It was the best of seasons; it was the worst of seasons.
Score-wise, it was the worst, because Coach was a neophyte.
It was the best of seasons; it was the worst of seasons. Score-wise, it was the worst, because Coach was a neophyte. For 10 years, as a mere parent, he had paced the sidelines, fretting about what he would do if he were coach. Last year, as unofficial second assistant under-coach, he followed orders and filled in when the real coach and both assistant coaches were working late or traveling to Singapore.
Though short on practice, he was rich in theory. He read books. He planned drills. He decided he would run a WM formation, so the girls could support each other on the attack … if only he were coach.
So tentatively, he volunteered, and was promptly handed a packet of rules and consent-to-treat forms. He called all the other 24 players, the first of many marathon phone sessions, and drove his daughter to the field, mind full of dreams and theory. The dreams smashed, the theory crashed, against the reality of 25 13-year-old girls.
They didn’t want to run. And they didn’t want to drill. But they wanted just to talk, talk, talk, talk, talk. He would explain a drill. Four girls would go do it. Ten would say, “Huh?” And the rest would talk.
It would have all been quite maddening, except for one saving grace: the girls loved soccer. They loved to scrimmage. Given a half-field, a ball, and permission, they would sort themselves into positions and play.
But no one wanted to play goalie. Coach cajoled, “Who wants to play goalie? … Don’t all volunteer at once … Are you suggesting we play without a goalie?” At last, the littlest, tiniest, skinniest child on the team raised her hand. “Thanks, Connie!”
It was no surprise that Rambunctious Red lost its first game. And its second, and its third. In fact, Red tied once and lost every other game in the season. But they never stopped trying, they never stopped playing, and they played, and lost, cheerfully, as long as they could choose their positions.
“Brandie! Go in for Erin.”
“Erin’s playing midfielder. I don’t want to play midfielder.”
Alexandria, who had the best hands on the team, refused to play goalie. Samantha refused to play center fullback. So did Monica, until the game started. Then she paced up and down with coach, and finally burst out, “Put me in, coach! I’ll play center!”
When Kaitlin twisted her knee, she lay moaning and writhing on the sidelines for five minutes, then limped over to coach. “Put me in, coach!”
“Kaitlin, how are you going to play mid? You can’t even walk.”
“I can walk. Watch!”
“That’s called hobbling, Kaitlin.”
As the good weather and our bad season drew to a close, we learned that Orchard Valley had no tournament planned for under-14 girls. We parents were secretly relieved. Then North Valley YSL announced a tournament. Our girls wanted to go. Not because they were under any illusions that we might place, but merely because it was a chance to play the game they loved three more times.
In a pouring rainstorm, on a muddy field, Red won its first victory, 2-0. We lost our second tournament game, cheerfully. And the third was postponed for hazardous, slick fields.
Mysterious are the ways of soccer scores: due to a fluke, Red qualified for the championship game, against the rough, tough Los Gatos Strikers. Though only fielding 10 players, Red scored: Brandie Rodriguez broke through the fullback line with a couple of well-executed deceptive moves, and made a clean pass to Christine Camacho, who made a strong, hard goal into the net from left field.
Goalie Audra Robinson made 13 saves in the course of the game, often flinging herself on the ball midst flying Striker feet in her own inimitable Turtle Save, forming a small, jersey-colored lump slightly larger than the ball.
The Strikers were handed two goals through Red blunders. So Rambunctious Red lost, cheerfully, 1-2, and placed second in Santa Clara Valley, for the love of the game.
“It’s good to have my time back,” says my husband, ex-Coach Stuart Allen. “But I’m glad I did it. I really liked feeling like part of the team.”
Friday.
