Take a break from the marital tension and walk over to the high school fields tonight to see our U-11s and U-12s practicing. Always good to see what other coaches are doing. Never know where you can pick up something useful. Not this evening though. A depressing scene. Coaches all over the pitches are dropping F-bombs left and right. It’s F-this, F-that, and F-the other thing. I’m shocked but can’t say I’m surprised. This is the way travel soccer has been going in recent years. Everybody wants it to be fun now.
The worst cameo of all involves the U-11 boys. At the end of a practice in which they bizarrely never stopped using a soccer ball, their coach gathers them into a huddle. All players place their right hands on the top of the coach’s four year old son’s head (obviously some sort of mascot), and then they drop the loudest, longest F-bomb of all. ‘F-U-N spells FUN!’ they chant in unison. I blush for them, for their coach and for their parents. This is what we’ve been reduced to.
Back at home I log onto the league website and see that the U-11 boys are bottom of their division, no points and no goals from three games. Somebody should tell them there’s no fun in that.
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