It has happened. I am officially a soccer mom. Might as well get me the minivan and denim capri’s. His team is just called “Salt Lake” and his coach is Alex. This is all a recipe for disaster.
I so rarely overstate things so I know you are already concerned.
I was not ready for Zach to play anything. I think our days are busy enough and we have years to do sports. We have two busy, busy boys and a dad who loves sports. That means years and years of sports unless one of them makes my dream come true and becomes a hip hop dancer (maybe that mean baby can pop and lock).
But Logan is in Zach’s class and they are best buddies. His parents decided to enroll him and asked if we want to join. Always a follower, I called the Y immediately. Then Jen emailed asking if Zach was doing soccer and I told her to get Tyler on Zach and Logan’s team too.
So technically Alex is not the only coach. His friend Scott (Tyler’s dad) is a coach and Court (Logan’
dad) are also coaches. Yes, 12 four year old’s need three coaches. Of course the very first practice none of them could come so who stepped in? Vince, of course. Jen was texting me the entire time about his intensity and how the boys (who have never played an organized sport) were not paying attention nor following directions. Hysterical. I am so sad I missed it.
These are scenes from the second practice. Mayhem. Apparently Zach got kicked with a plastic bucket before James and I arrived and was sitting with Jen for a good portion of the practice.
If you are under the impression Zach was running after the ball and fell down you would be incorrect. I am pretty sure he tripped over his feet and decided to just take a rest while he was down there.
Look at our little team in action! The guy running the wrong direction in the center is one of our ringers, Hector. He is very, very enthusing and actually has some ball handling skill (I say “some” vs “good” as most everyone else has “none”). However he really likes to kick the ball into any goal – including ours.
Don’t worry, James was there. He was not impressed. I feel he is looking with distaste muttering, “Amateurs.”