News . . . at last

Well, I have news. It's old news, but news nonetheless. My book is going to be published. YES! After 7 years of writing it, it is going to happen . . . Harper bailed and Viking stepped in. But as the old cliche goes, there's a silver lining . . . and it's true. My book is going to be the lead title on one of Viking's lists (can't say which or my secret identity will be null and void). Another satisfying fact is that my advance is over THREE TIMES what Harper offered 7 years ago -- and this isn't simply a matter of inflation (though, now that it's occurring to me . . . it could be -- and now I'm depressed. Great). Plus Viking is buying the rights to my first book, so that will be reissued with hopefully a v. cool cover (not too hard to beat Harper's.). My new editor is very cool and works w/ some very well-known YA authors! Can't say who because I may blow my cover. But she really totally "gets" what I did w/ my book (finger's crossed), which is so refreshing. So, I'm working on the revisions. Hence why it's v. v. v. late and I'm writing here and now. After months of silence.

Soccer is soccer is soccer. But since this blog is obstensibly to annotate the doings along the sidelines, here I must plunge into it. My oldest got an offer to play at the Air Force Academy next year. My son (number 4 of my 5) has an amazing new coach, a stud who once was an MLS Goalkeeper and an asst. coach to the U.S. Women's National Team. Great guy. And lots of fun (the boys love him). And I have to admit, kinda -- okay VERY -- on the cute side. And exactly 6 weeks younger than I am, so my little crush isn't too weird. (An aside, he and I and a bunch of soccer parents had a blast recently at Vail imbibing liquid courage at a bar in Vail. I suggested that we go around and reveal our most embarrassing moments, they made me go first and then . . . nobody would tell theirs! Yes, mine were (yep, that was plural) admittedly hard to top, but COME ON! (and I only told 3). I mean, the coach for one was in the MLS. You're telling me he couldn't conjure up some good stories? On the positive side, my stock as a storyteller extraordinaire skyrocketed.)

Let's see, what else? Well, got some new soccer mom friends. A real interesting collection these days. My 7 yr old's soccer is getting intense -- imagine that! -- and one of the moms is an ex-Mormon, yoga teaching, pot smoking, hiker, who wants her husband to get her a girl this year for her birthday. Not a baby girl child kind of thing, but to have some fun (if ya know what I mean) with a girl (woman). Um, yuck. And she buys pot from the 15 yr. old neighbor kid at the end of her cul-de-sac and every Friday starts drinking heavily around 3 PM so she's totally smashed by 8 PM. Um, yeah. Not a real good influence, but I think I can handle it. Despite all this, she is a lot of fun and v. interesting and good for a laugh. And isn't laughing some of the best meds? Another soccer mom pal is a runner like me (we were supposed to run together at 3 vs. 3 Regionals in Vail, but somehow we couldn't get it together and ran alone. I think we both were afraid that the other would kick our butt!), who is a mom of 4 (tho hers are much younger than mine), who stays-at-home and who is an aspiring writer and a lover of books. What else could you want? We're starting a book club w/ some of the soccer moms on that particular team. Then an old soccer friend whom I've recently reconnected w/ is spinning tales of adultery and love affairs. Hmmmm, not sure I'm buying her brand of fiction. It is a sick world these days.

On the more neg side of things, I've discovered some gray hairs creeping in. When I can't stand them anymore, I get out my eyebrow tweezers and pull those intruders out! Very dumb, because I often pull out the nice healthy dark hairs at a ratio of about 5 good ones to 1 gray one. I'll be bald before I know it.

They say the 40's are the new 30's. Wishful thinking.

Still Alive

But not all that excited about this blog. Obviously.

I went through an entire soccer season w/out one post? Tons of drama occured, but it's pretty hard to articulate any of it in a meaningful way. After the fall season, none of my kids were cut, got injured, or insisted on quitting, so that's a positive.

Right now, the indoor season is in full throttle. One of my kids, the 12 yr old, has had a couple of weeks where she was either playing some indoor game (within one of the many indoor leagues she participates in) or attending a practice every day of the week except Sunday. Then the Christmas holidays arrived -- thank God! -- and I was knocked back into reality, and we put on the brakes. My daughter was getting a little burned out, but I was fried. This is the off-season, supposedly.

See, this is boring, all this soccer stuff.

So, on to more interesting stuff. . . .

