Tonight, weather permitting, the third practice. I think this season will be a good one. I like the way the girls seem ready to work. With my less than stellar news of late, I look forward to these occasions even more than I usually do.
I do so love to coach, to see little ones learn and develop both the skills of play and the ethics of proper sports conduct...
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Showing posts with label Soccer Coach. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Soccer Coach. Show all posts
Thursday, April 7, 2011
Saturday, April 2, 2011
Games
First game of the season today. Lots of good hope, expecting fun and a goal or three. Isabelle was sick last night, but seems fully recovered this morning. I had a little talk with the players abut respectful language and courtesy last night. I hear too many kids speaking to their parents as if they were siblings, and the parents responding in kind. I had two parents, hearing me, respond with "Yes, your hear coach Griffin?"
Tonight, Warhammer, and the Greedy Little Bastards. Two of my core players have returned after a long absence, which shall add to the entertainment value. The characters are in a recently-devastated town dominated by the soldiers of the local Graf, a grasping man of low character and ill-repute. In short; their kind of man.
And now, we're off.
Tonight, Warhammer, and the Greedy Little Bastards. Two of my core players have returned after a long absence, which shall add to the entertainment value. The characters are in a recently-devastated town dominated by the soldiers of the local Graf, a grasping man of low character and ill-repute. In short; their kind of man.
And now, we're off.
Thursday, March 31, 2011
Soccer
Today was my and Isabelle's first soccer practice of the spring season. It went well, I think. Lots to do, and the team strikes me as a good mix of experience. I am excited.
At the end, one of the team parents from last year approached me and said, "We were hoping to get you as our coach again this year, my daughter was so bummed."
I thanked her, and then apologized, telling her that league rules kept us from doing as we might want.
"We know, but my girl is still down about it."
It felt very good to hear, especially given that I had a bit of a hard time from the head coach that season. Her words felt better than some petty vindication, they just felt...good.
I look forward to another good season, and hope to do well by the children I coach.
At the end, one of the team parents from last year approached me and said, "We were hoping to get you as our coach again this year, my daughter was so bummed."
I thanked her, and then apologized, telling her that league rules kept us from doing as we might want.
"We know, but my girl is still down about it."
It felt very good to hear, especially given that I had a bit of a hard time from the head coach that season. Her words felt better than some petty vindication, they just felt...good.
I look forward to another good season, and hope to do well by the children I coach.
Monday, May 10, 2010
Why Being Daddy Explodes the Heart
I coach my daughter's soccer team. They are doing well. Very well, in fact. This Saturday my daughter stunned the opposing coach with her play. Stunned him so greatly he was talking about it four minutes later as he came off the field.
The pack was scrambling around the ball, my girl on the outside near the side boundary line across from me. One of the girls on the other team got a piece of the ball and tried to send it up the line past Isabelle.
Isabelle trapped the ball with her right foot, her left shoulder pointing towards the girl that had kicked it. The player on the other team continued to charge forward intending to get a foot in. In one fluid motion, Isabelle rolled the ball under her foot, tapped it with her heel to send it behind her and rolled out at a full run, dribbling the ball smoothly. The entire field was caught flat-footed by the move which she turned into a beautiful goal.
This had all happened not two yards in front of the opposing coach, whose mouth I watched drop open. I heard him say, "Did you see that? Where'd she learn that?"
A few minutes later, at the half, he was walking across the field and talking to the ref (that his team had supplied), "Did you see that #9's play? I wonder whose kid she is."
Ear-hustling on their conversation, I smiled and hooked a thumb at my chest, "That's my girl."
"Wow. That was pretty neat."
My heart about exploded from pride, "Sure was."
Sunday was Mother's Day, and I was bent on cooking a nice breakfast. In order to make that happen, I got up at about 0600 hours. I was in the midst of doing the dishes from the night before when I heard the pad of little feet. I turned around and there is Isabelle asking, "What can I do to help, Daddy?"
She had made sure to wake up early, knowing we were going to be cooking for Mommy. We worked our buns off, and made a very nice breakfast. When everything was just about done, she said, "Thank you very much for helping me cook and make a very special day for Mother's Day, Daddy," and hugged me.
My heart almost exploded again. I managed not to snivel, but I did have to wipe a tear away when she hugged me.
The pack was scrambling around the ball, my girl on the outside near the side boundary line across from me. One of the girls on the other team got a piece of the ball and tried to send it up the line past Isabelle.
Isabelle trapped the ball with her right foot, her left shoulder pointing towards the girl that had kicked it. The player on the other team continued to charge forward intending to get a foot in. In one fluid motion, Isabelle rolled the ball under her foot, tapped it with her heel to send it behind her and rolled out at a full run, dribbling the ball smoothly. The entire field was caught flat-footed by the move which she turned into a beautiful goal.
This had all happened not two yards in front of the opposing coach, whose mouth I watched drop open. I heard him say, "Did you see that? Where'd she learn that?"
A few minutes later, at the half, he was walking across the field and talking to the ref (that his team had supplied), "Did you see that #9's play? I wonder whose kid she is."
Ear-hustling on their conversation, I smiled and hooked a thumb at my chest, "That's my girl."
"Wow. That was pretty neat."
My heart about exploded from pride, "Sure was."
Sunday was Mother's Day, and I was bent on cooking a nice breakfast. In order to make that happen, I got up at about 0600 hours. I was in the midst of doing the dishes from the night before when I heard the pad of little feet. I turned around and there is Isabelle asking, "What can I do to help, Daddy?"
She had made sure to wake up early, knowing we were going to be cooking for Mommy. We worked our buns off, and made a very nice breakfast. When everything was just about done, she said, "Thank you very much for helping me cook and make a very special day for Mother's Day, Daddy," and hugged me.
