The Soccer Amoeba

I don't think there is anything more chaotic in this world than little squirrelly kids trying to play soccer. I'm not sure who decided that we needed this grand adventure for our children but the ONLY reason I agreed to the madness was that Husband assured me it would wear Elisabeth out. That seems to be my main goal these days. The girl pops up wide awake at 5:15 AM and runs flat out, jabbering non-stop, until 9 PM at night (and would stay up later if I would let her).

This is her second season in soccer...the first season, I only managed to attend one game and it was during this freezing cold, drizzly rainy afternoon in which I spent most of it in the big blue bus trying to keep Kate from catching pneumonia. Elisabeth was covered in head-to-toe mud by the time she finished and her hands felt like ice.

This season, Husband takes most of the game runs. I went to one of her Saturday games and realized I should probably make sure she has ADHD medication before a game. She was supposed to be playing goalie when I saw her messing with her oversized yellow mesh jersey while humming to herself and hugging one side of the goal post. The opposing team easily scored against her and she looks over at me grinning and shrugging like "Oh well". I ask her why she didn't try to block the kick and she says, "I hate playing goalie. I'm no good at it." I tell her she let her teammates down when she didn't give it her best effort then I wonder to myself "Why do I really care? It's kids soccer, for crying in the night!"

I tell my sister Lisa about it - a veteran soccer mom - and she gives me no sympathy. "Try having the kid who is swinging from the top of the goal box like a trapeze artist." she tells me. "Well," I shoot back, "I had the kid that was crouched down on her haunches playing with blades of grass."

But really, anyone who has observed a game realizes it's just mass confusion. Our teams do not have any real coaching before the first game and half the time the coach is running out on the field with them. The kids haven't quite figured out their positions and poor Elisabeth thought she could not cross the outer white line near the goal...so she'd be charging pell mell and stop on a dime when she reached that as I am telling her to keep going. The rest of the kids follow the ball like one giant soccer amoeba (thanks, Husband, for that imagery) all kicking at each other (thank goodness for shin guards!).

I haven't decided if Elisabeth will continue in soccer. I think the main reason she wants to go out is for the snacks and drinks afterwards. Maybe we'll just skip the mad running two nights a week next time and feast on Nutty Bars and Capri Suns at home.