The Season Finale for the Yellow Bugs

Perfection. A dynasty. Break us up. All thoughts coming to my mind after our resounding 8-0 final game victory. It was a good day for the Yellow Bugs. Other than the arctic blasts whipping the field in the middle of May, it was a lovely Saturday morning. My old man got to see Ruby play and score three or four goals, my little German continued to own the league depositing four goals herself, and my little Amazon had her first goal of the year.

I barely even coached. It was like I just put the needle on the record and pushed play. It was pretty awesome and at the same time kind of sad. I only have one more year with these girls and they will either go to a club team or stay in recreational. Hopefully, I will have it in me to form my own club but I'm not sure if that is in their best interests and not mine.

The only real coaching of note was my attempt to keep my ace striker in the back and not score.  I put her nearly in our own goal and told her not to go forward but each time it was too much and she would run out, steal the ball, and score. In actuality, the parents from the other team respected the fact I was trying to hold them back. Showing some restraint is appreciated some times.

After it was over, joined hands, gave our final cheer and I thanked the parents for all their help. I'm coaching on Wednesday nights starting on June 1st up by my house. If you read this and have a 5-6 year old bring them up. Just send me an email.

Thanks for reading.

Ben

Soccer Games and Pizza Parties

One can not plan their schedule in the Spring when your plans are dependent on good weather. Needless to say, the Yellow Bugs were supposed to wrap up their season this past Saturday but mother nature rained us out about a month ago, meaning this coming Saturday is our last game.  Why any of this is relevant surrounds the fact that all sporting seasons must be ended with a pizza party of some kind.  My wife started hounding me (and by hounding I mean whispering sweet nothings repeatedly in my ear while sending me countless emails) after the first game to arrange a time for an end of season party.  I must confess, I would much rather focus on coaching but the extracurriculars are as much a part of coaching as the X's and O's.

The plan was set for Pizza Shoppe after our last game for a little post game fun and hopefully a little bonding by the girls. None of them are in the same classes at the same school, but my grandiose visions, has them playing together for years so why not facilitate friendship now. To digress, we did play the best game of the season last Saturday. The other team was very well coached, another Dad not a college kid, and his team seemed to get it. At one point the ball went from our end to there end, follow by a shot by us, which was deflected and taken all the way back to our end. Then, our team actually put a couple of passes together and it went to their end.  Continuous, end to end action which was pretty impressive. You could actually hear parents on both teams talking about how impressive it was.  Our string of domination did continue with Ruby and my German striker scoring about six goals. After the game, I handed out medals to a couple girls who were unable to join us for the pizza party and their certificates.

Certificates? That's right, certificates. Thanks to Microsoft word and awards templates, I was able to make a certificate for each kid.  These were not your, you did a good job, here is a piece of paper awards.  I tried to personalize each one with a funny message.  For instance, Ruby got the "Best Choice of Outfits and Accessories" Award for her ability to go with different headbands and earring choices for each game. After the kids had ate pizza and cake (again my wife told me to get a cake and have them put "Go Yellow Bugs" on it) I presented the medals to the kids and their awards. While I think the kids appreciated them and thought they were cool, it's the parents who appreciate the extra effort.  In a nutshell that is what I think the difference between being a good coach and being a great one, extra effort. Luckily for me, I have a wife who is in turn with all things kid related (she's a first grade teacher) and I love sports. A winning combination.

Back in Business with the Yellow Bugs Soccer Team

The future's so bright I have to wear shades. That is how I feel right now and that is what I see when I watch these seven girls kick the ball around and put beat down after beat down on helpless five year olds. After a three week hiatus, I got back on the field with my girls and we picked up where we left off. 

We had one game rained out the day of my marathon but that was cool because I hate missing games.  Last week, we were in Fort Collins for Easter so I did have to miss that one but another Dad willingly stepped into the drivers seat to steer this machine to victory.  On Saturday, as Ruby and I got out of the car, the smell of freshly cut grass permeated the air, while the sun warmed us up into the proper playing temperature. 

After about thirty minutes of drills I asked the other coach if she was ready to go.  "I guess," was her reply. Not very convincing and a little bit snippy.  Let's hit the highlights quickly on this one.  Ruby and Susie combined for six goals and they didn't score one on us.  The other team did not get frustrated but their coach sure did.  I have one little girl who is practically spinning and dancing while she plays, she has embraced my Capoeira still of soccer, and after we scored our six goal she runs back to our side of the field and says while running, "six to zero Coach."

"Well that's rude," snipes the other coach.

