My Field

By Chris

Soccer practice started with a jumbled up mess last night. Four coaches, 40+ players showing up to practice at the same field, at the same time. Ugghhh. If you have not coached kids, you can't appreciate how special some fellow coaches can be. One team quickly retreated to an unmarked field (we'll get back to them later). Then the three remaining coaches stood at mid-field trying to figure it out. Two of us had rights to share the one field. One would have to go. All claimed to have signed up. One guy was very insistent (Mr. This Is My Field), if you know what I mean. Meantime, the kids are all running around together, mixing up our balls and teams beyond recognition. Teresa broke for the sidelines, obviously wanting no part of the debate. I offered to rotate with Mr. This Is My Field, with each of us using the small Tiny Tots field every other Tuesday (that seemed a reasonable compromise, in the interest of all the little 7-year-olds). No way, he said. Hmmm. (We've experienced his bravado before in seasons past). I knew what happened. One of us three had accidentally signed up for that Tiny Tot field. The other level-headed coach dialed up the keeper of the field schedule to settle the thing (poor keeper of the field schedule . . . you wouldn't believe the stuff he has to deal with running these leagues for the city. Over the years knowing him, he tells me the parents and coaches are waayyy worse to deal with than the kids). Turns out, Mr. This Is My Field had indeed signed up, accidentally, for the Tiny Tot field. Ha. So, we made him pick up his cones and take his balls to the little field. And, I guess I won't be switching with him every other week either, since he turned that down. Small justice on the soccer field, I guess.