Soccer Punch

We recently wrapped up a torturous soccer experience. When a few of my friends indicated that they were going to sign their children up, I thought it would be great fun to watch Gavin run around and chase a soccer ball as I had watched my brother 14-15 years ago (am I that old? Is Reed that old??). Casey swallowed his T-ball dreams and consented, so we cheerfully shelled out the money. At the time, I think my mindset was along the lines of, "What is $65 when we are gaining precious memories?"

How naive was I.

I should have known when we attended the very first soccer meeting and the go-to guy in charge of everything rambled on for 40 minutes about absolutely nothing that was relevant to us. 

I should have known when the shorts they sent with the uniform were so large that every child was in serious danger of indecent exposure on the field.

I should have known when we never knew where/who/when we were playing because there were 2 or 3 different schedules and none of them matched.

I should have known when we showed up one day with our whole team to what we thought was our game location and absolutely no one else was there. Not a soul. Think tumbleweeds blowing in the wind, eerily quiet. Hmmm.

But most of all, I should have known when Gavin had massive tantrums and crying fits for three straight games that...

...he's my child. 

Every parent wants their child to inherit all of their good qualities and none of their bad. It takes me quite a while to sift through my less-desirable qualities to get to one that I'd like Gavin to acquire, and when he started showing signs of THE ONE QUALITY that I absolutely didn't want him to suffer with...well, let's just say I nearly threw in the parenting towel right there on the soccer field. To make matters worse, I'm not the only parent he gets perfectionism from - Casey is nearly as bad, and he also gave Gavin the competitive spirit I saw manifesting itself in frustration as he fought for control of the ball.

In game #1, Gavin was a soccer rock star! He dodged, he parried, he defended, and he even scored the first goal of the season right off the bat! We were thinking life was spectacular!

But then he was completely defeated emotionally in game #2 when the kids were bigger and faster than he was. He was knocked down a few times and scraped up his knees, but it wasn't life-threatening or anything akin to it. He came away feeling like he was a failure because he couldn't kick the ball in the goal the whole time. 


Fail? At 3 years old? In soccer? Seriously??


Games 3-5 were awful. AWFUL. As soon as he was within 15 yards of the field, he dropped his head, sauntered around and said he didn't want to play. With any coercion at all, he would throw himself down on the sidelines and cry. And cry. And yell. I even had to half drag him to the car one time to sit inside and calm down. 


After all of our impulsive tactics failed (we didn't try bribery, which I'm no longer above), I finally came up with a sticker chart of actions he could perform at the soccer game that I thought would at least get him on the field. They included such athletic events as, "Smile." 

"Give someone a high-five."


"Cheer for the other team."


"Get a drink."


I just needed to take his mind off kicking the ball at all, and I was trying to show him the fun in playing the game and being part of a team. Thank goodness for our killer coach, Alexis, who is a super awesome person and was so kind and understanding. (Her son, Owen used amazing defensive techniques that freaked the other team out, like jumping in their faces and roaring like a dinosaur. Awesome.) 

In the last game, Gavin finally yet tentatively played, and the stickers seemed to work. Soccer is no more, Casey is secretly cheering (those Jacobs and their baseball, geez), and I need a vacation. I know Gavin is young and we will try different sports later, but I can't believe the stress and ruckus in our foray into soccer.


Enjoy the photos below, all taken during the first or second game. There is nothing more hypocritical that I could do than to show you smiling photos of either my son or his father or myself in any other game. We'll be starting a new, non-competitive, parent-run sports and activity club this week, so I hope that goes better. 


If it doesn't, at least there will be other parents there to pick up the clumps of hair I am sure to tear out.