Like most right-thinking coaches of younger kids, I always put the largest, widest boy in goal. It’s not just common sense. It’s basic physics. He’s the one that will fill up the most space possible between the posts. That it also spares him the embarrassment of laboring after smaller, more diet-conscious opponents outfield merely adds to the wisdom of this selection policy. Imagine my dismay then when a parent waltzes up to me tonight and asks for his son to get a turn in goal.
'He really wants to try out for goalie,’ says the father.
'Okay, okay, that can be arranged,' I say, putting on my best, eyebrows-crunched, sincere face despite the fact the kid is a complete bantamweight utterly unsuited for the role.
Ten minutes later, the boy in question is standing on the goal line getting ready for a test of his nerve. Every one of his team-mates is on the edge of the penalty box with a ball in front of them. On my order, they all shoot simultaneously. Some of them score but enough of them hit our wannabe goalie in places he’d rather not have been hit to prove my point. He strolls out of goal and hands me the gloves.
'I don’t want to play goalie, anymore,' he says.
'I think you should go and explain that to your father,' I say.
Another teachable moment.
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