Matching Tracksuits

soccer

Soccer Sunday

Sunday 28 April 2019

This afternoon we had the annual kids/parents soccer game to wrap up another season of soccer.

“Are you going to play?” the Boy asked.

“Of course!” Though “playing” might be somewhat hyperbolic. I have no skills to speak of, and I have no fitness to make up for it either. But I did play at the game.

I learned two things: first, I’m terribly out of shape. Since K has been staying with Nana and Papa to take care of them (alternating weeks since February, then about four or five weeks ago, every week), I don’t get out to exercise that much. I use the excuse of not wanting to leave the kids in the house alone, but that’s really just an excuse, I think.

The second was something that followed off of the first: when you’re in such bad shape and have no skills, if you’re playing kids, you can pass it off by playing like all the other parents did when we were up X-0 (can’t remember the actual score): just letting the kids win…

Afterward, off to Nana’s and Papa’s for dinner. There won’t be too many more times that we do that, though. The addition is nearing completion. “Two more weeks,” we say, but we’ve been saying that for a month already. But still, we only have a few more times.

The fenced-in drainage basin mystery at the top of the hill

After dinner, we had a little boys’ time, as E called it. We decided to do our normal exploring around the drainage basin at the northeastern corner of Nana’s and Papa’s development’s property. It was a little overgrown as spring takes hold, but nothing like I was expecting. Perhaps the last time we go there? Who knows.

Last Saturday Soccer

Saturday 27 April 2019

A brilliant morning — sunlight everywhere.

Last soccer game of the year. The Boy was excited about it — not because he was excited to play, but because he was excited to be done.

“Do I have to go?” has become something of a refrain before soccer practice and before games.

“You committed to it,” I always explain, “so you’re going to see it through to the end. We keep our word; we finish what we start.”

When I watch his play, I understand why he’s not crazy about soccer: he’s among the youngest in his age group, and he’s lacking some of the confidence that other players on his team have. He prefers playing defense for this reason: all he has to do is stop someone, which means just kicking the ball away from them (in his mind). That’s easier than attacking, when two or three are on you trying to get the ball from you — not to mention your team mates who, despite calls from the coach to realize that they’re “same team!” and instructions to “spread out,” are swarming all around you as well.

So after today, a break. Until L’s volleyball season starts up again…

Saturday Growth

Saturday 16 March 2019

The day began with a bit of unusual work: pulling old wiring out of the attic. At first, the plan was just to remove them from the area over the old carport. But when in the afternoon I began the second part of today’s tasks — adding insulation to the lower part of the house — I realized I could pull almost all the wiring out — just about the whole length of the house. It was a relic from the past: old 10-gauge wiring used for long-removed baseboard heaters.

We took a break around lunchtime for E’s first game of the season. Emil had his first break of the spring season in the second quarter. (Youth soccer is divided into quarters.) He beat the last defender, sent his shot past the goalie toward the far corner, and would have made a goal but for a few inches.

Afterward, it was back into the attic for me. In the end, I put in several bags of insulation and took out one full contractor back of wiring.

Saturday

Saturday 16 February 2019

The Boy and I began the day early for a Saturday. My alarm went off at 6:15 but I snoozed it until 6:30 — that was really the plan when I went to bed last night, I must admit — and we both go up and had breakfast and cartoons (Tom and Jerry) before heading off to Clemson University for the annual Clemson Day for South Carolina Scouts.

It’s supposed to be in the main stadium, which makes it a great draw for everyone, but this year, with the weather questionable, it took place in the football team’s indoor practice area. (You know a football program is bringing in a lot of money for the university when they have a couple of outdoor practice facilities and an indoor one to boot.) Clemson football, soccer, volleyball, and track athletes ran the kids through drills and games for three hours, with each rotation ending with an autograph session.

“Parents, please remember that the autograph time is only for the kids,” the announcer reminded everyone several times.

