Wednesday, July 1, 2009

Kids sort of love soccer

I signed my son up for soccer. Did she not learn her lesson after the swimming? Don't remind me about the swim lessons. I signed up for more of those too. What can I say? I like torture. But I did. I signed him up. For a number of reasons. You see I'm pals with some moms of other kids in his class and they were signing their kids up (this would be their SECOND session) and I thought, well, if there are other kids in the class that he knows, maybe it won't be horrible. Maybe it will just be awful which is a big step up for us. Also, I've seen him pass a ball around with his uncle, CIF Champion 1987, and he's pretty coordinated. For a four year old. He's no Pele or Ronaldo but he's also not Brazilian, born with cleats for feet. Anyway, I figured we would try it. 

So I bought him soccer socks and shin guards and shorts but I skipped on the shoes which seemed to me like a bigger investment. The program is called Kidz Love Soccer and as a former copywriter I have to question the Z. Really? You want to make it plural with a Z? Suit yourself.

The week leading up to it I'm telling him that he's going to learn to play soccer like uncle Aaron and his friends from school are going to play too and won't that be great. And he's going along with it, probably for my benefit. The morning arrives and he wants out. Has no interest in soccer practice. He already knows how to play soccer. His uncle Aaron taught him and now he's even better than me. As if. 

Anyway, after much discussion I convince him to go except he won't wear any of the gear. Fine. Not a problem. And when we get there he starts to cry and begs me to stand with him so I stand behind him where the kids are all lined up. And his buddies are all trying to encourage him and invite him to stand next to them which he eventually does, as long as I'm behind him. Which I am. Holding my daughter. 

And so it goes for the half hour practice. At first he doesn't know what to do but by the end he is listening to the coaches and doing the drills and doesn't even notice that my daughter and I are not exactly behind him anymore. In fact we're passing a ball ourselves because my daughter is a KICKASS soccer player and has a huge future in the sport. 

After practice ended we went to Starbucks to reward ourselves with a latte/chocolate milk and a morning bun. And he asked if he could get soccer shoes. My mom then went and got him a soccer ball for graduation and everyday since that first practice he's asked to play soccer at the park across the street. And I bought him cleats. He wanted the ones with pink stripes but settled for the yellow stripes. Kidz love soccer cleats, to be sure. The jury is still out whether kidz love soccer.


Anonymous said...

dying laughing, my friend :)

i hope he continues to kind of love soccer and i can't wait for your little one to be a lessons for her from me :) per usual, you are making my day!

Susie Lubell said...

I swear she did a bicycle kick first time out on the field. Barefoot.