Those Who Can....

Apparently those who can't grab some poster board and a black marker. That's right, I'm officially "Coach -B" now.

I received a call last week asking me to coach -XV's U-8 soccer team. I've had at least one child playing soccer for the past 6 years. All of those years, with the exception of one, I always thought I could do as good or better of a coaching job. So, I told the registrar I'd love to give it a shot.

We had our first practice last week. The materials the association gave me to prep were pretty helpful and easy to use. I've got a coach's handbook full of a lot of basic information, and a deck of cards with exercises, games, and drills for the team.

I went from just a bit nervous the night before the first practice to pumped and ready the day of. The moment of truth finally arrived, and people started to trickle in. The Earthquake's Fall 2008 season had begun.

A crazy thing kept happening throughout much of practice. For some reason, I kept picturing the AYM.

Let me explain a little. My team has 9 boys on it - 4 are great, 3 are pretty good, and 2 are nightmares. So, I've got all these activities and drills planned. (We actually did a couple of them.) I've got this sideline of parents watching. I've got a couple of other teams on the fields around me. The whole time, I keep thinking "I hope this doesn't look like crap to anybody (parents, other coaches, etc.) watching" Of course, I'm too involved in the actual production of the practice to worry about it going off without a hitch. I don't have much of a chance to supervise, as I'm more or less a player. This just kept making me think of the AYM's posts about doing his worship services, band performances, and whatnot.

The other reminder was I kept wanting to speak my mind about the most problematic child. He cries if we don't play with his ball. Then he cries when someone else kicks his ball. Next, he's grabbing his ball and running around the field hugging it. (And let me say, he is by no means the goalkeeper. Even if he was, he was outside of the box while doing this.) He wants something to drink. He needs to go to the bathroom. (At this point, I'm praying he has to drop a deuce.) I wanted to lay into this kid. Not physically, but just have a real heart-to-heart with him. His dad even coached last year. I keep thinking about the phrase "edit myself", and I do. Where have I heard that before?

So while I'm editing myself, and running around like a maniac, it sort of comes to me. These kids are 6 and 7 year-olds. I had a 7 year-old. I still have a 7 year-old. I was a 7 year old. With that in mind, I stop worrying about the little things and distractions. I stop worrying about how this looks to anyone watching. We finish practice. It goes pretty well. I've got my forwards figured out. I think I have a keeper in mind. I just have no clue how I'm going to teach this crying kid the difference between a forward and a defender next week. Maybe it'll rain.