I'm hoping to avoid going to youth sports ball games till like, at least, age 9 or 10.
On slow strategy brand
Aside from youth soccer, which is chindisputably trash, never got the hate for youth sports. Other than the driving, I love it.
CSB Tim again: Soccer season is in full swing, and my 8 year old daughter's team is twash as fuck. It's been this way for years, so I'm accustomed to watching them get worked like a Hopkins zone. Head coach is a college buddy of mine, but he's out of town, so a couple of dads are filling in. First game of the season I've gotten to watch, and I promised I'd be on my best behavior.
Five minutes into the game, the other (much better) team's goalie does something for the third of fourth time, so I'm sensing a pattern of behavior: She picks up the ball after one of my daughter's team's "shots," runs to the front of the penalty box, sets the ball on the ground, then stands there for 20 seconds surveying the scene in front of her to decide who she wants to kick it to. First time, I figured it was a fluke. Second time, I still can't believe it and miss my chance. Third time? It's. On. I'm screaming at the top of my lungs, "GO GET THE BAAAAAAAAALL! GET IT! GET IT! GET IIIIIIIIT! YES, YOU, THE ONE LOOKING AT ME LIKE I'M INSANE: KICK THAT BALL INTO THE GOAL RIGHT NOW!"
This wasn't working, so I appealed to my daughter directly (still yelling like an idiot): "[DAUGHTER], GO KICK THAT BALL! YEAH! GO KICK IT! DON'T LOOK AT ME LIKE THAT, JUST GO KICK IT! NOOOOOOW!"
It's about this time the goalie finally picks her target and dribbles one almost most of the way there. I'm thinking, "Well, it was good while it lasted. She knows I'm onto her now. Won't make that mistake again."
Noooooope. Next time she had her hands on the ball, she does the same stupid shit. And I yelled like a mental patient again. The whole time, I'm thinking, "Jesus, people, clearly I'm not the only one who's seeing this! I mean, is everyone else here blind!?"
Finally, my daughter subs out. I give her the ol' "get the hell over here" gesture, and I explain to her that if the goalie is stupid enough to set the ball on the ground while surrounded by opposing players, it's her duty to teach this girl a lesson. Take the ball from her and kick it into the goal. My daughter doesn't believe me. I insist that it's legal. She says the ref will surely call a foul. I tell her he surely won't, and she'll score the easiest goal of her life. My daughter returns to the group on the sideline and starts spreading the word like it's the end of Independence Day.
The score is 1-1, and my daughter and three other girls sub back into the game. About a minute later, the opposing goalie's brain malfunctions again, and she sets the ball down in play and stares down the field for 20 seconds. I lose my mind and vocal chords again. The girls are still hesitant. One of our temporary coaches finally walks over to me and interrupts my volume-eleven World's Worst Sports Dad entry to ask the question, "You're telling me that's a live ball?"
"I'm telling you exactly that."
Another couple of minutes go by, another opportunity for the goalie to practice her ritual. Now there are three grown men on the sidelines screaming at the top of their lungs at a bunch of eight year old girls: "GO GET THAT BAAAAALL! KICK IT! GET IT! TAKE THAT BALL AND SHOOT IIIIIIT!"
Finally, one of the girls bravely steps forward, pokes the ball to the side, shoots it five feet into the wide open net.
It takes until .81 seconds after the ball crosses the goal line before my conscience makes an appearance in this story. I immediately feel like the biggest asshole to ever ruin a rec soccer game. I'm wondering why no sane adult on our sideline told me to calm down and let eight-year-olds play some shitty soccer in peace. The ref picks up the ball and starts walking back to the center of the field. The opposing goalie looks totally confused and crushed. The opposing coach sprints to the ref, and all we can see is this impassioned debate between the two of them. The body language seemed to imply, "You seriously aren't going to count that goal, are you!?"
I'm hoping she wins the argument. Surely the goalie had learned her lesson. Nope. The goal counts. Opposing coach storms off the field.
I'm hoping to avoid going to youth sports ball games till like, at least, age 9 or 10.
