Soccer Mom V. Pit Bull

Soccer was the sport that made me love sports. I was a decent player and the physics and geometry of the game were all I really ever mastered of math. I was good at seeing the game from above so to speak and while I never had finesse or skill or speed of any kind, I could make the ball go to the right place at the right time almost every time. I could set up plays, what with my loud mouth and my perch at center half-back.

(I once scored a goal from 50 yards out, but that was a fluke of the highest order and would never happen again. Also, I was at my prime then, 14, and soon would earn a spot on the state team. Injuries on that team and through high school plus a growing obsession with records would initiate a slow slide downward. I did not play in college. I watched one practice my first week there; division one is scarrrrry. And large.)

Still, I think all those statistics about girls and sports were true for me. The discipline of the sport, the camaraderie, the physical commitment: they were all things that helped to define me, but mostly they gave me a healthy respect for earned achievement -- so I busted my butt off the field too. My girls play soccer for two reasons: the aforementioned and also, because I kinda I wish I was still playing soccer myself.

So, I coach. I am one of three women head coaches in a 12 team girls' league. This means nothing, but I mention it, because well, maybe it means something to me. I've coached some of these girls for years. Two of them showed up at the game today with a poster for the team just like the one I had made for the first team we were on together. If not for the pre-game adrenaline, I might have cried.

The assistant coach, who has been with me twice, is a dad of two soccer playing kids who splits the practices: running between helping our team and his son's team all at the same time. Not sure if awards are made for that, but they should be and he should be given one. And also, he's a man, with loads of soccer knowledge, but I am the coach. He makes sure everyone knows that, especially when the other coaches approach HIM to shake hands before the game. He deserves a different award for that.

We won our first game, in the rain, with one sub, 6-1. I got in trouble: I should have stopped the scoring. I knew that. I couldn't: we were up 3-1 after the first half and scored three lucky goals in 8 minutes at the beginning of the second half. I used our one sub to spread the "hold back" message. There was no gloating from our team at the end. These girls were proud but they were sportswomen. If not for the post-game adrenaline, I might have cried.

We lost today 4-0. Three goals were scored against us in the second half. Even though those kids played like aces and essentially, we dominated, sometimes its boils down to luck. You win, you lose. That's how it works. Everyone left smiling. I took the poster home for safekeeping.

(Enter: bitch. SELF-EDIT HERE*. Exit: Bitch.)

I'll spend 5 days out of the next seven looking for socks and shin pads for practices and clinics, which will make me utterly crazy and also utterly happy all at the same time because I figure if my love of the sport matters, it might matter to them too. Also, I will be practicing my subtle *stick-foot-out-one-way-and-look-the-other-way trip maneuver for next week's game, should I need it.

So anyhow, soccer matters to me. The "soccer mom" thing? It means something different to me too. Also, I know for sure that there are no differences between hockey moms and soccer moms.

But do you know the difference between a soccer mom and a pit bull?

Brains.

Just saying.