Tag: Soccer

  • The Bored Days of Summer (Unedited)

    We got three days into Summer Vacation, and the kid announced that she was bored.

    “There’s nothing to do”

    “No one to talk to”

    “Nothing to watch”

    “Nothing to read”

    “Nothing to listen to”

    I think you get the idea.

    Not surprised to hear her say this. All kids get bored when they have too much time on their hands. When the get too much freedom, it becomes repressive. As I am the stay at home dad, I get the brunt of the kid’s complaints, and she looks to me to solve this problem of hers.

    My first reaction was to tell her that it’s not my job to eliminate her boredom.

    But as soon as I said that, it dawned on me that it really is my job to end her boredom. Look, if I don’t get involved then she will want to zombie out on the iPad, and that is the worst thing that could happen.

    I’m not saying that she won’t get on the iPad this Summer, but I want to limit that as much as possible.

    Now, I don’t want to create mindless things for her to do, such as dumping a bunch of chores on her. There is no joy or magical memories that come from that. No, what I want to do is encourage healthy habits while also spending time together. (She will help me paint the livingroom this Summer, so she does have one huge chore, but we’ve been talking about that for months now.) I want her to stay active, so we are going to go running, and work on her soccer skills. I also want to keep her reading up, so we need to set time aside for that. She’s brought up that she wants to go to a museum, so that will take care of the art side of things. And I want to encourage her to think about the food she wants to learn how to make, and then we can work on recipe testing.

    IN the end, what I know to be true is that you only get to have so many Summers as a kid. When the days are hot but not too hot, and the Summer feels like it stretches on forever. In two or three years, I really won’t see her over the Summer, as she’ll be involved in something, or will be hanging out with her friends. Until then, I want to make sure she has some memories of enjoying time with her dad. Doing stupid stuff while trying to avoid being bored.

  • ODDS and ENDS: Trains, Planes, and Roadtrips

    (Into this house we’re born…)

    I like the train. See, the kid’s soccer team has started practicing not too far way from the Metro North tracks on Park Ave. The team mets up in the early evening, so all the trains going by are for the rush hour heading out of the City. I’m not saying that I want to commute out the City everyday, but I do miss riding the train for work purposes. A long time ago, I would occasionally take the Long Island Railroad (L I Double R) out to the college I used to work for. On those days, I would be heading in the opposite direction of everyone else; They were coming into the City, and I was heading out. The train was sparsely filled with people, and I got a bit of reading done, or journaling. Other days I would just enjoy watching the City unfurl around me, and give way to Nassau County. It wasn’t the happiest time of my life when I was riding the LIRR, but it was a time that allowed me to be introspective.

    I hate airlines. Flying sucks, and it is not enjoyable. No matter which airline it is, they all blow. Flying today is worse than being on a crowed bus at rush hour. When we make vacation plans, the flying portion of the trip is equal to a hammer being dropped on my foot for three to four hours. The seats suck, the boarding sucks, the nickel and diming sucks, and the other passengers also suck. It’s amazing how the airline industry took something as fun and exciting as flying, and made it uncomfortable as a root canal.

    I love driving across America. And if I have a choice, I will always choose driving over flying. I like highways, and interstates, and roadside attractions. Dinners that are open late, and gas stations that have amazing local restaurants in the back. I like the sound of 18-wheelers passing you on the other side of the highway. I like naps in the backseat, and wondering what is around the bend. I love seeing America, who we are, and how we do things. I love yelling “moo” out the window at cows, and singing in the car. I love moving and discovering.

  • ODDS and ENDS: Surprised I’m Here, Gotta Have Goals, and Sports

    (Nothin’ to do, nowhere to go…)

    I’m forty-seven years old. Not ashamed of my age, and other than a slight pot belly, I think I look rather good for my age. But for the life of me, when I was a kid, like nine years old, I never imagined that I would be this old. Well, sometimes I thought I’d be really old, like eighty, walking with a cane, shuffling around, being all grandpa like. No, when I was a kid, I thought I’d be in my twenties, and then, nothing. Thirty seemed like it was so far away, let alone forty. That some how, it couldn’t be possible that I would live that long. Not that I had some death wish, or believed I was doomed. No, it was more a matter of time. It’s time, the time it would take to become old seemed insurmountable. There just was no way that I could become that old… When I think about me at nine year old, I think he would be surprised that I am still here. And so bald…

    But the thing that makes getting older tolerable, is having a goal. Something to work towards, or look forward to. My Grandma Groff used to say that all the time when she would come and visit. That and it helps to have some spending money. But the goal thing, having something to accomplish, that has made a big difference if the last year for me. Not that it’s completely gone, but I don’t have that feeling of flounder much any more. That I’m just passing through my life, instead of being active in it.