On slow strategy brand
Aside from youth soccer, which is chindisputably trash, never got the hate for youth sports. Other than the driving, I love it.
CSB Tim again: Soccer season is in full swing, and my 8 year old daughter's team is twash as fuck. It's been this way for years, so I'm accustomed to watching them get worked like a Hopkins zone. Head coach is a college buddy of mine, but he's out of town, so a couple of dads are filling in. First game of the season I've gotten to watch, and I promised I'd be on my best behavior.
Five minutes into the game, the other (much better) team's goalie does something for the third of fourth time, so I'm sensing a pattern of behavior: She picks up the ball after one of my daughter's team's "shots," runs to the front of the penalty box, sets the ball on the ground, then stands there for 20 seconds surveying the scene in front of her to decide who she wants to kick it to. First time, I figured it was a fluke. Second time, I still can't believe it and miss my chance. Third time? It's. On. I'm screaming at the top of my lungs, "GO GET THE BAAAAAAAAALL! GET IT! GET IT! GET IIIIIIIIT! YES, YOU, THE ONE LOOKING AT ME LIKE I'M INSANE: KICK THAT BALL INTO THE GOAL RIGHT NOW!"
This wasn't working, so I appealed to my daughter directly (still yelling like an idiot): "[DAUGHTER], GO KICK THAT BALL! YEAH! GO KICK IT! DON'T LOOK AT ME LIKE THAT, JUST GO KICK IT! NOOOOOOW!"
It's about this time the goalie finally picks her target and dribbles one almost most of the way there. I'm thinking, "Well, it was good while it lasted. She knows I'm onto her now. Won't make that mistake again."
Noooooope. Next time she had her hands on the ball, she does the same stupid shit. And I yelled like a mental patient again. The whole time, I'm thinking, "Jesus, people, clearly I'm not the only one who's seeing this! I mean, is everyone else here blind!?"
Finally, my daughter subs out. I give her the ol' "get the hell over here" gesture, and I explain to her that if the goalie is stupid enough to set the ball on the ground while surrounded by opposing players, it's her duty to teach this girl a lesson. Take the ball from her and kick it into the goal. My daughter doesn't believe me. I insist that it's legal. She says the ref will surely call a foul. I tell her he surely won't, and she'll score the easiest goal of her life. My daughter returns to the group on the sideline and starts spreading the word like it's the end of Independence Day.
The score is 1-1, and my daughter and three other girls sub back into the game. About a minute later, the opposing goalie's brain malfunctions again, and she sets the ball down in play and stares down the field for 20 seconds. I lose my mind and vocal chords again. The girls are still hesitant. One of our temporary coaches finally walks over to me and interrupts my volume-eleven World's Worst Sports Dad entry to ask the question, "You're telling me that's a live ball?"
"I'm telling you exactly that."
Another couple of minutes go by, another opportunity for the goalie to practice her ritual. Now there are three grown men on the sidelines screaming at the top of their lungs at a bunch of eight year old girls: "GO GET THAT BAAAAALL! KICK IT! GET IT! TAKE THAT BALL AND SHOOT IIIIIIT!"
Finally, one of the girls bravely steps forward, pokes the ball to the side, shoots it five feet into the wide open net.
It takes until .81 seconds after the ball crosses the goal line before my conscience makes an appearance in this story. I immediately feel like the biggest asshole to ever ruin a rec soccer game. I'm wondering why no sane adult on our sideline told me to calm down and let eight-year-olds play some shitty soccer in peace. The ref picks up the ball and starts walking back to the center of the field. The opposing goalie looks totally confused and crushed. The opposing coach sprints to the ref, and all we can see is this impassioned debate between the two of them. The body language seemed to imply, "You seriously aren't going to count that goal, are you!?"
I'm hoping she wins the argument. Surely the goalie had learned her lesson. Nope. The goal counts. Opposing coach storms off the field.
I'm hoping to avoid going to youth sports ball games till like, at least, age 9 or 10.
On slow strategy brand
Aside from youth soccer, which is chindisputably trash, never got the hate for youth sports. Other than the driving, I love it.
