Soccer..or not

Hey frands,

Hadley here.

So my friend and I coach youth soccer together. We haven’t actually played soccer since we were about 8, so obviously we are the best coaches around. The team is a co-ed team of 11 six year olds. There are three girls who always decide that it’s a great idea to hug me and touch me. They are six. I don’t know where those hands have been, they’re probably so dirty. I can’t yell at them to get off me because well… they’re six anddd their parents watch the entire practice. So I put on a smile and pretend I love it so much. Then of course, there’s the runner. He runs into the woods whenever I turn my back. One practice I found him in a thorn bush and I had to talk him off the ledge. Apparently he wanted to play “fissies and sarks” and we weren’t going to play that today, so he threw a hissie fit. Then there is the boy that’s actually amazing at soccer, so everyone wants to be on his team when we scrimmage at the end of practice. One kid started to hysterically cry when I told him he couldn’t be on the same team as Cam. As he was bawling his eyes out, I got really mad, but I remember he’s only six...so he got his way...again. Every Thursday, soccer practice is the longest hour of my life.

Although they annoy me, I really love coaching them. I received an email from one of the parents that saddened me. One of the boys on my team recently fell, and had to go to the hospital and get 40 stitches. Four Zero. In his head. And he’s six. And now, of course, he can’t play soccer. As if the forty stitches isn’t enough, he has to come to the games and watch his twin brother play, while he sits on the sideline and watches. The poor little kid is going to have to watch.

See ya,

Hadley