Picket Fence Post

The Scene: Saturday morning. It was pouring rain outside. The Spouse and I were about to drop The Girl off for her soccer game and planned on reading the newspapers while we waited in the car with The Eldest Boy and The Youngest Boy until the game started.

“Mom! The oranges! Do you have the oranges? I’m team captain this week,” The Girl blurted as we pulled up next to the curb to drop her off.

A little more than 20 minutes later, I was running out of the grocery store in a torrential downpour clutching a plastic grocery bag containing: A cheap kitchen knife, oranges and a box of Ziploc bags. (No, we didn’t have any oranges at home. Both The Spouse and I had forgotten all about the buying of the oranges thing and we were determined not to screw up on the very first game of the season by being the family that forgot the oranges.)

As The Spouse drove back to the field, I grabbed a small plastic crate that we keep in the car, covered it with the plastic grocery bag to use as a makeshift cutting station, busted open the Ziploc baggie box, pulled out a baggie and then began slicing oranges and dropping them inside.

Pulp and juice got onto everything. The dashboard. The passenger window. The seat belts. The console thingy between the driver’s and passenger’s seats. The Spouse’s eye. (Yes, we quoted the famous, “Pulp can move, baby” line from Seinfeld.) And during all of this, I had to try to ignore my pressing worry that I’d cut my fingers if The Spouse took a corner too quickly while I was slicing.

We arrived back at the field just before the game started. The Spouse pulled over to let me out next to the field and then went to park the vehicle. While under the cover of the umbrella, I darted across the soaking wet field and tossed the Ziploc bag full of oranges next to the girls’ water bottles with a chipper, “Hey, here are the oranges!”

No slackers were we.

Image credit: From this web site.

Some people think I exaggerate when I complain about a youth sports world gone bananas, and lament that some folks take grade school-aged children’s games waaaayy too seriously.

Then I read stories from the Boston Herald and Patriot Ledger about a Massachusetts youth soccer coach for a team of 6-7 year-olds who quit coaching following an uproar over his preseason letter to parents and the kids assigned to his team, named “Green Death.”

Some have defended this guy by saying that his letter was intended to be tongue-in-cheek and that those who got upset about it didn’t get his sarcasm. In his resignation letter, the coach said people “failed to see the humor” in his letter, adding, “It was meant as a satire of those who take youth sports too seriously for the wrong reasons.”

Below I’ve excerpted some portions of the coach’s original letter (original letter is on the Patriot Ledger  web site). Judge for yourselves what you think of this whole hub-bub, keeping in mind that the players about whom he’s discussing are SIX and SEVEN, and the refs he mentions that he heckles are around 12 years old:

“Green Death has had a long and colorful history and I fully expect every player and parent to be on board with the team. This is not a team, but a family (some say cult), that you belong to forever. We play fair at all times, but we play tough and physical soccer . . . We . . . prefer the gritty determination of journeymen who bring their lunch pail to work every week, chase every ball and dig in corners like a Michael Vick pit bull.

. . . Some say soccer at this age is about fun and I completely agree. However, I believe winning is fun and losing is for losers . . . While I spent a good Saturday morning listening to the [soccer league's] legal liability BS which included a 30 minute dissertation on how we need to baby the kids and especially the refs, I was disgusted. The kids will run, they will fall, get bumps, bruises and even bleed a little (but I do hope the other team is the one bleeding). If the refs can’t handle a little criticism, then they should turn in their whistle . . . My heckling of the refs is actually helping them develop as people . . . Second place trophies are nothing to be proud of as they serve only as a reminder that you missed your goal . . .

. . . [I]t is imperative that we all fight the good fight, get involved now and resist the urge to become sweat-xedo-wearing yuppies who sit on the sidelines in their LL Bean chairs sipping mocha-latte-half-caf-chinos while discussing reality TV and home decorating with other feeble-minded folks. I want to hear cheering . . .

Lastly, we are all cognizant of the soft bigotry that expects women and especially little girls to be dainty and submissive; I wholeheartedly reject such drivel. My overarching goal is [to] develop ladies who are confident and fearless, who will stand up for their beliefs and challenge the status quo. Girls who will kick ass and take names on the field, off the field and throughout their lives. I want these girls to be winners in the game of life. Who’s with me?”

It should be noted that a league official told the Boston Herald, “He chewed out a 12-year-old [ref] so bad last year she said she won’t referee anymore.”

When contacted by the Herald, the coach said, “I stand by my comments. This isn’t two hours of free babysitting.”

All I can say is that if my SIX or SEVEN-year-old girl was assigned to this “Green DEATH” team, and I had received this letter, I’d insist she be assigned to another team or else she’d sit out the season.

What say you guys? If you’re not sure, read his whole letter in context. I’d love to read your comments.

Item #1: Blaming Rihanna

This story makes me so very sad; the enthralled fans of a young male pop star, who allegedly beat up his girlfriend in February – he was charged with two felony counts for assault – believe that SHE is the guilty party. I’m speaking, of course, about the assault on singer Rihanna allegedly at the hands of her then-boyfriend, singer Chris Brown.

Today’s New York Times reported that many of Brown’s female teen fans don’t think he should be punished and, in fact, think the situation, and Rihanna’s injuries, are her fault. The paper quoted a ninth grade girl as saying: “She probably made him mad for him to react like that. You know, like, bring it on?”

The paper continued:

“In a recent survey of 200 teenagers by the Boston Public Health Commission, 46 percent said Rihanna was responsible for what happened; 52 percent said both bore responsibility, despite knowing Rihanna’s injuries required hospital treatment. On a Facebook discussion, one girl wrote, ‘She probly ran into a door and was too embarrassed so blamed it on chris.’”

