Shark Attack

I remember my first soccer team. I was 8, we had grey and black uniforms, and our team name was the Knights (no doubt the boys on the team picked that name). Our first practice was in an overgrown grass field way out in the country behind an elementary school I think. I got my first real crush that season of soccer, too. His name was Jay and he was at the top of all the 9 year-olds in my mind. I've used several of my early soccer days to help me cope as a coach with my current U-10 soccer team. We're named the Sharks, but to everyone else I call them the misfit toys. We only have 11 players because 3 of them quit before the season even started and only 6 of them showed up for the team picture. We had our first game last night and everything I ever taught them about passing, dribbling, spreading out, and the overall point of soccer went right out the window. But after our 4-2 loss in the season opener, 8 year-old Dylan said "It's not about winning, it's about having fun." 8 year-old Dylan has a heck of a lot more wisdom than the 8 year-old version of myself. But it's true, I don't remember how many games I lost or won or tied in all of my years playing soccer. I do remember being so nervously excited every saturday and how the snack after the game made up for everything. These are good memories and reminders when my competetiveness kicks in (pun) and I want to yell at the 14 year-old referees for not calling fouls. Because on the bright side, even as a coach, the parents still offer me a snack after the game. Go Sharks!