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So She Wants to Play Soccer

© Jody Hart Lehrer

Just across the way from her pre-school, there's a sprawling soccer field. Usually, when I pick her up at the end of the day, the place is full of little kids, older ones, parents, even a few dogs. All part of the booming soccer phenomenon. Dogs included (of course, they have to be yuppy dogs like well-groomed Golden Retrievers or Jack Russell Terriers).

So, the bug has inevitably bitten my little girl. I always knew she attracted the bugs. Generally, if she is among a slew of kids at a picnic and there is a mosquito to be seen within a mile of the place, it will make it's way towards my daughter, land on her soft, white skin and chow down. She swells up and is miserable until I can dab on one of those "itch sticks."

However, there is no cure for the soccer bug. She has never actually PLAYED the game as far as I know, has never owned a ball or used one around me. But, she wants to play soccer.

"I want to play soccer," she said, wide-eyed, riding in her booster seat behind me. I knew she would say this before she opened her mouth.

Of courses, I pulled the car into the big, packed lot next to the field. Together, we walked onto the playing field and approached one of the bored, milling soccer parents, who had strayed from the herd of dozens upon dozens of OTHER bored soccer parents.

"Who's is charge, here?" I asked. The man looked at me and said "the woman over there in the black pants, she's the wife of the coach!"

Oh, to be a soccer coach! The next best thing, if you're upwardly mobile, driving an SUV, and own a Golden Retriever, is to be MARRIED to a soccer coach.

I approached the woman. "How can I get my kid involved in soccer?" I queried the woman. She smiled, pointing to a man standing about ten yards away from us, surrounded by little girls JUST my daughter's age, all in HUGE dark purple mesh shirts that hung down to their skinny, scabby knees.

"He's the coach, my husband Gerry" (not his real name). "Just go talk to him. Ask him if your daughter can kick the ball around today a little."

I followed the soccer wife's instructions, introducing myself and my daughter to "Da Coach." He was friendly, shook my hand (my daughter, ever skilled in social graces, shook his hand with her left hand) and he said "We may have a place on the team. Dunno for sure."