I fear for my sanity. Can anyone tell me what I have gotten myself into? I signed up to coach my daughter’s soccer team.
I entered into this fray willingly. I actually ticked off several boxes for volunteer options when I signed Bridget up to play a month or so ago. But it all hit me as I stood at the front of the room with the other coaches earlier this week.
This is not really new territory to me. I was an assistant coach for a high school wrestling team in Maryland for 11 years, so I have handled the pressure before.
But I think having to scream at teenagers in front of a few hundred people who really, really, really, really want the team to win might have been a piece of cake compared to corralling 11 5 and 6-year-olds.
When I coached wrestling, I could tell the kids they couldn’t leave practice to go to the bathroom because, odds are, they just wanted to get out of a hard drill.
I don’t think I can get away with denying bathroom breaks with my new team. In fact, I have a funny feeling that bathroom breaks will be an important part of practice.
The last time I coached, I would spend hours obsessing over every detail. The head coach and I would sit down and discuss strategies. Our wrestlers would scout their opponents.
Now I need to worry about whether the young ladies on my team will be able to have scrunchies and hair bows that match our uniforms. Instead of helping heal injuries, I might have to braid hair.
Coaching at the high school level, I had to worry that the athletes would fall prey to dangers like drinking or get distracted by a girl who would convince them that she needed their attention, not an extra workout.
Now I need to make sure my players don’t stay up watching a little too much Spongebob or occupy their mind with a coloring book instead of the game at hand.
I think I’m going to like it though. I have to admit that I have done my fair share of screaming at officials in the past. I was forbidden by the head coach to talk with officials for a few years thanks to a particular smart-aleck (but clean) comment at one tournament.
All that is behind me now. I spent almost 20 straight years wrestling or coaching at a relatively serious level. I felt uncomfortable when I didn’t have butterflies in my stomach.
Now I get the opportunity to go back to what sports should be all about. I would get that in bursts when I was competing or coaching, but the easy matches or laid-back times would always be followed by a match that produced a lot of tension and plenty of sweating.
I hope the only sweating I do now is when I realize that I forgot to assign a parent to bring a snack for the week’s game. Anything else might be too much to handle.