I have not yet written about the World Cup. Needless to say, I'm not really in the mood to talk at length about Sunday's gut punch draw v. Portugal. So instead of a long, whiney diatribe about the US's failure to defeat Portugal and ensure advancement in the World Cup, I thought I would reflect on my entire weekend.
I will start with Friday, noon. That is about when my weekend began, because that is about when I left work for the weekend. I drove home on a gorgeous Friday afternoon, ready to begin two major events of the summer.
First, however, I had to eat lunch and serve ice cream. This past winter was a little snowy in Fairfax County. For reasons that I can't understand, Eldest and Middle were not scheduled to finish school until June 20, 2014. With all the snow, Fairfax County added three days to the schedule, so the last day of school is June 25, 2014. Of course, the high schools did not change their exam schedules or graduations. All seniors graduated and all other high school students finished exams by June 19. So, the county is paying a ton of money for 4 completely useless days. The elementary schools get out early on Mondays and on the last day of school. So the county is paying a ton of money for them to go to school for two half days (plus one full day.) The absurdity of this is beyond words.
Let's add to this absurdity the fact that every student and every teacher is essentially done with school. No one is interested in this last half week of school, because some time around June 12, people realize it is June and school should be over. They are filling the days with parties, concerts, camp in your room days and movies.
Friday afternoon was Middle's end of the year ice cream party. Middle's teacher is a large, sarcastic woman who would not be anyone's idea of a second grade teacher. Luckily, this worked for Middle, so he had a very good year. The Wife has told me several times that I need to volunteer, so I can "see them in their natural habitat." After the ice cream party, I'm not sure I was ready for that. These kids are crazy. So, we threw a bunch of ice cream and candy toppings at them in late June, when they still have four days of school left. Recipe for disaster. Of course, being a parent volunteer is kind of like being a grandparent. You get to have some fun, then leave. So I left.
I went home to clean a little of the house, say good-bye to the wife, and head to Pre-K graduation. Yes, Pre-K Graduation. According to Wikipedia, "Graduation is the action of receiving or conferring an academic degree or the ceremony that is sometimes associated, where students become graduates." Nothing about this definition applies to Pre-K. However, despite my bad attitude, I enjoyed Pre-K graduation. It was quick, simple, and Youngest was adorable in a blue cap and gown. They did not overdo it. They did it right. Make the kids look cute, let them feel good about themselves, don't take too much time. The weekend started well.
I then went to swim practice to let Youngest play in the pool, get Eldest and Middle from practice and hand out team t-shirts. Shortly after I got there, The Wife texted me that she had left the airport and was almost home. Shortly thereafter, she let me know she was heading up to the pool. My summer was about to change rather dramatically.
For the past two summers, we have hired someone to watch the two older boys for the summer. This is known by several teenagers affiliated with our swim team as one of the best summer jobs you can get. The swim team loves our boys and the "summer nanny" gets to play with them during the day, take them to the pool and play Wii, all while getting paid. We started planning for this summer two years ago, because Youngest would be added to the job, but wouldn't be on the swim team. We needed someone prepared to handle all three boys (something I can't even do) and unaffiliated with the swim team. We turned international, to The Wife's Lithuanian God-Daughter, henceforth known as Our 4th Child.
The Wife was coming up to the pool with Our 4th Child, who had just landed from a really long flight from Lithuania. I guess any flight from Lithuania is really long, so that was redundant. Regardless, I was about to meet our summer nanny and the teenage girl who The Wife and I will be responsible for this summer. I was excited to meet her. I am concerned about how to handle a teenage girl. I have three sons. I had two brothers. My father had two brothers. I don't do girls.
The first meeting went well. Our 4th Child seemed very happy and excited to be in Virginia. Eldest, who had been desperate for her arrival was bouncing off the walls to finally meet her. Youngest seemed pretty excited. Middle, well, he's a little more cautious. It is taking him a little time. We said hello then The Wife took everyone home and ordered pizza. I kept handing out t-shirts, but went home soon enough, after picking up the pizza.