CSB Tim again: Soccer season is in full swing, and my 8 year old daughter's team is twash as fuck. It's been this way for years, so I'm accustomed to watching them get worked like a Hopkins zone. Head coach is a college buddy of mine, but he's out of town, so a couple of dads are filling in. First game of the season I've gotten to watch, and I promised I'd be on my best behavior.
Five minutes into the game, the other (much better) team's goalie does something for the third of fourth time, so I'm sensing a pattern of behavior: She picks up the ball after one of my daughter's team's "shots," runs to the front of the penalty box, sets the ball on the ground, then stands there for 20 seconds surveying the scene in front of her to decide who she wants to kick it to. First time, I figured it was a fluke. Second time, I still can't believe it and miss my chance. Third time? It's. On. I'm screaming at the top of my lungs, "GO GET THE BAAAAAAAAALL! GET IT! GET IT! GET IIIIIIIIT! YES, YOU, THE ONE LOOKING AT ME LIKE I'M INSANE: KICK THAT BALL INTO THE GOAL RIGHT NOW!"
This wasn't working, so I appealed to my daughter directly (still yelling like an idiot): "[DAUGHTER], GO KICK THAT BALL! YEAH! GO KICK IT! DON'T LOOK AT ME LIKE THAT, JUST GO KICK IT! NOOOOOOW!"
It's about this time the goalie finally picks her target and dribbles one almost most of the way there. I'm thinking, "Well, it was good while it lasted. She knows I'm onto her now. Won't make that mistake again."
Noooooope. Next time she had her hands on the ball, she does the same stupid shit. And I yelled like a mental patient again. The whole time, I'm thinking, "Jesus, people, clearly I'm not the only one who's seeing this! I mean, is everyone else here blind!?"
Finally, my daughter subs out. I give her the ol' "get the hell over here" gesture, and I explain to her that if the goalie is stupid enough to set the ball on the ground while surrounded by opposing players, it's her duty to teach this girl a lesson. Take the ball from her and kick it into the goal. My daughter doesn't believe me. I insist that it's legal. She says the ref will surely call a foul. I tell her he surely won't, and she'll score the easiest goal of her life. My daughter returns to the group on the sideline and starts spreading the word like it's the end of Independence Day.
The score is 1-1, and my daughter and three other girls sub back into the game. About a minute later, the opposing goalie's brain malfunctions again, and she sets the ball down in play and stares down the field for 20 seconds. I lose my mind and vocal chords again. The girls are still hesitant. One of our temporary coaches finally walks over to me and interrupts my volume-eleven World's Worst Sports Dad entry to ask the question, "You're telling me that's a live ball?"
"I'm telling you exactly that."
Another couple of minutes go by, another opportunity for the goalie to practice her ritual. Now there are three grown men on the sidelines screaming at the top of their lungs at a bunch of eight year old girls: "GO GET THAT BAAAAALL! KICK IT! GET IT! TAKE THAT BALL AND SHOOT IIIIIIT!"
Finally, one of the girls bravely steps forward, pokes the ball to the side, shoots it five feet into the wide open net.
It takes until .81 seconds after the ball crosses the goal line before my conscience makes an appearance in this story. I immediately feel like the biggest asshole to ever ruin a rec soccer game. I'm wondering why no sane adult on our sideline told me to calm down and let eight-year-olds play some shitty soccer in peace. The ref picks up the ball and starts walking back to the center of the field. The opposing goalie looks totally confused and crushed. The opposing coach sprints to the ref, and all we can see is this impassioned debate between the two of them. The body language seemed to imply, "You seriously aren't going to count that goal, are you!?"
I'm hoping she wins the argument. Surely the goalie had learned her lesson. Nope. The goal counts. Opposing coach storms off the field.
Whatever. A win is a win.
Don’t feel bad. It sounds like that goalie has horrible parents. I would never let my kids do something so stupid if they played goalie.
They don't keep score here until 7 years old so next year. I always keep score unofficially of course and tell my kid if they won or lost but I'll be damned if I'm showing up to a t ball game my kid isn't playing.
