It is entirely our fault as parents that Tea hasn’t a clue what sports are. With the exception of a few minutes of some high school track meets and football games we’ve walked past in our neighborhood, he’s never seen a sporting event. Not even on TV, since we don’t turn ours on. Kyle enjoys a few Brewers games each summer, but otherwise, we’re just not into sports. Tea has been known to see, say, a tennis ball, and remark, “That’s a basefootball.” This lack of parental sports guidance is probably criminal in our society.
Enter the 3-4 year old soccer group. What a deal! For $30, Tea gets 6 practices and 6 games. That’s not only 10 hours of adult-led exposure to a sport that seems kinda fun and very energy-consuming. It’s 10 hours of sports instruction by someone other than me. I failed tennis in high school. I literally got an F. I also got vibrant bruises across my shins from bashing them with every. single. serve. I couldn’t help hitting myself with my own racquet. I want absolutely nothing to do with Tea’s sports education.
Warm up is by far the cutest part of soccer practice. After that it all sort of goes downhill into an excersize that looks a lot like the coaches trying to herd cats. But Tea is having fun.
Tea does practice drills well, but at games the poor kid runs back and forth, back and forth, back and forth, never touching the ball in 40 minutes. While it doesn’t dampen his spirits, he comes off the field saying, “I waited for my turn to kick the ball, but noone gave it to me.”
Try as we might, we can’t get him to understand competition. Why he is so adept at taking the toys his little brother is playing with but can’t translate the concept the field is beyond me. It couldn’t have anything to do with our parenting, right? Our boys are doomed.