Saturday morning brought rain and our first summer swim meet. Summer swim has been a staple for my entire life. The first summer swim meet each summer is like a breath of fresh air, a new beginning. This year, apparently, it was like a Lithuanian summer day, grey, drizzly, and a little cold. We were supposed to introduce Our 4th Child to a mid-Atlantic Summer, hot, hazy, humid, afternoon thunderstorms. Instead, she brought "summer" with her.
That first meet was a resounding success. The team won (not a common occurrence the last two years), Eldest finished every race ahead of all his competitors (but didn't win all his races because he was disqualified in backstroke), Middle scored in all three events (but was disqualified in his relay) and Our 4th Child didn't run back to the airport, thinking we were crazy for waking her at 6 am to drag her all the way across Fairfax County in the rain for a swim meet. Good start for us.
Sunday, we went mini-golfing. Apparently, Lithuanians don't have mini-golf. We will make that reason number 2 not to live in Lithuania. Once we get her to talk about winter, I'm sure we will get to reason numbers 3-11. It took Our 4th Child a couple holes to get used to some little things like how to hold a club. Eventually she got it and dropped one hole-in-one while finishing second in the family overall. Later she picked up Wii Sports almost as quickly. We may have a "stupid games Americans play" prodigy on our hands. She also learned the "joy" of playing mini-golf with Youngest, who finishes every hole by encircling it with a golf club held backwards pushing the ball in a spiral ever closer to finally dropping it in the hole. Hard as this may be to believe, watching him do this is both more ridiculous and more frustrating than reading that absurd sentence I just wrote.
Finally, we grilled some barbecue chicken, made some corn on the cob, steamed some green beans and ate dinner. After dinner, we sat down to watch the US-Portugal game, somewhat delayed, on TiVO. Eldest, Middle and Youngest were put to bed at halftime, but all came back to the game for the last 10 minutes. I decided to let them stay and see the victorious ending. Great choice, idiot. Instead, we had to put all three back in bed in a bad mood. Then Dad went to bed in a bad mood.
So, that was it. Obviously, it was a terrible weekend, because of the game. The only thing worse would have been if Ronaldo scored the last goal, instead of assisting it.
My boys are learning the pain of being a sports fan. Our 4th Child has been introduced to America with swim meets, American food, mini golf and disappointing soccer results. All sounds about right.
I don't know what to expect from the rest of the summer. After this past weekend, we are all exhausted. We have about 6 months worth of plans to fit into 6 weeks, including a visit to Philadelphia. The culmination of the summer with Our 4th Child will be a girls night out to MetLife Stadium for a One Direction concert. We will explain that later and possibly require a guest blogger, as I, sadly, am not a girl and will not be participating.
That was my weekend. Excitement, exhaustion, fun and gut punch. My summer promises much, much more.
Tuesday, June 24, 2014
Tuesday, June 10, 2014
Forrest Gump
"Mama always said 'Life is like a box of chocolates...you never know what you're gonna get.'" -Forrest Gump
For the third season in a row (Spring, 2013, Fall, 2013 and Spring 2014), and the fourth time in five seasons, I coached Eldest's soccer team. After the first season as a head coach, I told The Wife I was not going to do it again.
One year later, after a reasonably successful season as Middle's assistant coach the intermittent season, I volunteered to be an assistant for Eldest. I thought I had the perfect plan. I would go back and forth as the assistant coach for Eldest and Middle. Unfortunately, my plan was derailed by a lack of coaches. Since I had volunteered as an assistant, I was on the grid. When the league was short of head coaches, they immediately asked the people who volunteered to be an assistant coach to climb the next step. I agreed out of guilt and the chance to request that Eldest's best friend be on our team. I managed to get a couple other friends on the team, making the season much better for Eldest.