Hold on a minute. First, my player was keeping score herself and in her excitement for our ass kicking we were laying down, happened to say the score out loud.  Now, I understand this is just for fun, and there is no winner or loser, but you better be damn sure that I tell them the score at the end of the game and congratulate them on winning.  If we lost I would tell them that as well.  Let's be real here. I'm not raising some softies and based on the continued participation of my team, their parents like how I coach.

Now back to the other coach for a minute. Here is my main problem with the Premier Coaches they employ in our league (and for full disclosure I sit on the board that oversees this league so I know these people), they are almost all college soccer players and this is their first experience coaching little kids.  Most of these coaches are all very skilled and wouldn't be playing college soccer if they weren't. Just because they are good doesn't mean then can coach.  This particular coach was having them drill step-overs and line drills. Get real! They are five, you should be teaching concepts such as offense, defense, the rules. Foot skills are great to teach, individually but come on this is supposed to be at their level. Secondly, she was yelling at them during the game and you could see the frustration in her face and hear it in her voice during the game. 

Anyway, after the game we enjoyed our post-game cheer and savory snacks.  The Yellow Bugs will crawl all up in your business! Boom!

Not Everything Sucks in Kansas - The Oz Marathon

I'm so glad it's over.  For a solid two weeks before my marathon I was nervous. Not the butterflies in the belly, palms sweaty nervous, but the, I hope all this work wasn't for nothing, I'm going to be super pissed at myself, be personally disappointed and go back to drinking, nervous.  Part of my nervousness stems from the fact that I put so much emphasis on this particular race.  Last year, I set my PR at this race and this year had geared my marathon training toward qualifying for Boston 2012.  I don't know how else to explain it but imagine you have been practicing anything, barbequing, piano playing, public speaking, for a year and then you have one chance to prove that all that training was worth it; that is what I was trying to do.

I got out of bed around 5:00am that morning.  That is paperboy early and I haven't seen 5:00am since I didn't go to bed, not because I was just waking up.  I am as anal as a proctologist when it comes to my prerace routine so needless to say, I had my race gear laid out, all my accessories in the right place, and while I budgeted myself 30 minutes to get ready, it took me about 15 minutes.  I was out the door and on my way to QuikTrip to for my pre-race drink. I had already downed a banana and two multivitamins (I don't know if the vitamins work but an ultra runner I read about does it and he's fast so why not) and got my RockStar.  It's the sugar-free white can, I have to watch my figure.  My intention is not to drink it all, but to take a couple swallows and get a bit of the caffeine into me as a slight pick me up. After my forty five minute drive, I pulled into a parking spot and realized it was too damn early to start warming up so I had to sit and fidget.  Most people in the parking lot had the same idea so we all just sat there trying not to make eye contact because God forbid we have to acknowledge each other. 

The conditions were mixed at best for an ideal marathon (probable excuse 1).  It was cold, not cool before the race, 37 degrees to be exact and windy as all get out. Literally, looking out my windows you would have thought we were in a storm.  30 mile per hour winds with gusts up 40 were expected and based on what I was seeing it was going to be brutal (probable excuse 2). Running in the wind is basically like running up hill and as one of the pace guys would tell me later, "the wind isn't bad as long as you run faster when it's behind you." Easier said than done smart ass.  Well, after getting through my routine, jogging, stretching, peeing, listening to GirlTalk, I went back to my car and dropped off my clothes, tore off my 3:00:00 pace band and went with the 3:10:00 band solo.  I had trained for a 3:10:00 and decided to keep a sharp focus. By now I was good and ready and headed out to the start line. 

I like to represent the Cape Girardeau when I race, so I was sporting the short orange shorts, and black tank top (both from Eastbay I love that magazine still). I was sporting a long sleeve white shirt for warmth, black gloves, and matching orange head band. Two points to note here: headbands are a plus in almost any endeavor, nothing gives that final touch of pizazz as a matching headband. 2. Short shorts should only be worn if you are fast.  If you are slow, it allows the spectators more time to make fun of you and makes it much more likely that your junk might make an appearance.  Luckily for me, I am fast and my junk is properly stowed away during races.

Starting lines are like speed dating, you have to find a partner and have about 30 seconds to do it. I knew they weren't going to have a pacer for my goal time 3:10:00 but I figured I could hook up with the 1:35:00 half marathon pacer and run with that group. During my chat with the smart ass 1:30:00 marathon pacer he told me that the 1:35:00 pacer had dropped out (probable excuse 3).  This is when I just start talking to all the dudes around me and ask them what times they were hoping to run. It took about one minute to find two guys who wanted to run 3:10 and they were both hoping to qualify for Boston as well. Sweet action! Unfortunately, one minute later they told me they were going to try to run even pace.  That means running a 7:15 mile the whole time. I am not a believer in this practice and you shouldn't be either. I run a smart pace, meaning I go out in a slow first mile and use the next two to get up to the speed I want to run.  This helps to burn less energy early and stores the needed energy in my muscles for later.