As I suspected, the Boy was not keen on participating at the beginning. He’d been excited about going when I first mentioned it many weeks ago, but the excitement had waned as the day itself approached, and he suggested that he might just stay with me on the sideline and watch.

I tied gently encouraging him, but he wouldn’t budge. Finally, I went nuclear: “Buddy, I didn’t get up at 6:15 on a Saturday to sit with you on the sidelines.” Once he got out there, he was fine.

In the afternoon, a little exploring.

Last Game and Pinewood Derby

Saturday 26 January 2019

The Boy played his last game of his first basketball season today. He didn’t make a basket, though he took a shot. He had a couple of turnovers. At one point, he was defending his assigned player even though his team was on offense. All signs of a new player still finding his way in a game that he really doesn’t fully understand. But he played with such heart. He did everything his coach told him (coaches at this level are allowed on the court, as soccer coaches at that age group are allowed on the field), and oblivious to the above facts, he enjoyed it, which is what counts most.

“I know what I’m saving up for,” he declared earlier this week. “A basketball goal for our house.” The only problem: we don’t really have a place to put a goal. But our neighbor has a small court set up on his driveway — we’ll have to find the time to go there more often, K and I decided.

In the early evening, we went for the Boy’s second pinewood derby. We’d been working on the car this week, and the Boy went into it with a lot of confidence. At the very least, he was sure, we would have the best-looking car. He’d decided on a humvee, which made for easy painting and it looked pretty good when it was all said and done: I did the cutting and some of the sanding; he did the painting and some of the sanding.

When the racing started, his car finished consistently in fourth place out of the six cars racing. That meant he wasn’t the fastest but wasn’t the slowest either. A more competitive spirit would equate those terms with “best” and “worst,” but I try not to look at it that way because I’m only somewhat competitive.

Sometimes I wonder, or rather fear, that his lack of competitiveness comes from a lack of confidence, that he feels he has no chance of winning anyway and so why not cut one’s losses and not appear to be terribly worried about the results of inherently competitive events. That’s how I was, I think, when I was a child and teen. It wasn’t that I worried about losing; I just didn’t want to get embarrassed, to get beaten into the ground, so to speak. In gym class during high school, when we had basketball, I was reticent to participate because I was never all that good. I even refused to dress out some days, making the excuse that because I was on the swim team and got plenty of exercise that way, I really didn’t even need the activity. Swimming was different, though, because I had success in the pool and felt more confident there.

Is that compensation or something more concerning? I don’t really know, and I’m honestly not terribly worried about it. I think in the end, all of us with a little competitive spirit in us do that.

Monday Evening Walk

Monday 29 October 2018

Our schedule has calmed down significantly: no longer do we have something each and every evening. Soccer — done. Volleyball — done. We’ve decided, as a result of having so much free time (relatively speaking), to make Monday evenings (and possibly Tuesday nights, but not this week — that frantic pace has ripples that spill over to this week) family walk evenings. So today, after dinner, we took the dog and headed to Conestee Park, our favorite local park.

E and I rode our bikes there yesterday, almost achieving our goal of riding on every bit of trail and/or road (a total of 10.2 km), and we discovered a couple of new trails that we thought we’d introduce the girls to.

The kids took turns with the dog, each handling her for a quarter of a mile (thanks, Fitbit).

And we got a chance to get a family portrait, albeit divided into two stages: the Boy wanted the camera and decided we didn’t have enough pictures of me, so he made me pose.

Finally, he wanted one of K and me. “You need to stand there and kiss.”

Last Games of the Season

Saturday 20 October 2018

The Boy had his final soccer game of the season. It was bitter-sweet: his team finished undefeated, but it was the last season they will train under Coach Kevin, who accepted a position coaching a high school girls’ team.

The Girl’s team got what it dished out the other everning — a 3-0 defeat. She was upset about it, but only until we got home.