I finally finished my work-in-progress that's been in the works for 6 plus years. Novel #2. My publisher sneakily called my agent and told her that they are thinking of terminating my contract because I hadn't delivered a manuscript after all that time. Now, this is def soccer related because the primo reason why my book was tossed on the backburner for so long is precisely due to my soccer mom habit. How can I write for 4 hours/day when I'm spending at least that much time driving my kids to soccer practices? Come on! I've got priorities!

Also, in my defense (not a lot of cause for that, I know, but I'm still going to give it a go), my editor hadn't given me a deadline. I had asked her for one a couple of times, but she just didn't. "No worries!" she said. "Just get it to me when you want. I understand that you're busy with five kids and a husband in Iraq (that excuse only involved one of the 6 years of negligence on my part)!" HOWEVER, I do well with deadlines! I understand them. If I know that Kid #1 has to be at Field A at Coach-Specified-Time, I bust my butt to make it happen.

So, I got my deadline, finally. On December 12th, my agent told me that I had to turn in my completed manuscript by Jan 15th. Very considerate timing! So, yes, despite the holidays, the Christmas shopping, the wrapping of presents for five kids plus, the baking of cookies, the making of Christmas dinner, the drama w/ in-laws, the contending w/ bronchitis and one kid w/ walking pneumonia, I made my deadline. I stayed up until 2-4 AM for two weeks, pounding away at my laptop. So, don't know how it's been received, but at least I did my part.

Also, I got a puppy 2 days after Thanksgiving, and I'm allergic to puppies. So that chaos was dumped into the mix. But that will be the subject for a different post. I'm sure I can find a way to make it fit the theme of my blog -- where soccer touches life. Like last wknd, when the puppy tagged along to a soccer practice in 30 degree temps . . .

~Hasta.

I need a vacation

Two plus months have gone by. Summer vacation. It's supposed to be break time from soccer. So why am I hammering daily down C-470 en route to some soccer field in the off-season? Why do I fill up my Suburban 3 times a week still? Simple: soccer season is never truly over.

But I'm bored w/ writing about soccer. Really. I think that's why I've been absent from this blog for so long. I just can't conjure up the enthusiasm to write about it day after day. Nothing changes much -- I spend hours driving to fields where one (or if I'm really lucky, multiple) of my kids is kicking a ball around w/ other kids. I sit there w/ adults I only know in the context of soccer. We discuss the safe parts of our lives. And then we all get back in ours cars and drive home, usually to bowls of cereal for dinner because too much time was spent on the road and at the field to actually prepare the evening meal.

This summer, 4 of my 5 kids were involved in the Kick It 3 vs. 3 soccer tournaments in the Denver area. That was insane. 99 degree heat w/ back to back games from 8 AM to 5 PM. Those wknds I think I saw between 15 and 20 games each day over the 2 days. I'd run between the fields to get to games on time -- that was my exercise. That and tightening the kegels because I didn't want to brave the porta potties. I'd mooch other teammates parents' shade (because other people with only 1 kid to watch actually came prepared w/ sunshades or tents or at the very least umbrellas to protect against the ghastly Colorado sun). I'd sneak bottled water out of other teammates parents' coolers. I'd snack on their pretzels and granola bars. I'd borrow tubes of sunscreen so that I wouldn't age too much over that particular weekend, but burned anyway.

In other segments of my life: my wacko mom and her twin sister came for a couple week visit from Chicagoland. They are both planning on moving to the Denver area since my grandpa recently died (April 26th) and they've both just retired and have no ties anymore to Illinois. Drama and trauma galore ensued. And my house that's to be remodeled (in phases -- too expensive otherwise). Phase 1 was supposed to be started end of June. After some zoning dispute and a hearing to decide upon it and waiting for the decision to come down, construction will finally start -- hopefully -- in mid-August. Just in time for school to start! And my second kid going to be starting high school. Wonderful timing! She'll be sleeping on the floor of my room for 12 weeks . . .

Okay, more at a later date. It's after midnight, and I will be a roaring monster if I don't get my beauty sleep.

Playing Time (or lack thereof): Excuses Coaches Make

These excuses are universal. As long as there's competitve soccer and kids, these excuses will prevail. No matter the age of the kids. No matter how "competitive" the league is. What really matters is how "competitive" the coach is.

"I'm not putting you in because [insert player's name who shares your child's position] is in the swing of the game."

