First day on a new job for Rosie yesterday. She's a ref for the local recreational soccer league. She reffed three games for U5 and U7 teams, so some of the kids were as young as four years old.
Rosie has a whistle and a t-shirt and a giant wrist watch/timer. She feels very special, in a helmet-wearing kind of way.
She loved the little tikes, but already got her first taste of the wrath of the Soccer Mom. There were a couple of shots on goal that the defenders were able to kick out before they crossed that invisible line that represents a score. So Rosie told them to play on, but apparently the parents were none too pleased that little Brandon's and Austin's goals weren't counted.
It was such a drastic change to watch some of the games. Were my kids ever that little? In these games, the coaches were right on the field with the kids. There were no goalies, no off-sides, no throw-ins.
The "language" I hear from my daughter's U17 teammates sounds something like this:
The "language" on these teams comes all from the coaches, and it goes:
Stand up, honey.
Go the other way!
Where's the ball?
Kick the ball.
No, the other goal.
You know when you're training a puppy, and you want it to learn to come, so you kind of run away from it just to get it to run in your direction? I saw a coach use that method with a five year old yesterday.
Rock on, Rosie!
Throw me a vote on Top Mommy Blogs? You know the drill by now. Just click the juggling chick and you've voted. You can vote every day till like, forever.