First Game Fall 2018

Saturday 8 September 2018

The day started with the first game of the season, in a new age group, the six- to seven-year-old age group, which made the Boy one of the younger players on the field. It showed, but only a little bit. The star of our team, a young man named S, was seven years old and had some definite ball handling skills. He could weave in and out of defenders like a pro, and he must have had five or six shots on goal, making two of them. The Boy, by contrast, attacked best when he had a bit of room to work with. Charging through the opponents was still a bit beyond him, but I could see he was watching S, probably planning his own implementation of such a strategy.

In the afternoon, a little creek play with the first radio controlled car the Boy ever got.

Working Monday

Monday 25 June 2018

The Boy and I spent the day working, working like I never really do during the school year. Actual work. Sweaty work. Blister-biting work. Aching working. A friend — who helped us remodel our kitchen two years, without whom we would have been completely and totally lost — is making an addition to his house. Like our house, it’s brick veneer, and he won’t be able to match the brick perfectly with what’s available now, so we’re taking down the veneer from one end of the house.

We came home sweaty and tired yet satisfied.

And what did we do afterward, after a shower and lunch and a bit of relaxing? We went back outside to play soccer for almost an hour and get sweaty again.

We took on roles — E is Ronaldo while I’m Lewandowski — and played a game that must have been some kind of record as far as scoring goes: 18-14. I scored two goals accidentally: I blocked his attempts to kick the ball by me and surge to the net and the ball rolled into his net.

We were going to head out after dinner to finish the game, but a storm rolled in, so we sat and cheered K on as she made the latest batch of pickles.

Tomorrow, we do it all again — probably even the pickles, considering the amount of cucumbers we have.

Heading Home

Sunday 24 June 2018

After two consecutive losses that left them at the bottom of their four-team World Cup group, the Polish team is heading home after their third and final game later this week. Even if they win against Japan, they won’t have enough points to move on to the next round of sixteen teams.

But we didn’t know that when a group of Poles and sympathizers gathered to watch Poland play Columbia this afternoon.

There was optimism from the beginning, but I told K on the way there, “You know Columbia is going to win, right?”

Why? Poland had played so pathetically against Senegal that I felt they were broken psychologically. Senegal was supposed to be the push-over team in their group. They were supposed to be the ones everyone trampled on like they’re a bunch of amateurs. And then on Tuesday, the Poles scored an own-goal and let the Senegalese take an embarrassingly easy second goal due entirely to a ridiculous error from the Polish goalie to end 2-1.

I had that feeling, and truth be told, K did too. Everyone in the room except for the three Columbians in the room probably had that feeling as well. Of course, they might well have felt that way, too.

All the Poles sang “Mazurek Dąbrowskiego,” the Polish national anthem.

Poland has not yet perished,
So long as we still live.
What the foreign force has taken from us,
We shall with sabre retrieve.
March, march, Dąbrowski,
From the Italian land to Poland.
Under your command
We shall rejoin the nation.
We’ll cross the Vistula, we’ll cross the Warta,
We shall be Polish.
Bonaparte has given us the example
Of how we should prevail.

The Columbians sang their national anthem:

Oh, unwithering glory!
Oh, immortal jubilance!
In furrows of pain,
goodness now germinates.

The dreadful night has ceased.
Sublime Liberty
beams forth the dawn
of her invincible light.
All of humanity
that groans within its chains,
understands the words
of He who died on the cross.

In both cases, I think they only got through about two verses: the anthem at the stadium was instrumental and short.

The good mood among the Poles didn’t last long. Just before the end of the first half, Yerry Mina scored for Columbia. Of course, there was still hope. Among Poles, there’s always hope. But it was waning: a tie would not do. Only a victory could save the Polish national team. Yet halfway through the second half, at the 70-minute mark, Radamel Falcao scored a second goal for Columba. And as if to rub a little dirt in the Poles’ faces, Juan Cuadrado scored again five minutes later.

And it was all over.

“I don’t see what the big deal is,” a friend said. “They’ll be another World Cup, another chance.” True enough.

