Shinybass Journal Entry 11/06/2024

 

 

U11

 

 

That will be the name of the screenplay, I think. I’m writing it here first so we can sue later when someone steals the idea. ‘U11’ is the designation for sports teams to sign up kids who are ‘under 11 years old’ on a certain date as to keep the ages and playing field level (every pun intended). 

 

Any parent that has signed up their child knows the ‘U’ designation. I’m sure they used it when I was a kid, but my baseball league had names like ‘Bronco, Pony, Palomino’ for age designations, not the penal colony-like U designation. But here we are now. U11. 

 

Henry has been playing soccer with a core group of kids since he was 5. When we cautiously parked the car for that first practice and walked to the field, nobody knew each other. We all signed up for a rec league to get our kids touching grass that wasn’t in our yard and to learn how to work as a team or something. At age 5 and 6 that concept is a little tough. We teach the kids all through early life to share your ball, play with everyone, and be nice. Then we flip the script on them and encourage them to steal the ball, only play with kids wearing your color shirt, and kick the living crap out of anyone in your way. No wonder these kids are in therapy. 

 

When we signed up for soccer, we didn’t know what we were in for at all. We were simply in ‘let’s see how it goes’ mode with Henry. I played a few seasons of soccer, maybe I was 10 or 12, but I wasn’t great. I wasn’t a big fan of the game, to be honest; clinging to fading strands of hope that my Pittsburgh Pirates would do something in my lifetime. I’m still waiting on that one. Soccer and I didn’t really mesh. So. Much. Running. So. Much. 

 

So we send Henry off to his first practice, and the first few gatherings are an uncomfortable affair, with parents on the sidelines waiting for their kids to become the next breadwinner. We also stand around and don’t talk much. ‘Which one’s yours? Where are you in school? Did you think the weather will cool anytime soon?’ Kinda basic and lame, but it’s what we do. Maegan was always good to crack the ice with parents. Moms like to talk to Moms. Dads are too cool for that mess. 

 

Eventually games happen, and you are forced to sit by another adult for 32 minutes, cheering on the same color jersey. Sometimes there is a standout on the team, sometimes not, but eventually we all start to talk and get to know the other parents. After 10 matches, it’s a crap shoot to see who will come back the next season. If you have a good vibe about the team and the child wants to come back, well, then you do it all again, only the weather is in reverse. 

 

The soccer cosmos aligned and something very special happened on our team. I know it happens with a lot of sports families, and this was no exception. We found we connected with a whole lot of amazing people that were all randomly thrown in the boiling soccer pot. We came back season after season. We started hanging at each other’s houses. We’d meet up for random events. We’d have each other’s backs if needed. 

 

Since that first season when he nervously walked on the tiny pitch, Henry hasn’t stopped. He drinks soccer, he watches soccer, he plays soccer. He collects soccer cards. He is an avid NSC fan, and having the team here in Nashville has brought so much inspiration and encouragement to Henry I can’t even put it into words. He’s met most of the team, and likes to see them in person any chance he can. Our last full family photo was take at a Nashville Soccer Club game. She was there, even in treatment because her sons walked on the pitch with the team. And through it all, the other ‘U11’ soccer families have been there. 

 

U11 2024 Spring season comes around, and Maegan has begun her chemo treatments. Even with her head wrapped and feeling like complete hell, she watched both her kids play soccer. She couldn’t lift Henry up like she used to when he had a big game, but she could still yell and embarrass him when he wasn’t hustling or yell the loudest when he scored. 

 

When she left us mid-summer, we were already signed up for fall soccer. Henry wanted to dedicate the upcoming season to Mom and I was right there with him. We needed this outlet, this random, wonderful rec league gave us something positive to look forward to every mid-week practice and every Saturday game. 

 

We started the season with a win, then we had to miss the next week’s match for her celebration in Missouri. The other coach told me the game was dedicated to Henry and wouldn’t let us lose. They didn’t. 

 

As the season progressed, the plays and the fundamentals started to click among the team, and something special happened. Yes, several of these players have been together for 9 seasons (maybe more). The new players fell right in, and everyone had role. The wins kept stacking, and before we knew it, Week 10 found us with a perfect 10-0 record. In the middle of all that, Henry kept racking up spectacular plays and goals. He is a LOT of fun to watch. 