They don't keep score here until 7 years old so next year. I always keep score unofficially of course and tell my kid if they won or lost but I'll be damned if I'm showing up to a t ball game my kid isn't playing.
They don't keep score here until 7 years old so next year. I always keep score unofficially of course and tell my kid if they won or lost but I'll be damned if I'm showing up to a t ball game my kid isn't playing.
They don't keep score here until 7 years old so next year. I always keep score unofficially of course and tell my kid if they won or lost but I'll be damned if I'm showing up to a t ball game my kid isn't playing.
They don't keep score here until 7 years old so next year. I always keep score unofficially of course and tell my kid if they won or lost but I'll be damned if I'm showing up to a t ball game my kid isn't playing.
T ball isn't for sermon seekers.
Just what I'm hearing.
I umped it years ago - next town over pays umps even for 3-4 yo t ball. You literally do nothing other than place the ball on the T and collect a paycheck. It's where all the umps start out at, if you can survive the monotony they think you may have a chance to stick. I made it one year.
Then I coached it when my son was 4. That's enough t ball for me. I'll go if my kid is playing but otherwise no mas por favor.
They don't keep score here until 7 years old so next year. I always keep score unofficially of course and tell my kid if they won or lost but I'll be damned if I'm showing up to a t ball game my kid isn't playing.
T ball isn't for sermon seekers.
Just what I'm hearing.
I umped it years ago - next town over pays umps even for 3-4 yo t ball. You literally do nothing other than place the ball on the T and collect a paycheck. It's where all the umps start out at, if you can survive the monotony they think you may have a chance to stick. I made it one year.
Then I coached it when my son was 4. That's enough t ball for me. I'll go if my kid is playing but otherwise no mas por favor.
Only a pedophile would go to tee ball games that their child or relative wasn’t playing in.
I'm hoping to avoid going to youth sports ball games till like, at least, age 9 or 10.
On slow strategy brand
Aside from youth soccer, which is chindisputably trash, never got the hate for youth sports. Other than the driving, I love it.
CSB Tim again: Soccer season is in full swing, and my 8 year old daughter's team is twash as fuck. It's been this way for years, so I'm accustomed to watching them get worked like a Hopkins zone. Head coach is a college buddy of mine, but he's out of town, so a couple of dads are filling in. First game of the season I've gotten to watch, and I promised I'd be on my best behavior.
Five minutes into the game, the other (much better) team's goalie does something for the third of fourth time, so I'm sensing a pattern of behavior: She picks up the ball after one of my daughter's team's "shots," runs to the front of the penalty box, sets the ball on the ground, then stands there for 20 seconds surveying the scene in front of her to decide who she wants to kick it to. First time, I figured it was a fluke. Second time, I still can't believe it and miss my chance. Third time? It's. On. I'm screaming at the top of my lungs, "GO GET THE BAAAAAAAAALL! GET IT! GET IT! GET IIIIIIIIT! YES, YOU, THE ONE LOOKING AT ME LIKE I'M INSANE: KICK THAT BALL INTO THE GOAL RIGHT NOW!"
This wasn't working, so I appealed to my daughter directly (still yelling like an idiot): "[DAUGHTER], GO KICK THAT BALL! YEAH! GO KICK IT! DON'T LOOK AT ME LIKE THAT, JUST GO KICK IT! NOOOOOOW!"
It's about this time the goalie finally picks her target and dribbles one almost most of the way there. I'm thinking, "Well, it was good while it lasted. She knows I'm onto her now. Won't make that mistake again."
Noooooope. Next time she had her hands on the ball, she does the same stupid shit. And I yelled like a mental patient again. The whole time, I'm thinking, "Jesus, people, clearly I'm not the only one who's seeing this! I mean, is everyone else here blind!?"
Finally, my daughter subs out. I give her the ol' "get the hell over here" gesture, and I explain to her that if the goalie is stupid enough to set the ball on the ground while surrounded by opposing players, it's her duty to teach this girl a lesson. Take the ball from her and kick it into the goal. My daughter doesn't believe me. I insist that it's legal. She says the ref will surely call a foul. I tell her he surely won't, and she'll score the easiest goal of her life. My daughter returns to the group on the sideline and starts spreading the word like it's the end of Independence Day.