That season was fantastic. I had a pretty good team that became great when the heir to Maradona appeared at practice one day. I blogged several times about my experience and finished a nearly perfect season. Due to the success we had, but even more the one failure, I let the team know I would coach again the next season. Eight of the boys from the first season played again the following season. Little Maradona was not one of them. We had a pretty good team anyway, and finished with a winning record. I learned that season that I am probably not that great a coach, I was just fortunate to have some good players and one great player.
After the second season, I struggled with the question of whether I would coach again. To a certain extent, I enjoy coaching. I like helping out, I enjoy watching the boys play and improve, and I like to be in control. If we have a coach I believe is better than me, the control thing doesn't matter that much. In Eldest's first two seasons playing soccer, he had fantastic coaches. These two gentlemen convinced me that I should not coach, because I could not, and have not, lived up to the standard they set. Unfortunately, the law of averages caught up to us and his third coach, although always willing to volunteer, really didn't know what he was doing. I couldn't idly stand by and watch the impending disaster of that season, so I became the assistant coach.
That was basically how the cycle began. I was part of the grid, one of the known entities to the league. I have seen the select few others. Each season I have coached, the opposing coaches are usually the same people. Out of six coaches this season, five coached last fall and at least three coached last spring. This winter I had to decide whether I would coach again. I was beginning to enjoy it less. I like being able to yell at the boys without being "that parent," but at the end of each season, I was progressively more tired and frustrated. I remember Dean Smith saying that he never decided on retirement when a season ended, because he always wanted to retire then. He made the decision as the next season approached. I am not comparing myself to Dean Smith or equating coaching nine year olds in a house soccer league to coaching UNC basketball, but I understand where he was coming from.
Ultimately, I decided to coach again for the opportunity to coach one of the players one more time. His mother emailed me to ask if I was going to coach again and strongly implied that he would not play soccer if I was not going to coach. I decided I wanted to coach him again. There were several other players I wanted to coach again, including Eldest, and I did feel a sense of obligation to the team as a whole, so I signed up. The strong implication was confirmed when the one player's parents told me he was going to play flag football if I didn't coach. My team this spring had four new players and seven returning from last fall, including six from last spring.
The absence of little Maradona was significant because I didn't have a player who could just score. I had a few players with good skills, one with a really good shot and a few others with some valuable strengths, but, in the most important way, my team was like the US Men's National team, no real striker. We could control possession, we played great defense and my goalies rarely failed to surprise me. We just struggled to score. Our first game was a 1-0 win. We had plenty of chances, we just couldn't get the ball in the net.
In the second game, we were scored on in the first two minutes. I looked very carefully at the scorer. Little Maradona. That was the surprise I had feared for two seasons. Within the next 10 minutes, he assisted on another goal, giving a teammate a shot at an empty net. At halftime, I told the team how to stop him, which is basically to challenge him as soon as he gets the ball, or deny him the ball. Little Maradona is a true striker. He waits around for his chance to score, but doesn't do much else. Eldest took it upon himself to stop Little Maradona and did an excellent job. I considered directly challenging Eldest, but decided that coaching one 10-year old to specifically stop another 10-year old in a house league is a bt unsportsmanlike. Eldest did it on his own. We lost the game 3-0, but Little Maradona didn't do anything in the second half.
In our first 5 games, we went 2-2-1 and scored a total of 5 goals. In our 6th game, we faced Little Maradona again. We won 6-1. One of my players, a very talented, but lazy athlete, put in 3 goals. He should have passed the ball several times, but almost never did and just fought his way to the goal and put the ball in the net. I have no idea which player will show up, the one who pulled off the 3-gaol, 1-assist game in game 6, or the one who looks lost and watches the action. Another sign that I am not that good a coach is I can't figure this out or fix it.
The league had 6 teams and we played 8 games. We finished the season 4-2-2. Through random luck, we had the chance to avenge both of our losses, which we did. We avenged a 3-0 loss with a 6-1 win and we avenged a 2-1 loss with a 3-1 win. Luckily, I'm not competitive so I don't pay attention to these things.