Summer Saturday

Saturday 16 June 2018

The day started with a frenzy of activity for the Boy and me. First, there was soccer clinic, which is an addition to the spring soccer season that he just finished. The coach suggested that E has a certain awareness of what’s going on during a game that might benefit from additional practice and coaching. For the Boy’s part, he always explained it thus: “I just run around the outside until I see my moment, then I go!”

Taken and edited in-phone, hence the lack of quality

Afterward, we headed to our favorite local park for a summer scouting event. A bit of kickball kicked everything off and showed me that the Boy has little to no understanding of kickball/baseball. He didn’t know when to run to the next base when he was on (every kid got to kick every inning, no matter the outs), and he had no idea what to do while in the field.

How did I learn baseball? I don’t know that, at age six, I would have done much better. So many sports just seem absorbed with one’s culture.

After lunch, we went on a short hike, and this was where the Boy was in his element. We’ve hiked and ridden all the trails at Conestee Park seemingly countless times.

The Boy explained this, the Boy explained that. He told about walking Clover here. He explained which portions were particularly challenging on a bike.

When we got home, it was time for a rest. A summer thunderstorm landed on us, and we all marveled at the amount of water that can fall in such a short time — so much that our overflow for our rain barrel become completely overwhelmed.

After dinner? A return to Conestee with the Boy for a bike ride.

Sports and Ice Cream

Saturday 19 May 2018

The Girl had her first volleyball game today. It was as one might expect when the majority of the girls playing haven’t had much experience on the court. Most volleys were one of three types:

  1. A serve that doesn’t make it over the net or lands outside.
  2. A serve that plops in front of a player who, through a lack of experience and a bit of accompanying fear, made a slight effort to go for it.
  3. A serve that is returned and then plops in front of a player on the serving team, through a lack of experience and a bit of accompanying fear, made a slight effort to go for it.

Not a lot of action. But a lot of excitement: the girls were all thrilled when they managed to make a serve (which actually happened quite frequently); they were shouting encouragement and joy when they managed to return a serve; they encouraged each other when someone messed up.

It was a beautiful thing to watch.

While the Girl was playing, the Boy was having soccer practice on the other half of the court due to the unpredictability of the weather this week. He finished his hour-long practice drench in sweat and as eager as ever to play more soccer.

It was a beautiful thing to see.

The afternoon brought the Boy’s birthday party. We had an old-school, kids playing in the yard party. There were water balloons, brownies, sprinker antics, chips, volleyball over the sprinker, soda, soccer in the sprinker’s mist, ice cream cake, trampoline flights, pizza, and endless laughs.

It was a beautiful day to experience.

End of Spring 2018 Soccer

Saturday 5 May 2018

The Boy finished his second season of soccer. It was a successful season, no doubt. Talking to the coach during Monday’s practice, I heard the kind of praise about one’s child that parents dream of. “He’s really got something,” he said. “He plays thoughtfully. He watches. He thinks. He doesn’t just barge in. He waits for a moment.” This jives with E’s own description of his strategy: “I just run around the edge [of the pack of children all trying to gain access to the ball] and wait for a good moment.”

(Click on the images for a larger view.)

After the game, spring planting. The Girl decided she wanted to help. Wanted to drive the stakes that will hold our simple borders in place. Wanted to rake the soil one last time. Wanted to put the young plants in the ground.

(Click on the images for a larger view.)

The Boy, just having woken up from a nap, had to fight for his right to drive a few stakes in…

Soccer and the New Garden

Saturday 28 April 2018

Every kid needs a break-out game, a moment when he shines like a professional player who hits the grand slam in the bottom of the ninth to overcome a three-run deficit or scores the winning goal in overtime. E had his today. The first half was relatively calm. No score, no real threats. The big scorer from a couple of weeks ago couldn’t work his magic, and although E’s team kept the ball in the opponent’s half of the field most of the time, they’d been unable to convert anything to a goal.