The score is 1-1, and my daughter and three other girls sub back into the game. About a minute later, the opposing goalie's brain malfunctions again, and she sets the ball down in play and stares down the field for 20 seconds. I lose my mind and vocal chords again. The girls are still hesitant. One of our temporary coaches finally walks over to me and interrupts my volume-eleven World's Worst Sports Dad entry to ask the question, "You're telling me that's a live ball?"
"I'm telling you exactly that."
Another couple of minutes go by, another opportunity for the goalie to practice her ritual. Now there are three grown men on the sidelines screaming at the top of their lungs at a bunch of eight year old girls: "GO GET THAT BAAAAALL! KICK IT! GET IT! TAKE THAT BALL AND SHOOT IIIIIIT!"
Finally, one of the girls bravely steps forward, pokes the ball to the side, shoots it five feet into the wide open net.
It takes until .81 seconds after the ball crosses the goal line before my conscience makes an appearance in this story. I immediately feel like the biggest asshole to ever ruin a rec soccer game. I'm wondering why no sane adult on our sideline told me to calm down and let eight-year-olds play some shitty soccer in peace. The ref picks up the ball and starts walking back to the center of the field. The opposing goalie looks totally confused and crushed. The opposing coach sprints to the ref, and all we can see is this impassioned debate between the two of them. The body language seemed to imply, "You seriously aren't going to count that goal, are you!?"
I'm hoping she wins the argument. Surely the goalie had learned her lesson. Nope. The goal counts. Opposing coach storms off the field.
Whatever. A win is a win.
Beautiful prose, riveting suspense to the very end. And hats off to the ref for adhering to the rules of the game.
I'm hoping to avoid going to youth sports ball games till like, at least, age 9 or 10.
On slow strategy brand
Aside from youth soccer, which is chindisputably trash, never got the hate for youth sports. Other than the driving, I love it.
CSB Tim again: Soccer season is in full swing, and my 8 year old daughter's team is twash as fuck. It's been this way for years, so I'm accustomed to watching them get worked like a Hopkins zone. Head coach is a college buddy of mine, but he's out of town, so a couple of dads are filling in. First game of the season I've gotten to watch, and I promised I'd be on my best behavior.
Five minutes into the game, the other (much better) team's goalie does something for the third of fourth time, so I'm sensing a pattern of behavior: She picks up the ball after one of my daughter's team's "shots," runs to the front of the penalty box, sets the ball on the ground, then stands there for 20 seconds surveying the scene in front of her to decide who she wants to kick it to. First time, I figured it was a fluke. Second time, I still can't believe it and miss my chance. Third time? It's. On. I'm screaming at the top of my lungs, "GO GET THE BAAAAAAAAALL! GET IT! GET IT! GET IIIIIIIIT! YES, YOU, THE ONE LOOKING AT ME LIKE I'M INSANE: KICK THAT BALL INTO THE GOAL RIGHT NOW!"
This wasn't working, so I appealed to my daughter directly (still yelling like an idiot): "[DAUGHTER], GO KICK THAT BALL! YEAH! GO KICK IT! DON'T LOOK AT ME LIKE THAT, JUST GO KICK IT! NOOOOOOW!"
It's about this time the goalie finally picks her target and dribbles one almost most of the way there. I'm thinking, "Well, it was good while it lasted. She knows I'm onto her now. Won't make that mistake again."
Noooooope. Next time she had her hands on the ball, she does the same stupid shit. And I yelled like a mental patient again. The whole time, I'm thinking, "Jesus, people, clearly I'm not the only one who's seeing this! I mean, is everyone else here blind!?"
Finally, my daughter subs out. I give her the ol' "get the hell over here" gesture, and I explain to her that if the goalie is stupid enough to set the ball on the ground while surrounded by opposing players, it's her duty to teach this girl a lesson. Take the ball from her and kick it into the goal. My daughter doesn't believe me. I insist that it's legal. She says the ref will surely call a foul. I tell her he surely won't, and she'll score the easiest goal of her life. My daughter returns to the group on the sideline and starts spreading the word like it's the end of Independence Day.