 

He could have rolled into a ball and just quit. He didn’t. He pressed on with school; drama club, 4H president, Honor Roll. I know for a fact kids are more resilient than adults. Well, me, at least. Soccer gave me purpose as well, and those couple days of distraction became beautiful fresh air therapy. 

 

Playoff weekend arrived, and we had to play 2 matches to advance. In the first match, the opposing team had two strange bounces in the first few minutes, and were were down 2-0 fast, which was the biggest deficit we’d had all season. Our team didn’t flinch. Seconds later we scored, and then we pushed into the closing minutes with the final being 5-2. 5 unanswered is pretty strong. 

 

90 minutes later we had to do it all again for game 2. This time the game wasn’t a cakewalk, with the final being 1-0. A real soccer score. When the ref hit those three short whistle blasts to signal the end of the match, I wish i could have bottled those kid’s cheers. Pure joy pure accomplishment. No big speeches were given, just ‘hey, let’s get some rest and do it one more time tomorrow. 

 

My son wasn’t nervous. I was. I KNOW it’s just U11 crabgrass field, porta-let bring your own seat Rec soccer, but to have an undefeated season at ANYTHING is an accomplishment. I tried not to think too much about it at all. I couldn’t help but think of the disappointment of a perfect season only to be upset in the championship game (See: 2007 Patriots). I know other parents felt the same. How could you not? The kids worked pretty hard to get here, and we wanted to see it through. 

 

Game day came, and we were ready. The match was tight. It was true soccer. At the half we were up 2-0. The other team was getting a little down and Henry went over to their star player and said ‘Don’t get upset, there’s still another half to play. Anything can happen.’ 

 

In the second half, we continued to play great, and the game had the tension and intensity of any other championship game. Henry asked me later why it felt differently than other matches. I said because when it’s the last one, we tend to push ourselves a little harder than in the regular season. 

 

A player from the other team was knocked down and on the turf for a minute. Henry immediately ran over to check on him and console him, even taking few steps with him to help him off the field. I’ll take the sportsmanship over goals any day. 

 

As fate would have it, we scored a few more goals than the other team that day, capping the season with a 6-1 victory over a really good team. The soccer families cheered wildly, waving purple and pink pompoms in her honor. I was drained. I have to hold it all together, but I was so sad that she wasn’t on the sidelines to see. Of course, she has the best seats in the house. I know she didn’t miss one moment of it. 

 

I am not a sports Dad. My intensity pops up when the safety of the kids is compromised – i.e., high kicks, protect the goalie, but typically I am a good spectator. With the self-induced pressure of the championship game, I can absolutely see where parents can get fired up to the point of fisticuffs. They want their kids to be the star and come out on the winning side. 

 

I have only been a parent for 10 years, and I have some thoughts on how to do that. Spend time with your kids. Talk with them. Nurture and produce good humans. You can score 50 goals a season, but if your kid is a jerk, nobody wants him or her on the team. I have two words I use with Henry on the field : humble and hustle. The rest will take care of itself. 

 

Did she have a hand in our championship win? Was there divine intervention from the ultimate (and some would argue loudest) soccer Mom to gently roll that ball across the line? Well, Henry didn’t score, so no. I think the win came in her baby boy growing into a mature, trusted friend and teammate; the heart of a team that is comprised of amazing and unique kids who all made this happen. That’s her victory. When the soccer family wins, she wins. 

 

And the families are so important. We got lucky. We struck gold and were hit by lightning when we were randomly assigned to that U6 team all those years ago. I wouldn’t trade any of these parents. My agent said there’s also a ‘no-trade’ policy after November 1st because of some shoe contract or something, so there’s that, too…

 

So what now? Well, more soccer of course. Just like the Christmas displays coming out the day after Labor Day, we start up with indoor soccer. No rest for the parents, but that’s what we do. Plus it gives me more time in the yard with the boys, and that’s MY reward. 

 

 

Keep pushing. 

Viva Los Toros!