"You're not being dangerous enough."

"You're being too dangerous."

"You missed practice this week."

"I didn't realize that you only played __ minutes. I thought that you played over half the game."

"I'm getting pressure to win from the club."

"You're just coming off an injury, and I don't want to risk injuring you again."

"Your side-to-side agility needs work."

"Your speed of play isn't fast enough."

"I was planning on putting you in the entire game next week."

"Can I really trust that you'll do with the ball what I need for you to do with the ball?"

"Playing time is determined by my individual relationship with each player [and I don't like you, so don't count on playing much]."


The injury and missing practice excuses do not apply equally to every player. The "core" players miss practice and still start the game when the weekend comes.
A "core" player can be out of commission for weeks with an injury -- an MCL strain or a concussion -- and step right back into his/her position the day he/she returns to practice. A "non core" player can come back from a mild injury -- a twisted ankle or an asthma issue requiring a quick puff of an inhaler -- and the coach worries protectively that throwing him/her into a game may be too deterimental to the player's well-being.

Four coaches and a Team of 13 boys

This is a team of 8 year old boys who are playing "up" an age group. So, the majority of the opposing teams are comprised of 9 yr. old boys. Except for the 2 other U-8 boys teams, who are doing the same thing.

The purpose for playing "up" is to challenge the boys. After all, this group of 8 yr. old boys is destined for soccer greatness, didn't you know? Perhaps they'll become the core of the "A" (otherwise known as the top team) team of the club, the promise of college scholarships in the future. The parents are also destined for soccer greatness themselves, vicariously, through the feats of their sons.

Now for the four soccer coaches. This is an oddity, even in my vast experience sitting the sidelines, being the seasoned soccer mom that I am.

Coach #1. The Head Coach speaks in a very authoritative Irish brogue. This gives him the necessary air of a veteran soccer man, a man who studies the game. A man who's supposedly played semi-pro soccer in his youth on the island across the immense Atlantic. A man not to be trifled with, parents, or I'll take my son, his ball, and build a new 8 v. 8 team, and you'll keep your mouth shut and like it if you know what's good for you, thank you very much.

Coach #2. The Latin influence. This coach wants to emphasize the fluidity of the game, its improvisational qualities, its creativity. The boys will learn that soccer is like jazz under this coach. Too bad he is only available 1 practice out of 4 and rarely attends the games. He's silent on the sideline that's reserved for the coaches only; his style is to just observe the boys demonstrating their brilliant creativity.

Coach #3. The pompous wannabe. Coach 1 and 2 have something to offer, admittedly. Coach #3, not so much. He's played soccer for a short time in a rec. men's league, so now he's an expert. He wears is dark sports sunglasses, his black soccer warm-ups, playing the part perfectly.

Coach #4. The wise fool. Like #3, he is a recent convert to playing the game. He is also the loudest, most critical of the coaches, esp. toward his own son. Head Coach defines this as "exuberant. He brings passion for the game to the boys." Part of this "exuberance" is habitually contradicting Head Coach's instructions from the sidelines, his booming voice drowning out all others -- parents and coaches combined, leaving the boys in a state of confusion. He infuriates the opposition's parents when he volunteers to ref the sidelines yet continues his "exuberant" style of coaching with the flag (representing impartiality and soccer justice) in his hand. He enjoys slipping on his soccer "boots" and kicking around with the boys at practice. To him, practice is an opportunity for him to compete. He blasts the ball at adult strength, wins tackles with adult (albeit middle-aged adult) speed and agility. He yells instructions like, "Switch it!" without the boys' comprehension.

Head Coach can only attend one practice per week -- Thursdays -- and even then he must leave 10 min. early to coach his older competitive boys team. Coach #2 rarely contributes at practices as already stated, thus, Coach 3 and 4 -- the ones with minimal knowledge -- are the stalwart rocks upon which the boys can depend and flourish. Coaches 3 and 4 secretly wish they could organize a coup and take over the team, you can see it in their eyes, their manner of posturing.

Now for the 13 boys part of this post. The max on a 8 v. 8 roster is 12 according to youth rec. soccer policy. But our team has 13. That means at any given game, 5 little boys will be sitting the bench at any given time. Rec. soccer also has a pesky little policy that each boy must play at least half a game (25 min.). This is necessary for proper development. You can practice all you want, but the game is when you put everything you've learned into practice. And it's what the boys practice for -- to play! Another aspect of soccer development is to play in a variety of positions, so each kid truly can understand what the game is about and prepare them to become flexible players, something Top Team coaches down the road covet when building their competive teams. Managing these 2 issues -- playing time and rotating positions -- is a challenging task for any coach to master.

