The first Sunday we arrived at the field amidst what seemed like 800 or so other families, wandering aimlessly looking for an ambiguous color "stone blue." We eventually found it, team name "Smurfs," and my conversion to soccer mom began. I wasn't convinced it would be completed. I wanted to see if we actually made it through a game.
It started off promising. Austin actually mounted the field with his team. A full head taller than any other kid out there, and armed with a shiny new Umbro ball, I thought, "yes! This might actually work!"
Mmmm, not so much. Almost instantly, we were out. Head hung low, Austin sulked off the field into the adjoining field behind us. Andy stayed on the sidelines while I stalked after Austin to cajole, threaten, and outright force him back onto the field.
He returned; this time the coach approached us and said that if Austin had a problem sharing his ball that it might be best just to keep it with us. I was floored. I am not the biggest sports fan but I like to think I am a pretty good observer of human nature. How had I totally missed that SHARING had been the problem? But it seemed to be another piece of the puzzle. I agreed, sat tight on the ball as if wishing it would hatch, and watched the "game" now in progress.
Time and again Austin completed a play, and ran screaming banshee-esqe from the field. Time and again we carted him back onto the field. I was embarrassed, exhausted, and ready to call it quits in our latest endeavor with our four-year-old, but we stuck it out.
The end of the game found Austin searching for wild clovers to pick for me in any and every surrounding field, and the coach flooring me for the second time by asking us to let him know if there was anything going on that he could help with. How could he possibly tell that from this one meeting that our son had special needs? However observant he was also humble and kind and a volunteer coaching for the first time since his own 4-year -old was on the team. I told him I appreciated the gesture.
The following week Andy and I were both otherwise committed to work functions. I asked my dad to help out by taking Austin (it was our snack week, too.) They schlepped to the game with chairs, snacks, drinks, and everything they needed loaded down and in tow. Everything, except Austin.
Austin flat out refused to go down on the field. After following the same cadence set by me the previous week, my gracious father delivered the goodies and returned to his grandson high on the embankment overlooking the field. They left.
The following two weeks we tried to attend, and either weather or circumstance prevented that from happening. I texted the coach and eventually we really did just give up. Conversion to soccer mom: pbbbt...FAIL...after only one game.
I went through much the same thing with Abigail. Though, it was HER idea to play soccer. So, I thought, OK, she's wanted to play for a year, she must mean it. WRONG! For starters, I think she just wanted to be the goalie, but she at first went with a good attitude, because it was her idea. She seemed to like the other kids and she loved her coaches. I have to say they were awesome. At first it just seemed like she was painfully shy and the way the coaches tried to draw her out and include her made me so happy. We played our first game and all was well except that the other team actually knew what they were doing and our kids didn't. So the next week at practice, the coaches got a little more aggressive. That's, I think where it all started to go wrong. Abigail does not do aggressive. She just wanted to hang on the coaches, she would get in the van all bubbly after school and when I would tell her it was time for soccer practice, she would immediately decide her stomach hurt...Eventually I talked to the coaches and we asked for her to be moved down to a team with less expeerienced players since this was her first year and that was why she said she wasn't enjoying it. "They are all better than me." We went to our first practice with the younger team. She did the warm-up exercises and then the coach had them run around the field. She didn't even complete the lap and she was complaining her legs hurt. "Let's go home." I said, because sometimes it is not worth it. We haven't tried other sports yet, but we'll see...
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