To speed this post along, I passed the first guy hoping to run a 3:10 at mile 4. He was already breathing heavy and I could tell if he was laboring with his breathing then, he was in for some trouble. I passed the second guy a few miles later and he tried to keep up but faded fairly quickly as well.  There are no friends during races, I feel bad when you know someone is not going to make their time but you shouldn't let it hold you back when you put in so much work.   Around mile nine I was getting really close to the 1:30 half group.  That is good and bad. Good because I was breathing easy and felt strong but bad because that is about five minutes faster than I had intended.  At this point I made a strong mental decision.  I was going to keep my pace at that rate as long as I could and not look at my watch until mile 18.  As the ongoing conversation took place in my head, because I had no one to run with and I consider myself a good listener, I rationalized that at the 18 mile mark I would be 8 miles out and could have a good idea of what was ahead.  Most distance runners give themselves milestones or posts to gauge themselves, sometimes it's only to the next street, sometimes it after then next ten miles, you just have to break it up.

At mile 18.25 I was at 2:04:50 which is a 6:51 per mile pace.  My confidence level was particularly high at this moment because the marathon is an out and back from when we split with the halfers.   This meant every step from there on out, is one step closer to the finish line. Again, I made the mental choice to not look at my watch until mile 22.  Four miles left would be when I decide if I'm going to go for broke and try to sub 3 hours, or if that was not going to happen.  At four miles left, I had a little less than 30 minutes to run for it.  I got to two miles left and had less than 15 minutes to go. With one mile left I took off my white, long sleeve shirt.  Let's be real here, looking good is as important as finishing good, plus the volunteers at most races pick up all the discarded clothes and donate them to charity.  Double Rainbow!  I was doing good and looking good.

With one mile left I had a little less than seven minutes to sub 3 hours.  You might be saying, "Ben you are golden."  Well, we had been running in the wooded suburbs for the past twelve miles and was at least partially sheltered from the wind. Not anymore. I was greeted by a fierce head wind saying, "Ha, ha, ha. You didn't think it would be this easy did you?" My visions of grandeur were blow away but not my sense of happiness.  I passed the 26 mile marker and could see the finish line.  The two guys I could see in front of me had just finished.  I could see my wife and kids standing by the finishing shoot cheering for me.  With about a mile left I had ideas of blowing them kisses, doing a cartwheel, or screaming at the top of my lungs. I did none of those.  Why wife was yelling, "You did it" and I was so happy.  I crossed the line, stopped my watch, and pumped my fist.  I might as well let you in on this side of it too.  When I staggered over to the finishing plaza I started to cry. Ruby would tell you the only time she has seen me cry is after a race and I shed some tears on this one.  Emily gave me a big hug and said, "you better call your Dad, he's called me like two times." Not surprising, next to my wife, he's my biggest fan.

I ran into another friend who came down to watch the finish but was a bit too late.  He could have cared less he was so stoked when I told him my finishing time.  3:01:39.  A new PR and a new title that I can take with me to my grave. Boston Marathon Qualifier.

A Lesson in Total Domination

Two weeks into the young season and our first smack down was issued.  When referencing my daughter's 5 year old soccer games I like to use adjectives like beat down, whooping, throttling, and massacre as often as possible. It provides the proper context for the level of play that I think all non-competitive, youth soccer teams should strive for. This Saturday the Yellow Bugs showed the Purple Polka Dots who was boss.

Fast forward to the end and the final score read 6-1.  While the disappointment in giving up the one goal was heavy on my shoulders, they weight was made easier by Susie and Ruby's dual hat tricks.  I have seven girls on my team and only three can play at a time. In an effort to be fair to other teams, I don't put Ruby and Susie on the field at the same time. Ruby is fast and very aggressive.  Susie has the foot-skills of an armless Brazilian and has moves straight out of HOT 103 JAMS!  Together they are like Magic and Kareem, Usher and Bieber, Peanut Butter and Jelly, so good separately but hot damn, amazing together.

The best part of the match was how much better the other five girls are getting.  Annie is my defensive stopper.  When she is out there, she just runs to the back and lets no one get by her it hysterical, I don't even tell her, she does it on her own.  Avery and Chloe are my twin towers and both are getting better but I have to teach them to be more aggressive and realize they aren't going to hurt anyone.  Maggie and Mackenzie are my gentle bugs.  One was crying at the start of the practice but was smiling by the end.  The other started running during the games and almost, almost got a goal.  I have set a personal challenge to get all seven girls a goal by the end of the season. I was so close a couple times on Saturday but we will get there.  The trick it is to put Ruby and Susie in at the same time and tell them to go get the ball, dribble to the goal and them somehow get them to pass it to the other girl. They have this scoring thing down, now they just need to learn how to share.