Throughout the season, I found myself surprised by my boys. One player who looks nothing like a soccer player, played solid defense and proved himself to be a reliable goalie through pure instincts, despite being the Rudy of my team (not a speck of athletic ability.) We would score no goals one game, and 6 the next. I spent three seasons trying to convince one player to pass the ball, something I was convinced he would never do. In the final game, he made several excellent passes, including the best give and go pass I have ever seen in a house league game. The player I wanted to coach again grew into an even better player, and should have had several assists in our final game, because he became great at crossing the ball in front of the goal. The rest of the team finally started to understand why I told them to stay in front of the goal.
Even Eldest surprised me in our last game. Eldest's best move is running down an opposing player with the ball and taking it from him. In our final game, Eldest caught an opposing player despite a 20 yard lead and only 40 yards to the goal, cut in front of him and took the ball away to prevent a one-on-one shot with the goalie. Everyone watching was amazed at that, none more than the kid who thought he was about to tie the game up. Except maybe his coach. Amazingly, he did it without even touching the opposing player.
I am temporarily resigning from coaching Eldest to coach Middle next fall. Being the parent of multiple children means spreading your time around a bit. I will miss my team. The timing is right. The league changes format when the players turn 11. Two of my players (who have both been on the team for 3 seasons) are moving. I will miss coaching several of the boys, and not miss coaching a few of them. I will miss coaching boys who are a little older, because I like to be a little mean, and I don't think I should be mean to 8-year olds. I am, however, interested in what I will find in my next box of chocolates.
For the third season in a row (Spring, 2013, Fall, 2013 and Spring 2014), and the fourth time in five seasons, I coached Eldest's soccer team. After the first season as a head coach, I told The Wife I was not going to do it again.
One year later, after a reasonably successful season as Middle's assistant coach the intermittent season, I volunteered to be an assistant for Eldest. I thought I had the perfect plan. I would go back and forth as the assistant coach for Eldest and Middle. Unfortunately, my plan was derailed by a lack of coaches. Since I had volunteered as an assistant, I was on the grid. When the league was short of head coaches, they immediately asked the people who volunteered to be an assistant coach to climb the next step. I agreed out of guilt and the chance to request that Eldest's best friend be on our team. I managed to get a couple other friends on the team, making the season much better for Eldest.
That season was fantastic. I had a pretty good team that became great when the heir to Maradona appeared at practice one day. I blogged several times about my experience and finished a nearly perfect season. Due to the success we had, but even more the one failure, I let the team know I would coach again the next season. Eight of the boys from the first season played again the following season. Little Maradona was not one of them. We had a pretty good team anyway, and finished with a winning record. I learned that season that I am probably not that great a coach, I was just fortunate to have some good players and one great player.
After the second season, I struggled with the question of whether I would coach again. To a certain extent, I enjoy coaching. I like helping out, I enjoy watching the boys play and improve, and I like to be in control. If we have a coach I believe is better than me, the control thing doesn't matter that much. In Eldest's first two seasons playing soccer, he had fantastic coaches. These two gentlemen convinced me that I should not coach, because I could not, and have not, lived up to the standard they set. Unfortunately, the law of averages caught up to us and his third coach, although always willing to volunteer, really didn't know what he was doing. I couldn't idly stand by and watch the impending disaster of that season, so I became the assistant coach.
That was basically how the cycle began. I was part of the grid, one of the known entities to the league. I have seen the select few others. Each season I have coached, the opposing coaches are usually the same people. Out of six coaches this season, five coached last fall and at least three coached last spring. This winter I had to decide whether I would coach again. I was beginning to enjoy it less. I like being able to yell at the boys without being "that parent," but at the end of each season, I was progressively more tired and frustrated. I remember Dean Smith saying that he never decided on retirement when a season ended, because he always wanted to retire then. He made the decision as the next season approached. I am not comparing myself to Dean Smith or equating coaching nine year olds in a house soccer league to coaching UNC basketball, but I understand where he was coming from.