So, okay. This is where the 4 coaches come in, right? This is the benefit the boys will gain with all that combined wisdom over there on the sideline.

WRONG! Not one of these 4 coaches is tasked with keeping his eye on the watch. They all want to be Head Coach, after all, and each of their input is indispensable. They are all united in the desire to win at all costs. So, who they deem to be the core players play nearly the entire game (luckily, my son is one of these). And so the same unlucky boys habitually play less than 10 min. each (a clear violation of rec. policy). At least as many play maybe a max of 20 min.

Why am I concerned about this? I mean, my son plays the entire game, after all. I should be pleased. Unfortunately, I know that coaches are fickle creatures and most want to win at all costs. Today my son may be playing the entire game. Next month, he may be sitting the game out, grabbing handfuls of grass and cramming it down the backs of his teammates shorts, upturning his water bottle over his fellow bench warmers' heads. Today my son may be earning comments like "Great tackle, Andrew! Well done! Great ball!" Next month he may receiving comments like, "Sit down and shut up! Pay attention to the game, and maybe you'll learn something." OR "Um, I don't think I'll put you in second half. The game's too close."

Next month I may be starting my watch at the ref's whistle, keeping stats in my head of how long my son actually stayed in the game this week, comparing it to previous weeks. Comparing my son's playing time to his teammates'. Allowing the envy and bitterness to seep in.

I've been there too many times, and it's not a great place to be.

It's been awhile (a LONG while)

Like 6 months since I've returned to this blog. In fact, I went through an entire winter of indoor soccer w/ 4 out of 5 kids (the 5th is only 6 yrs. old, and her team wasn't interested in tackling indoor soccer this year). Also in fact, I have no idea what my password is, but somehow I'm typing away, so I guess I figured it out.

I am now at the tail end of the Spring season. My sophomore high school student (female) has just finished her season already. They lost 1-8 in a state playoff game -- that just tells you what kind of season they had. My 4 other kids have only a week to go before the summer tournament insanity starts. And other separate insanity, which I'll scribe about in a different post.

I'm just too wiped today to really make this lengthy. My husband was gone on US Army reserve duty (taking an Army JAG course to become a military judge) for 3 weeks, and tomorrow he comes home. Today, Sat., I left the house at 7:45 for a 9 AM game (early because of the mandatory 45 min. prior warm-up). I returned only briefly (for 7 min.) to pick up my 14 yr. old for her game on the other ends of the earth (Aurora, CO), and then finally returned for good at 6:30 after picking up 2 kids whom I dumped on 2 teammates families and stopping at Sam's Club so we'd all have something to fill our stomachs with tonight.

It's good to be back. I'll write more tomorrow.

Hint for tomorrow's post: what does a soccer mom do when her 8 yr. old son joins a more competitive team that's playing "up" a year, the team has 4 (yes, 4) MALE soccer coaches who shriek from the sidelines differing instructions, fight w/ the opposing team's coaches, and play some (about a fourth of the roster, actually) of the little boys less than 10 minutes a game while they play some of the other boys (my son included, fortunately. or is it unfortunately?) the entire game?

First Post

I spend most days down at the field, watching my 5 kids on their various teams practice. Practice. Practice.

I spend a lot of that time watching -- my kids practicing, my non-practicing kids at the moment fighting (mostly), the wack job parents critiquing the practice, their kids practicing, or the other kids practicing with their kids.

All this time watching can be entertaining. In a sick, twisted sort of way. It can also be very sad. You see a lot of life on those sidelines. You see kids crumble, parent-child relationships deteriorate, expectations (often much too lofty) shatter. You see happy kids out there kicking a ball, and unsatisfied adults who wish they could be kicking that ball for their kids. After all, they know better. Maybe not the technique of kicking the ball exactly, or putting it to space, or performing that perfect first touch and playing it fast, but the more important knowledge -- how to be the best.

You wouldn't believe the politics and scheming that goes on within the conversations on those sidelines. You wouldn't believe the jockeying for position in which those parents participate. That is, unless you have a competitive soccer player yourself.