Item #2: Over-Caffeinated Mom

Scene: Yesterday, at the school bus stop with The Youngest Boy (age 7).

The Youngest Boy, wildly bouncing a basketball with an insane amount of energy while chatting non-stop: You drink too much caffeine.

Me, holding a mug of hot coffee: I’ve only had [*pauses to look inside the mug*]  less than half a cup of coffee so far this morning.

The Youngest Boy: You’ve had too much from all the other stuff you’ve had on other days.

And that was BEFORE I watched the Congressional hearing on the abominable AIG bonuses and got all worked up, running around the house with a pitchfork, etc.

Item #3: Nixing Spring Soccer

During the 2007-2008 youth basketball season here in my town, The Girl, then age 9, injured her ankle and missed the second half of the hoop season, as well as a month of her once-a-week gymnastics classes.

When spring soccer 2008 began a few weeks later, The Girl started playing with promise. Then her ankle started aggravating her again, to the point where tears would come to her eyes. I had her ankle examined by doctors. She received X-rays. She had a couple of physical therapy visits. Got a brace and missed half of the spring soccer season, as well as the remainder of her gymnastics season, including the annual show for which The Spouse and I had shelled out cash for non-refundable tickets.

The Girl took the summer of 2008 “off” from organized sports. By the fall of 2008 she started playing fall soccer. In a replay of the spring debacle, she commenced the soccer season with verve but was felled again by her ankle when she began experiencing pain, despite wrapping and elevating and using an ankle brace. Saw more doctors. Got an MRI. Missed tail-end of soccer season.

The 2008-2009 basketball season started in December, but The Girl missed the first half of it, as she was still recovering. Once she got the medical clearance to resume organized sports in January, The Girl played out the rest of the hoop season.

Now she’s on the cusp of the 2009 spring soccer season. I’ve literally charted out her ankle woes on a sheet of paper, noting how many incomplete seasons she’s experienced since 2007, in an attempt to lead The Girl to the obvious conclusion that she shouldn’t play soccer this time around. I’ve told her that there are plenty of other sports or extra curricular activities she could do instead, adding that I want her to heal completely and be healthy and strong enough to play a full soccer season in the fall. “You don’t want to be the kid who everyone says plays well, but will inevitably get hurt half-way through the season, do you?” I asked.

She loves soccer and doesn’t want to let people down, like coaches or teammates She’s only 10 for God’s sake. My fingers remain crossed that she’ll voluntarily agree with my conclusion — no soccer this spring – so I won’t have to step in and issue the dictate myself. Here’s to hoping . . .

Item #1: School Celebration Overload

To celebrate Halloween with his classmates at school, my second grade son had “friendship salad,” where each member of the class was asked to contribute a piece of fruit. Members of my fourth grade daughter’s class were asked to bring in a pumpkin so students could carve them in class. My fourth grade son was asked to bring in an apple for a class project, and had a small party.

To celebrate Thanksgiving, both of my fourth graders’ classes are going to be making “friendship soup,” where each member of the class has been asked to contribute an ingredient, while parent were asked to additionally send in Crock Pots, utensils, bowls, etc. (The Girl has been asked to bring in two 48 ounce cans of chicken broth, while The Boy has been asked to bring in a can of corn niblets. That’s for a soup neither of them have said they’ll eat once it’s made.)

To celebrate “Winter” (not Christmas, not Hanukkah, not Ramadan), my fourth grade son brought home a form the other day asking each class member to bring in a new, wrapped book (no more than $5) for a book swap during the class “Winter” party. Scholastic book orders were attached to the note with the suggestion that we could easily order through them so we’d get the books in time for the party. (The note also said that requests for food and supplies for the “Winter” party will be forthcoming.) I’m certain that I’ll soon receive a similar note from The Girl.

When I received that note about the book swap – in a tough economic climate where people are worried about their jobs — I must say, I became irritated, even though my neighbor, who has a child in fifth grade, said the children have always loved the book swap event. Why couldn’t the kids pick a book they already own and wrap it up with handmade paper bag wrapping paper that they decorate themselves? It would promote recycling and still promote the joy of reading, as the note for the swap indicated was the point of the event. Maybe the kid donating the book could even write a note about why the book was entertaining.

I think what bothers me about this is that it’s coming in the middle of a crazy time of year. Taken alone, out of context, $5 for a book (plus wrapping paper) doesn’t seem like a big deal. But then I have to double the cost because I have two kids in the fourth grade. Then I factor in that the room parents for my three children’s classes will soon be asking for donations (usually $15-20) for gifts for the teachers. (We just went through this with the coaches of my kids’ sports teams where parents contributed a similar amount.) When you also consider the cost of the ingredients for friendship soups and salads, paper goods and store-bought food for a bunch of parties (due to allergies, most of the food has to be purchased so that ingredient are listed), the cost of the game we were asked to buy to contribute to a “game basket” for my second grader’s class as part of a school fundraiser, as well as the other requests that have come home from school in recent weeks and it adds up quickly.

My wish is that all of these in-school celebrations and the “gift-giving” could be made simpler, and occur less frequently. Oh, go ahead. Call me Scrooge.

Priceless Semi-Related Tangent: My preschool-aged nephew, who dressed as a skeleton for Halloween, didn’t have a Halloween party at his school. They had an ”I’m Not Scared” party instead. I kid you not.

UPDATE: My proposal to substitute used books for new books and use paperbag wrapping paper for the fourth grade book swap was shot down because, I was told, there are “reasonably priced” books in the Scholastic book order from which parents could choose. And there are “reasonably priced” books in that book order, but this is more of a principle thing at this point, trying to get away from more consumption. Parents are not ATMs.

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