Thursday, October 18, 2012

The Accidental Coach


In the now-cancelled TV series "Heroes" there was a character who could learn to do anything by watching it done once. I claim no such superpower, but I am a quick study, and I'd seen enough of my sons' soccer practices to know that my third son's weren't as efficient as the others. I made some suggestions. I had a pulse. I became a coach.

Takoma Park is the Ann Arbor of the Mid-Atlantic. A "No Nukes" city, irreverent floats and a lawn mower brigade appear in its Independence Day parades. The downtown boasts a food Coop and a store that sells Birkenstocks. The goal of the Takoma Park Soccer Club is to foster a love of the sport in children; everyone plays, regardless of ability. Once, when a parent complained about physical play in a more competitive neighborhood league, another parent shouted, "This ain't Takoma Park, you know!" So not only are we flower children, we're pansies.

I learned to play soccer after I turned 40, which isn't too many years ago. When I confided to Howard Kohn, the league's commissioner, that I felt like a fraud he replied, "The less you know the easier it is to coach young kids. You learn with them. If you can hold their attention, you've accomplished something." In other words, I wouldn't have to explain offsides.  

At the first practice I, along with two other parent coaches, rounded up 17 third grade boys and girls. We broke into small groups and rotated them through stations where they spent time on footwork, trapping and passing. Smaller groups meant less opportunity for their minds to wander and more time touching the ball.

Being a goalkeeper is tough; kids need good reflexes and can't be afraid of being in a scrum. Many kids don't like the position so those who volunteer play. Our first game made clear that enthusiasm is important but so is practice. From the sidelines the coaches shouted, "Use your hands!" "Run to the top of the box to punt the ball!" but the words dissipated before they could reach intended ears. We got scored on. A lot.

One goalkeeper tried to use his feet to knock the ball away allowing several goals in the last quarter. We lost the game and he was discouraged. At practice the following week I showed him how to field the ball with his hands then had him practice blocking shots from his teammates. He was catching on and seemed eager to do more. After practice I shared with his mother my belief that he would make an excellent keeper because wasn't afraid of the physical contact. I then demonstrated a drills she and her husband could practice with their son at home. 

At the next game the boy asked if he could play goalie so I put him in the second quarter. He made several saves scooping the ball as instructed. Fairly athletic, he could punt the ball to midfield without running to the top of the box. Clearly he had practiced on his own. He left the field happy. Working with children it is rarely obvious if our how we make a difference; it was that afternoon and I accepted it for the gift it was.

Thursday, October 11, 2012

Mirror, Mirror Blog

My blog is mirroring my life. I have four posts waiting for final edit, one I started in June. If my draft blog posts are anything like the light fixture on my porch they will languish in darkness for another four years.

If they're like broken windows, I may get to them sooner. Today the repairmen replaced the glass my son claimed to have broken while sleepwalking in May.

Others are like the mums I bought from the elementary school plant sale. I attend to them immediately so they won't dry out, turn brown and die.

Thankfully words are more flexible than flowers and here I am writing a post for the first time in weeks. I will silence my compulsive editor and hit the Publish button before going to bed. The electrician, whose number has been on my task list since August, just may get a call tomorrow.