Living Happily Ever After

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Dressed To Spectate, But…

“Coaching is easy. Winning is the hard part.” (Elgin Baylor)

My youngest is playing soccer, for the first time, this fall. It’s something he has been begging to participate in for a couple of years, so we decided to try it this year. As the start of the season approached, I began getting emails from the league, “Your child has been placed on a team. However, we still need a coach, an assistant coach, and a team parent for your child’s team. Please volunteer.”

I confess, I ignored those requests. I was a basketball player; I never played soccer, I knew nothing about the game (other than I think you can’t touch the ball with your hands); not to mention the fact that I work full-time in another city from where the soccer practices and games take place.

As the day of the first game approached, the same emails kept coming. I finally responded with one of my own: “I’ve never played soccer, I know nothing about soccer, but I am willing to coach if you need me to,” thinking surely, one of those dads of the boys on the team would volunteer! I didn’t hear anything back, assumed a dad had stepped forward, and showed up at the first game. Expecting to spectate. To find out…I was the assistant coach!

I was dressed to spectate (in a skirt and flip flops), not coach, but I joined the boys on the field and did the best I could to provide encouragement, direction, to help control a little kindergarten boy-age chaos and propensity to wrestle even when they should be playing soccer and, of course, to learn the rules of the game. (Many thanks to Tyler, a little boy on my team, who coached the assistant coach that first game!)

We all survived the first soccer game. I’m not sure who won (I don’t think we keep score at this young age). I only know several boys on my team, including my son, scored goals; and that we had a very supportive cheerleader, my husband, cheering all of us on and making sure we had plenty of water during the breaks (especially the assistant coach) from the sidelines.

As I walked off the field at the end of the first game, all I could do was shake my head at ANOTHER unexpected adventure…in the unexpected life.

Life is like that, you know.

“Coaching in the NBA is not easy. It’s like a nervous breakdown with a paycheck.” (Pat Williams)

My experience is slightly easier than that, thank goodness! No paycheck, but no breakdowns, either. At least, not during that first game.

More to come.

Stay tuned.

Shrek II

With each new day, September got closer. He’d passed the ultimate slow dance test, but before I uttered THE words, I reassured myself regarding my decision by asking Bachelor #5 every question I could think of, every possible scenario I could brainstorm, and he patiently addressed them all.

I couldn’t believe it, but I continued to uncover layers of Bachelor #5.

One day, he mentioned in passing something about a master’s degree. I’d known him at least 6 months and it was the first time, apparently, THAT had come up! I stopped and asked, “Hold on, did you just say you have a MBA?” He said, “Yes, why?” I replied, “I can’t believe you’ve never told me that before. I’ve known you this long and it’s the first time you mentioned it!” He said, “Well, I told you I taught some college classes several years ago…” Yes, but I hadn’t stopped to think about what that implied. Another layer discovered.

He took my children and I to a park in the canyon near my home to play tag. Guess who couldn’t be caught? My teenage son looked at me and said, “Mom, I don’t think he’s that old! He’s really fit–and fast! I wouldn’t worry about his age any more.” Another layer gone.

Then there was the time he got on a trampoline and taught my four-year-old how to do flips. I was thinking he was pretty spry for a grandpa of 48 years old–and then when he was alone on the trampoline and thought no one was watching, he started jumping really high. Right about the time I noticed him jumping high, and started to worry he was going to hurt himself, he did a Russian! (Any former cheerleaders out there who know what that is?) The twenty-something former cheerleader I was talking to looked at me and raised her eyebrows. She really liked Bachelor #5 and probably wanted to ask, “And you think he is ‘old,’ why?” Another layer gone.

I realized, “Age is something that doesn’t matter, unless you are a cheese” (Billie Burke)