- submitted by Nancy Star on 03/13/2008
Soccer Insanity. Lollipops The Cure?
By Nancy Star
The question hit me hard, like a soccer ball to the head. How did we get here?
On this particular day I was standing on the sidelines beside all the other soccer boosters from my young daughter's team. We were a mix of parents, grandparents, siblings and dogs. We spent most weekends together now, driving hours to games and tournaments. We were good sports ourselves, having given up things like family getaways, visits with Aunt Jane, and birthday parties. You see, the coaches in this league demanded complete commitment. Try-outs for the team came every June. And no player's spot was guaranteed.
We were not an obnoxious bunch. We cheered, but not too loud. We clapped, but not too long. We never made eye contact with the ref. But not all teams were so well behaved. You know the stories. Parent throws folding chair at coach. Ref throws whistle at parent. When weapons are involved, it makes the national news. If it's just fisticuffs, the soccer forums get to record it for posterity.
We didn't want these things to happen in our town. So to combat soccer rage, our youth league came up with a policy-a requirement that every team designates and trains one parent to deal with bad behavior. I affectionately think of them as the Anti-Rage Reps. They wear large buttons to identify themselves. Think smiley face and you'll have the right idea.
The anti-rage reps, moms mostly, have the thankless job of walking over to angry sputtering spectators and asking them to please calm down, stop shouting and step back from the line. The response, as you can imagine, frequently involves a finger, pointing up.
On this particular day, the opposing team's parents had a reputation for getting out of control. So our anti-rage rep mom had come up with a unique idea. She came to the game with a bag of lollipops and a plan. If anyone yelled too loud she would give that parent a lollipop to suck on.
"Like a reward?" I asked. This didn't seem right.
"No," she said. "Like a tranquilizer." And off she went.
Surprisingly, it worked! Once the yellers started licking those lollies, they didn't feel quite so mad anymore. Try it and you'll see. The urge to yell, "Get Her," "Attack," or "Kill Her Now" fades away when you have an All-day Sucker in your mouth.
After watching the no-longer-belligerent parents of the opponents happily smacking their lips, it was only a matter of time before the rest of us wanted lollipops too. Before long, we all had telltale white sticks poking out of our mouths.
That's when it occurred to me. On the field were two teams of ten-year old girls who played with great seriousness of purpose. They had trained hard, eaten right, and slept well. They looked like miniature professionals -- and why wouldn't they? Hadn't we done everything we could to support their soccer careers?
Wait. Should ten-year-olds have careers?
As the half-time break drew to a close, our daughters stood, legs slightly astride, arms crossed at their chests, listening to the analysis of the first half of the game. They nodded intently as the coach outlined precisely what they needed to do in order to hold their lead. When he was done they dispersed, fanning out in perfect formation to their positions.
We looked on, mouths plugged, like inmates from an adult day-care center out on a field trip. We were one step short of sucking our thumbs, as docile as well-trained pets awaiting our next instructions.
Don't get me wrong. I'm not advocating rage. I don't think it's ever a good idea to scream out, "Bulldozer coming your way," when a big girl comes up behind your daughter on the field. But I do think maybe it's swung too far to the other side. Outlawing the use of verbs? Really? If we see our kid on a breakaway across the field, we're really supposed to whisper, "run, run, run," so quietly that the person sitting next to us won't be sure we've even spoken?
How about using some adult judgment of our own for a change. Let's give a try at being polite and respectful to the coaches. Let's not yell anything at our kids that we wouldn't want them yelling at us. And the next time the coach comes up with a cockamamie idea like telling our kid they can't miss practice for grandma's ninetieth birthday party, how about if we explain to the coach and our kid that, actually, yes they can. Because if going to Grandma's ninetieth birthday party is against the culture of the team, I say it's time to find a new team.
I know. Drawing the line can be hard. But I think we're up to the challenge. We can say yes to team-building pasta parties, and no to mandatory Friday night get-togethers where videos of next week's ten-year-old opponents will be scrutinized and analyzed for strategy. Yes, soccer day camp can be fun, and soccer sleep-away sounds like a good idea for some. But when the memo comes describing the exciting itinerary for this year's overseas summer soccer field trip to Belgium-chaperones included-we actually have the option of sitting our kids down and explaining that this year our family has decided to go on a trip to a cabin in the Adirondacks instead.
Let's get that bag of lollipops and try handing a few over to the ten-year-olds to lick for a change. After all, they're the kids. They can use the break. And so can we.
Nancy Star's novel, CARPOOL DIEM, is out now from Grand Central Publishing. You can visit Nancy at www.nancy-star.com.
Win a copy of CARPOOL DIEM, a hilarious novel about soccer culture gone awry. Send us (http://burbia.com/submit) a brief account of your craziest experience with fanatic coaches or overly zealous parents and we'll send a copy of CARPOOL DIEM to the best submissions. ...read more rants
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