results are his report card, not mine. That's not exactly the best attitude, but I am volunteering and I don't spend the rest of the day feeling miserable and wondering if I am doing a disservice to a bunch of boys and their parents who spent a decent amount of money for their son to play soccer. This is a pretty good example of me not handling losing well and reading too much into it.
One year and a couple of desperate emails later, I found myself coaching again. I tried to correct some of the things I thought I did wrong last spring. I try to make practice fun, but to also teach them a little and make sure they learn both the skills and the strategy of the game. Based on my research of coaching youth soccer, I try to do too much. But I want to win and I want the boys to win. I'll be OK if we don't win every game, but I still want to win them all and I want the boys to be competitive. My son, and two other boys on his team, lost every game they played last fall. I want them to win. Winning and losing don't matter as much as fun and development in youth sports, but winning is better than losing. I think all kids need to lose from time to time because they need to understand that it is going to happen. If they become sports fans, they also need to understand that their favorite teams are going to lose fairly regularly. (Middle somehow has become a LeBron James and Miami Heat fan - he needs to learn this lesson some day. LeBron and the Heat aren't helping.) Kids also need to feel the thrill of victory. To walk off that field with a smile on their face. To not have to be reminded that having fun is the most important thing. At least from time to time.
Our first game was last Saturday, and we got my wish. Eldest and his two teammates from last fall got their win. Eldest scored our second goal in a 3-1 win. I was proud of his goal, because he got it through tenacity. He didn't give up on a 25/25/25/25 ball (that would be a ball in the midst of 4 different players who all have an equal chance at it), took it from the other three and put it into the net. I was equally proud of the team's third goal. One player slipped a pass between two defenders to a teammate wide open in front of the goal. Of course, what I remember most is the 1 of the 3-1 score.
This is the clearest sign that I hate losing more than I enjoy winning. Our boys played great. They created a number of shots, they had a couple of great goals (and one kind of lucky goal). They played good defense and mostly dominated possession. I remember the goal we gave up. I remember why we gave it up and I had to remind myself not to spike my paper pad after we gave up that goal. I then spent the next 10 minutes worried that our 2-0 easy victory was somehow going to turn into a 2-2 disappointing tie. I had to remind myself, many times, that winning isn't important and having fun and getting to play are what matters. I am more proud of how the boys played than I am of myself for not turning into a jack-ass in front of a team of 9 year old boys and their parents. But I was a little proud of myself for that.
When the game was over, hands were shaked and after game snacks were eaten, I allowed myself to enjoy the moment. I congratulated a very happy Eldest on a well played game and a win. About 5 minutes later I started thinking of ways to improve on that goal we gave up. I really do hate losing.
I didn't want to coach because I am a competitive jack-ass. While assistant coaching Middle's Under 6 team last fall I had to resist the urge to take out one particularly good and (in my opinion) obnoxious little 5 year old who kept scoring and running up the field like he was Maradona. I don't let the more evil thoughts in my head get the best of me. I usually maintain a cheery demeanor and always remind the kids that playing and having fun are more important than who wins and loses and what the score is. But I don't generally like when even a small part of me is telling my right arm to pick up a soccer ball and launch it at some kid's head.
I also remember coaching Eldest's team last spring. Our first few games were great. I know we won a couple, we may have tied one, we may have lost one, but they were competitive games. I thought the boys were having fun and learning something. Then about halfway through the season we got trounced in a game. As competitive as I am, and as much as I hate losing, I am also realistic. On my golf trip, discussed a few weeks ago, I know I am one of the weaker players and that I don't put the effort into the game to beat most of the other guys. I am fine with that. My frustration in golf comes from losing balls and playing terribly compared to myself, not my position with others. If I swam a race against a clearly better swimmer, I would lose and I would accept that. If my team lost to a team of better players, I would handle it pretty well. This is not the upper most level of soccer, it is a recreational league.
But that first game we lost big, I felt like we were clearly outcoached. I had trouble accepting that. Mostly, I felt like I let my team down. We lost pretty big the following week, and I, once again, felt like we were outcoached. The boys on the other team were playing soccer. The boys on my team were basically chasing butterflies. Not literally, but they may as well have been chasing butterflies. At that point, I decided coaching soccer was not for me. Last fall, I assisted coaching Middle's team, but that is different from head coaching. I just do what the head coach says and the results are his report card, not mine. That's not exactly the best attitude, but I am volunteering and I don't spend the rest of the day feeling miserable and wondering if I am doing a disservice to a bunch of boys and their parents who spent a decent amount of money for their son to play soccer. This is a pretty good example of me not handling losing well and reading too much into it.
One year and a couple of desperate emails later, I found myself coaching again. I tried to correct some of the things I thought I did wrong last spring. I try to make practice fun, but to also teach them a little and make sure they learn both the skills and the strategy of the game. Based on my research of coaching youth soccer, I try to do too much. But I want to win and I want the boys to win. I'll be OK if we don't win every game, but I still want to win them all and I want the boys to be competitive. My son, and two other boys on his team, lost every game they played last fall. I want them to win. Winning and losing don't matter as much as fun and development in youth sports, but winning is better than losing. I think all kids need to lose from time to time because they need to understand that it is going to happen. If they become sports fans, they also need to understand that their favorite teams are going to lose fairly regularly. (Middle somehow has become a LeBron James and Miami Heat fan - he needs to learn this lesson some day. LeBron and the Heat aren't helping.) Kids also need to feel the thrill of victory. To walk off that field with a smile on their face. To not have to be reminded that having fun is the most important thing. At least from time to time.
Our first game was last Saturday, and we got my wish. Eldest and his two teammates from last fall got their win. Eldest scored our second goal in a 3-1 win. I was proud of his goal, because he got it through tenacity. He didn't give up on a 25/25/25/25 ball (that would be a ball in the midst of 4 different players who all have an equal chance at it), took it from the other three and put it into the net. I was equally proud of the team's third goal. One player slipped a pass between two defenders to a teammate wide open in front of the goal. Of course, what I remember most is the 1 of the 3-1 score.
This is the clearest sign that I hate losing more than I enjoy winning. Our boys played great. They created a number of shots, they had a couple of great goals (and one kind of lucky goal). They played good defense and mostly dominated possession. I remember the goal we gave up. I remember why we gave it up and I had to remind myself not to spike my paper pad after we gave up that goal. I then spent the next 10 minutes worried that our 2-0 easy victory was somehow going to turn into a 2-2 disappointing tie. I had to remind myself, many times, that winning isn't important and having fun and getting to play are what matters. I am more proud of how the boys played than I am of myself for not turning into a jack-ass in front of a team of 9 year old boys and their parents. But I was a little proud of myself for that.
When the game was over, hands were shaked and after game snacks were eaten, I allowed myself to enjoy the moment. I congratulated a very happy Eldest on a well played game and a win. About 5 minutes later I started thinking of ways to improve on that goal we gave up. I really do hate losing.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)