The score is 1-1, and my daughter and three other girls sub back into the game. About a minute later, the opposing goalie's brain malfunctions again, and she sets the ball down in play and stares down the field for 20 seconds. I lose my mind and vocal chords again. The girls are still hesitant. One of our temporary coaches finally walks over to me and interrupts my volume-eleven World's Worst Sports Dad entry to ask the question, "You're telling me that's a live ball?"
"I'm telling you exactly that."
Another couple of minutes go by, another opportunity for the goalie to practice her ritual. Now there are three grown men on the sidelines screaming at the top of their lungs at a bunch of eight year old girls: "GO GET THAT BAAAAALL! KICK IT! GET IT! TAKE THAT BALL AND SHOOT IIIIIIT!"
Finally, one of the girls bravely steps forward, pokes the ball to the side, shoots it five feet into the wide open net.
It takes until .81 seconds after the ball crosses the goal line before my conscience makes an appearance in this story. I immediately feel like the biggest asshole to ever ruin a rec soccer game. I'm wondering why no sane adult on our sideline told me to calm down and let eight-year-olds play some shitty soccer in peace. The ref picks up the ball and starts walking back to the center of the field. The opposing goalie looks totally confused and crushed. The opposing coach sprints to the ref, and all we can see is this impassioned debate between the two of them. The body language seemed to imply, "You seriously aren't going to count that goal, are you!?"
I'm hoping she wins the argument. Surely the goalie had learned her lesson. Nope. The goal counts. Opposing coach storms off the field.
Whatever. A win is a win.
Beautiful prose, riveting suspense to the very end. And hats off to the ref for adhering to the rules of the game.
They don't keep score here until 7 years old so next year. I always keep score unofficially of course and tell my kid if they won or lost but I'll be damned if I'm showing up to a t ball game my kid isn't playing.
T ball isn't for sermon seekers.
Just what I'm hearing.
I umped it years ago - next town over pays umps even for 3-4 yo t ball. You literally do nothing other than place the ball on the T and collect a paycheck. It's where all the umps start out at, if you can survive the monotony they think you may have a chance to stick. I made it one year.
Then I coached it when my son was 4. That's enough t ball for me. I'll go if my kid is playing but otherwise no mas por favor.
Only a pedophile would go to tee ball games that their child or relative wasn’t playing in.
I'm hoping to avoid going to youth sports ball games till like, at least, age 9 or 10.
On slow strategy brand
Aside from youth soccer, which is chindisputably trash, never got the hate for youth sports. Other than the driving, I love it.
You’ve never coached apparently.
The hate would consume you. Fuck parents.
You have no idea. I've done pretty much all of it. But, wasn't talking about the parents part, which can be twash as fudck but also made a lot of friends there too. I was talking about just the kids playing
We had junior high sports and I started playing organized football and basketball in 7th grade. Before that time my dad would not let me play little league baseball. He didn't like it and quite honestly I didn't miss it. His thought was that kids should just go out and play and that we did. I never warmed up to organized sports. Hated officials and coaches. Loved pick up basketball.
My son went out for 8th grade basketball at South Shore and there were like 20 kids. I volunteered to coach a team so we could split it up. I got the 10 worst players but we had fun. I was a roll the ball out kind of coach. During games I was Bobby Knight on the refs. Not my finest hour
We had junior high sports and I started playing organized football and basketball in 7th grade. Before that time my dad would not let me play little league baseball. He didn't like it and quite honestly I didn't miss it. His thought was that kids should just go out and play and that we did. I never warmed up to organized sports. Hated officials and coaches. Loved pick up basketball.