Coaching - teaching life lessons while kicking ass!

From Pink Elephants to Yellow Bugs

Alas the Spring soccer is upon us and we kicked off the new season with a new name.  Since, having a team name is one of my top tips to a successful under 5 team establishing the name early is important. In the fall we went with "Pink Elephants" due to the remarkable coincidence that our jerseys were pink and had elephants on them. Surprisingly, our jerseys are yellow with lady bugs on them so shockingly we are now the "YELLOW BUGS"!!!

I have mentioned this before, but I grade my coaching performance on a couple of ultra analytical measures requiring various algorithms and non-differential linear equations.  The first being how many kids came back.  We had seven girls, including my own, on the team in the fall.  We have all seven, including my own (as much as she would want to go elsewhere) back on the team again.  Success!  Honestly, I don't think it says much about the success or failure of my coaching abilities but I think it speaks to the communication I try to keep with the parents and the amount of fun I try to bring to every game and practice we have.

If you are an overly competitive jerk (I am a recovering competitive jerk) and base success on wins and losses then this season is off to a smashing start.  We played the only team that beat us last year. They have a couple of kids with the foot skills to do step overs and half garrinchas while maintaining possession and kicking while they are running.  For most of my girls keeping the ball close and being able to shield the defender away is a small feat.  Well, that was last year.  Now, almost all my girls and maintain possession and I have two that can actually out run defenders while they are dribbling.  Pretty sweet action!  Anyway, my little one was able to put two in the back of the net and my pocket Ace, Suzie, was able to make four goals.  Four goals, hell one was practically a half volley that went in the goal in the air.  That's amazing considering 95% of the kids at this age can't kick the ball off the ground unless by accident. 

The only downside to the start of this year was that some of the parents didn't recognize me without my luscious locks (see lasts years pic)

On the whole my new look lends to a bit more credibility and probably gives the parents more reassurance in who is leading their kids.

Here is to another great season for the Yellow Bugs!

My Little Judo Champion

The anticipation was killing me as we drove up from Kansas City to Kearney, Missouri for Ruby's first Judo tournament.  She had literally been asking me everyday for at least a month, how many days until her tournament and the day was finally here.  Having had at least four or five months of practice under her belt it was time to see if she could turn theory into action.  As we arrived in the high school I walked with the wife and kids over to the bleachers.  Once everyone was settled in I set out to scout out her bracket and the competition.  Not surprisingly, Ruby was the National Champion, as soon as we got there.  Being that there were no other 5 and under, less than 40 pound girls signed up, by default Ruby won her bracket and her first national championship. Unlike the Kansas Jayhawks, Ruby could just show and win the national championship...zing!

Considering my in-laws, my Dad and his wife, my brother and his wife and kids, Ruby's preschool teacher, and one cousin all came to the meet to watch I had to find at least one match for her.  I spoke with the tournament director and he told me that if I could find some kids and coaches who would be willing to set up an exhibition match then he would put it on the schedule.  Unfortunately, I could only find two boys, who were roughly her age and weight to match up with.  I would rather her fight only girls but she would have been heart broken if she didn't get a chance to shine. 

Her first match was against her practice partner, Peyton.  They are almost the exact same size and were excited to go against eachother.  The judge says "hajime" (begin) to start the match.  All of the commands are in Japanese and it's pretty cool to see the kids take right to it.  Ruby attempted her two throws she knows many times, but to no avail, she was forced to use her suffocating ground technique to subdue Peyton and get a 5-2 victory.  I don't even know if she realized she won but her and Peyton were smiling and laughing after it was over so I was happy. 

After waiting around two hours, it was time for her second match.  She was tired, having missed her nap, and not feeling very good. The fire in her eye from earlier was extinguished, I could tell this was going to be rough.  From the very beginning of the match, she was on the defensive, backing up, not being aggressive.  The little guy finally took her down and got her on her back, she would later claim she was being choked, which is not allowed until 12 years old, and was "pinned".  Any thought I had that she didn't really care about winning and losing was immediately erased when she knew she lost and broke down in tears.  Her coach came up to me later and said, "she doesn't like losing does she?" Absolutely not. 

By that point we had been there for almost six hours, got to watch her fight in two matches, and were ready to go home. She got to stand on top of the podium get her first place medal and ride off into the sunset.  Just before we left her coach told me that she would be getting her yellow belt at practice on Tuesday.  She is going to be thrilled.  What a great day with my little national champion.