In the beginning of the third quarter (little kids’ soccer is divided into quarters, not halves), E broke out of the pack of kids that always hovers around the ball, drove down half the field, and scored. All the parents were cheering for him as he broke through, and I sat thinking, “Please, let him make this. It could change everything.” It wasn’t that I was thinking about winning the game. I just knew that such a spectacular play could really boost his confidence. Shortly after that, he did it again. High fives from everyone. A big smile from the Boy.

During the fourth quarter, the Boy initially sat. He was not at all upset about it: he was panting, sweaty, and positively glowing. A few minutes into the quarter, though, one of the boys on E’s team wandered off the field and decided he didn’t want to play anymore.

“E!” the coach called out. We found him practicing in the area by the field and sent him back in. “Come on, superstar,” said our tough-love coach.

The fourth quarter saw a turnaround. Twice a player from the other team broke through; twice the Boy chased the opponent down and got in front of him/her to try to stop the goal; twice the opponent scored on the Boy. He’d been trying each time to get far enough ahead of the attacker to turn and defend like a goalie (we don’t play with goalies at this level), and there was just not enough time for him to make the transition.

So instead of winning 2-0 it was a 2-2 tie. Perhaps that’s better. The Boy was still the star and everyone went home happy.

No pictures, though, because I left the camera at home. “Ah, we have tons of pictures from this year,” I mumbled as we walked out.

The rest of the day we spent at home. Tilling, raking, spreading manure, peat moss, and compost, tilling again. It was an exhausting but rewarding day.

Birthday Party

Saturday 21 April 2018

It started with that warm sunlight that is a sure harbinger of warmer weather. The young leaves diffuse the light, making everything glow. It’s something I’ve tried to capture several times but have never really managed.

Perhaps I just haven’t tried hard enough — maybe I do that purposely to leave the mystery in place.

Soccer today was camera-less. I’ve taken probably a thousand pictures this season — what could happen today that hasn’t already happened this year? I cheered like a normal parent, sitting at the sidelines, not so worried about getting the shot as simply living in the moment. It made me think that I should leave it at home more often.

Today’s game was a loss — number two for the year. It wasn’t a horrible score: 3-1. Last week we were on the other end of a complete overwhelming of the other team. It was something like eight or nine to zero. For the entire second half, I was hoping the other team would score something. So perhaps it was a sort of mild karma today. Over-winning is not a good thing, and I was actually pleased to see them lose.

While E was learning how to lose, K was cooking and baking, preparing for Papa’s birthday party. On the way to Nana’s and Papa’s, K related an amusing story about E. He’s been struggling with tying his shoes. When it came time for new shoes, he’d insisted on Under Armor shoes because Nikes are no longer fashionable. However, this meant laces. He’s been trying to master the art of tying his shoes, but it’s been slow going. The other day in car line, though, a little girl asked him to tie her shoes, and since then, he’s been tying his own.

At Nana’s and Papa’s, we knew the aunties were waiting — a surprise for Papa.

Back home after the celebration, we planted more, weeded more, pruned more — squeezed a bit of a typical spring Saturday.

Soccer Spring 2018 Game 4

Saturday 24 March 2018

Last week was tough for the Boy: a loss after winning the first two games is tough, but a 4-0 loss stings just a little more. It feels like you didn’t just lose but got crushed. The Boy took it in stride, but he was obviously thinking about it all week for as we got his shin guards and shoes on this morning, he confided that it angered him and that he was determined to do better this week.

We arrived for the half-hour practice that precedes every game, and everything was going as it always does: the Boy did everything the coach said, and I chatted with another parent. I still hadn’t gotten the camera out when the game started and the opposing team began. A quick kick into our half of the field, and in a flash, the Boy had possession of the ball, charged through the defense, found himself completely unopposed, and streaked down the field to score.

In the third quarter — at this age, they divide the halves in two — he struck again.

This time I was ready.