    Growing up, we were a sports family, and then there was me; the un-athletic kid. I mean I tried. I tried my hand at baseball and basketball up through junior high. I really did love playing baseball, but I wasn’t athletically gifted; Batting ninth and right field were my lot. I took tennis lessons in high school, as my dad believed that we should do something physical, and not be a total loaf. I was pretty good at tennis, but I didn’t have the killer instinct for me to actually be competitive. After high school, I stopped playing any sort of sport. And then I had a daughter, who now is very into soccer. Which is cool, because I really like watching it. In my kid’s mind, watching soccer must mean that I know how to play soccer, right? I had written a week or so ago about helping the kid get ready for the soccer club try out. I enjoyed that, mainly because I was spending time with my daughter, but it was good being out and active. I also see in her mind’s eye that she is starting to think I am an athletic type of person. I enjoy this admiration I am receiving from her, but I know that in a year of two, it’s going to dawn on her how awkward and uncoordinated I really am.

  • The Kid’s Soccer Tryout

    I mentioned last week that the kid was invited to try out for her school’s traveling soccer team. In case you missed it, my daughter was very excited about this invitation, and wanted to start running soccer drills as to be prepared. I was equally excited to help out, and we ran soccer drills four days in a row, about an hour a day, to get her ready for the Saturday tryout.

    The kid was all psyched up, and ready to go. I was her kit man on this Saturday, as I had her cleats, towel, change of clothes, and water. The soccer field was attached to a school on the East side of Harlem, and on the walk over, the kid was telling me all the strategies she would deploy to make a good impression on the coaches. No matter what happened, she told me, she was going to do her best.

    When we made it to the school, there were about 28 to 30 girls that were there for the tryout. The coaches called out the names, the girls went in the gate to the field, and we the parents were left on the outside of the fence to watch.

    The coaches broke the girls up into teams of four, and had them play short ten-minute games. What I found odd was that, none of the coaches were paying very close attention to the girls. And when I say “paying attention” I mean they didn’t seem to be evaluating anyone’s skills. None of the coaches had clipboards, or anything to take notes. They just, kind’a, watched the kids, encouraged them to play and have fun, and every ten minutes, told the kids to take a water break. I wasn’t sure what I was expecting out of the coaches, but being that I am not a soccer coach, I reminded myself I should trust the people who are the coaches; I’m sure they know what they’re doing.

    Anyway, from my observation, the kids all just ran after the ball, sort’a clumped around it, and kicked wildly. There wasn’t a whole lot of “team” playing, so much as it was just kicking the ball at the goal, no matter who or what was in the way. Passing was rather non-existent.

    That’s not to say that there were two very talented girls out there. Like, heads and shoulders above the skill of the other kids. These two girls could dribble, and spin, and fake out, and kick – like really smash the ball. Like, we all knew they were making the team.

    As for the other girls, including my kid, they all had a blast out there. Just running, and kicking, and laughing, and screaming. They were having fun, and as the tryout wore on, maybe that was what the coaches were looking for – who is excited to be out there and playing.

    But I did keep some stats on my kid. She took five shots on goal, scored one goal, and -are you ready for this – passed the ball to an open player and got an assist. I was impressed. As far as I could tell, it was the only assist of the afternoon.

  • Coaching My Kid

    I like soccer/football. If you follow this blog, then you know that I support Tottenham Hotspur, and follow all the major international football tournaments. I am a fan, through and through.

    My daughter knows I’m a football fan, and on occasion will watch a match with me. Yet, I think she has come to believe that my dedicated fandom also equals that I know how to physically play soccer.

    I mean, I know how to kick a ball with the inside of my foot. I also can explain the offside rule…

    My daughter is going to try out for a travel soccer team, and she wants to be prepared. As a man who strives to be a good father, I am 100% in support of her ambition, and am willing to do anything to help out. For me, that meant going to YouTube and watching a video on teaching your kids the fundamentals of soccer by running several different drills.

    My kid, to say the least, was very surprised that I needed to watch a video, as she explained to me that she expected that I should “just know” how to coach soccer. I won’t say disappointed, but I think she is now coming to understand that when I yell at the Tottenham players that “I could do that!” when they mess up a play, I don’t actually mean that I could do that.

    Better she learn that now.

    As for coaching her; it’s actually fun. I have a drill checklist, and we go to the park every day and run through them. I find myself saying cool coach stuff like, “give me ten more.” Or “Dig deep and try that again.” She responds positive to it, which reinforces that I know what I am doing.

    And maybe I do know what I am doing.