Ultimately, I decided to coach again for the opportunity to coach one of the players one more time. His mother emailed me to ask if I was going to coach again and strongly implied that he would not play soccer if I was not going to coach. I decided I wanted to coach him again. There were several other players I wanted to coach again, including Eldest, and I did feel a sense of obligation to the team as a whole, so I signed up. The strong implication was confirmed when the one player's parents told me he was going to play flag football if I didn't coach. My team this spring had four new players and seven returning from last fall, including six from last spring.
The absence of little Maradona was significant because I didn't have a player who could just score. I had a few players with good skills, one with a really good shot and a few others with some valuable strengths, but, in the most important way, my team was like the US Men's National team, no real striker. We could control possession, we played great defense and my goalies rarely failed to surprise me. We just struggled to score. Our first game was a 1-0 win. We had plenty of chances, we just couldn't get the ball in the net.
In the second game, we were scored on in the first two minutes. I looked very carefully at the scorer. Little Maradona. That was the surprise I had feared for two seasons. Within the next 10 minutes, he assisted on another goal, giving a teammate a shot at an empty net. At halftime, I told the team how to stop him, which is basically to challenge him as soon as he gets the ball, or deny him the ball. Little Maradona is a true striker. He waits around for his chance to score, but doesn't do much else. Eldest took it upon himself to stop Little Maradona and did an excellent job. I considered directly challenging Eldest, but decided that coaching one 10-year old to specifically stop another 10-year old in a house league is a bt unsportsmanlike. Eldest did it on his own. We lost the game 3-0, but Little Maradona didn't do anything in the second half.
In our first 5 games, we went 2-2-1 and scored a total of 5 goals. In our 6th game, we faced Little Maradona again. We won 6-1. One of my players, a very talented, but lazy athlete, put in 3 goals. He should have passed the ball several times, but almost never did and just fought his way to the goal and put the ball in the net. I have no idea which player will show up, the one who pulled off the 3-gaol, 1-assist game in game 6, or the one who looks lost and watches the action. Another sign that I am not that good a coach is I can't figure this out or fix it.
The league had 6 teams and we played 8 games. We finished the season 4-2-2. Through random luck, we had the chance to avenge both of our losses, which we did. We avenged a 3-0 loss with a 6-1 win and we avenged a 2-1 loss with a 3-1 win. Luckily, I'm not competitive so I don't pay attention to these things.
Throughout the season, I found myself surprised by my boys. One player who looks nothing like a soccer player, played solid defense and proved himself to be a reliable goalie through pure instincts, despite being the Rudy of my team (not a speck of athletic ability.) We would score no goals one game, and 6 the next. I spent three seasons trying to convince one player to pass the ball, something I was convinced he would never do. In the final game, he made several excellent passes, including the best give and go pass I have ever seen in a house league game. The player I wanted to coach again grew into an even better player, and should have had several assists in our final game, because he became great at crossing the ball in front of the goal. The rest of the team finally started to understand why I told them to stay in front of the goal.
Even Eldest surprised me in our last game. Eldest's best move is running down an opposing player with the ball and taking it from him. In our final game, Eldest caught an opposing player despite a 20 yard lead and only 40 yards to the goal, cut in front of him and took the ball away to prevent a one-on-one shot with the goalie. Everyone watching was amazed at that, none more than the kid who thought he was about to tie the game up. Except maybe his coach. Amazingly, he did it without even touching the opposing player.
I am temporarily resigning from coaching Eldest to coach Middle next fall. Being the parent of multiple children means spreading your time around a bit. I will miss my team. The timing is right. The league changes format when the players turn 11. Two of my players (who have both been on the team for 3 seasons) are moving. I will miss coaching several of the boys, and not miss coaching a few of them. I will miss coaching boys who are a little older, because I like to be a little mean, and I don't think I should be mean to 8-year olds. I am, however, interested in what I will find in my next box of chocolates.
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