My son went out for 8th grade basketball at South Shore and there were like 20 kids. I volunteered to coach a team so we could split it up. I got the 10 worst players but we had fun. I was a roll the ball out kind of coach. During games I was Bobby Knight on the refs. Not my finest hour
Comments
Five minutes into the game, the other (much better) team's goalie does something for the third of fourth time, so I'm sensing a pattern of behavior: She picks up the ball after one of my daughter's team's "shots," runs to the front of the penalty box, sets the ball on the ground, then stands there for 20 seconds surveying the scene in front of her to decide who she wants to kick it to. First time, I figured it was a fluke. Second time, I still can't believe it and miss my chance. Third time? It's. On. I'm screaming at the top of my lungs, "GO GET THE BAAAAAAAAALL! GET IT! GET IT! GET IIIIIIIIT! YES, YOU, THE ONE LOOKING AT ME LIKE I'M INSANE: KICK THAT BALL INTO THE GOAL RIGHT NOW!"
This wasn't working, so I appealed to my daughter directly (still yelling like an idiot): "[DAUGHTER], GO KICK THAT BALL! YEAH! GO KICK IT! DON'T LOOK AT ME LIKE THAT, JUST GO KICK IT! NOOOOOOW!"
It's about this time the goalie finally picks her target and dribbles one almost most of the way there. I'm thinking, "Well, it was good while it lasted. She knows I'm onto her now. Won't make that mistake again."
Noooooope. Next time she had her hands on the ball, she does the same stupid shit. And I yelled like a mental patient again. The whole time, I'm thinking, "Jesus, people, clearly I'm not the only one who's seeing this! I mean, is everyone else here blind!?"
Finally, my daughter subs out. I give her the ol' "get the hell over here" gesture, and I explain to her that if the goalie is stupid enough to set the ball on the ground while surrounded by opposing players, it's her duty to teach this girl a lesson. Take the ball from her and kick it into the goal. My daughter doesn't believe me. I insist that it's legal. She says the ref will surely call a foul. I tell her he surely won't, and she'll score the easiest goal of her life. My daughter returns to the group on the sideline and starts spreading the word like it's the end of Independence Day.
The score is 1-1, and my daughter and three other girls sub back into the game. About a minute later, the opposing goalie's brain malfunctions again, and she sets the ball down in play and stares down the field for 20 seconds. I lose my mind and vocal chords again. The girls are still hesitant. One of our temporary coaches finally walks over to me and interrupts my volume-eleven World's Worst Sports Dad entry to ask the question, "You're telling me that's a live ball?"
"I'm telling you exactly that."
Another couple of minutes go by, another opportunity for the goalie to practice her ritual. Now there are three grown men on the sidelines screaming at the top of their lungs at a bunch of eight year old girls: "GO GET THAT BAAAAALL! KICK IT! GET IT! TAKE THAT BALL AND SHOOT IIIIIIT!"
Finally, one of the girls bravely steps forward, pokes the ball to the side, shoots it five feet into the wide open net.
It takes until .81 seconds after the ball crosses the goal line before my conscience makes an appearance in this story. I immediately feel like the biggest asshole to ever ruin a rec soccer game. I'm wondering why no sane adult on our sideline told me to calm down and let eight-year-olds play some shitty soccer in peace. The ref picks up the ball and starts walking back to the center of the field. The opposing goalie looks totally confused and crushed. The opposing coach sprints to the ref, and all we can see is this impassioned debate between the two of them. The body language seemed to imply, "You seriously aren't going to count that goal, are you!?"
I'm hoping she wins the argument. Surely the goalie had learned her lesson. Nope. The goal counts. Opposing coach storms off the field.
Whatever. A win is a win.
Did the CUBS wiin, or nah?
They don't keep score here until 7 years old so next year. I always keep score unofficially of course and tell my kid if they won or lost but I'll be damned if I'm showing up to a t ball game my kid isn't playing.
and the CSA too.
The hate would consume you. Fuck parents.
Just what I'm hearing.
Then I coached it when my son was 4. That's enough t ball for me. I'll go if my kid is playing but otherwise no mas por favor.
T Ball Stockers
My son went out for 8th grade basketball at South Shore and there were like 20 kids. I volunteered to coach a team so we could split it up. I got the 10 worst players but we had fun. I was a roll the ball out kind of coach. During games I was Bobby Knight on the refs. Not my finest hour