My heart almost exploded again. I managed not to snivel, but I did have to wipe a tear away when she hugged me.
Sunday, May 2, 2010
May Shall Better April
I am bound and determined that it be so...
April started with the loss of my cell phone and wallet and the only high point was the visit from my new Swiss police friends.
May began with a Saturday filled with lots of fun and entertainment:
I managed to write quite a bit on The Last Captain. I think I have figured out the climax, and the writing slams forward apace. It has been quite some time since I felt such confidence working on it.
Isabelle's soccer match went well and she scored a few goals. More importantly, she managed several assists. The opposing team had lots of speed, the first time we have faced a team possessing equal or greater speed than our own.
Last night I got to play Twilight 2013. Moose, who I earlier mentioned was having difficulty founding a new group, started his Kosovo campaign last night with three of the players I have been running games for and a new fellow. The new guy fit in quite quick. I was astonished to see Moose had found someone taller than him to play with. There are few people who make me feel small, but I was definately playing with some large mammals last night.
We all spent a great deal of last night's session making our characters and integrating them into the group. I am playing Slobodan Tosic, a Serbian-born British citizen and MI-6 field agent code-named 'Nishlia' that stayed behind in Kosovo when the rest of the embassy staff pulled out. He's a bitter and determined man who desires only to survive and prosper in the hell the world has become.
We had an absurd amount of equipment dice because of both Nishlia's experience and another of the player's, so I think we will set ourselves up as a 21st Century Third Man and group. There is another field agent in the group, a Russian ex-pat and two Americans who were part of a private military corporation that fell apart.
It was nice for me to just do my own thing instead of managing all the threads of the story. I about burst a blood vessel laughing. At my own joke, of course. I am that kind of dork.
A very nice time. I think this game might have legs. We shall see.
Regardless, May is already better than April.
April started with the loss of my cell phone and wallet and the only high point was the visit from my new Swiss police friends.
May began with a Saturday filled with lots of fun and entertainment:
I managed to write quite a bit on The Last Captain. I think I have figured out the climax, and the writing slams forward apace. It has been quite some time since I felt such confidence working on it.
Isabelle's soccer match went well and she scored a few goals. More importantly, she managed several assists. The opposing team had lots of speed, the first time we have faced a team possessing equal or greater speed than our own.
Last night I got to play Twilight 2013. Moose, who I earlier mentioned was having difficulty founding a new group, started his Kosovo campaign last night with three of the players I have been running games for and a new fellow. The new guy fit in quite quick. I was astonished to see Moose had found someone taller than him to play with. There are few people who make me feel small, but I was definately playing with some large mammals last night.
We all spent a great deal of last night's session making our characters and integrating them into the group. I am playing Slobodan Tosic, a Serbian-born British citizen and MI-6 field agent code-named 'Nishlia' that stayed behind in Kosovo when the rest of the embassy staff pulled out. He's a bitter and determined man who desires only to survive and prosper in the hell the world has become.
We had an absurd amount of equipment dice because of both Nishlia's experience and another of the player's, so I think we will set ourselves up as a 21st Century Third Man and group. There is another field agent in the group, a Russian ex-pat and two Americans who were part of a private military corporation that fell apart.
It was nice for me to just do my own thing instead of managing all the threads of the story. I about burst a blood vessel laughing. At my own joke, of course. I am that kind of dork.
A very nice time. I think this game might have legs. We shall see.
Regardless, May is already better than April.
Tuesday, March 30, 2010
Recent News, Time Out, Tomorrow Off
Recent Events:
I have been away from the keyboard for a while, but still managed to get some writing done. I have been cranking a little bit at a time on the third scenario for Everytown, which is fairly short relative to the last one. I even got a whole paragraph written for the novel yesterday.
My daughter has started her second season of soccer, and I am her team's coach. We had our first game on Saturday, and she has some great girls on her team. My girl played well, the team performed exceptionally, and everyone seemed have fun. There is but one parent that puts my teeth on edge. Hopefully it was just a one-time thing, and a product of the stress I was feeling rather than something more.
Last night I spoke with an officer I hadn't had opportunity to speak with in some time. I told him what has happened with my writing. He congratulated me and in the subsequent conversation, revealed that he had given up being a struggling artist for the job. We talked some more, and I felt a sadness and an anger in him. I asked about it and he told me that he'd been burned as a younger man by an unscrupulous partner on a comic.
I told him that I am happier now than ever before because I am doing what I want, and what I am driven, to do. Further, I told him that I can work out some portion of my demons by writing them out and making the situations happen to my poor characters.
We talked about other things for a bit, mostly my fiction, and then we were leaving. As we did so, I couldn't help but meddle, and said, "I would think that someone as visual as an artist or illustrator would have clear recall of the shit we see, and relive it at odd times. Maybe getting that pen out will let you work some of that shit out. And if, as I suspect, you are driven to do it, you will just be happier drawing than not."
He gave a thoughtful nod, but didn't say anything. I hope he does pick it up again.
Future Plans:
I have tomorrow off, thanks to that venerable hero of California, Cesar Chavez.
I hope to get much writing done tomorrow and even a bit today. The weather is foul outside and if I can keep the damn TV off tomorrow I should hammer quite a bit out, and excercise those of my own demons.
I have been away from the keyboard for a while, but still managed to get some writing done. I have been cranking a little bit at a time on the third scenario for Everytown, which is fairly short relative to the last one. I even got a whole paragraph written for the novel yesterday.
My daughter has started her second season of soccer, and I am her team's coach. We had our first game on Saturday, and she has some great girls on her team. My girl played well, the team performed exceptionally, and everyone seemed have fun. There is but one parent that puts my teeth on edge. Hopefully it was just a one-time thing, and a product of the stress I was feeling rather than something more.
Last night I spoke with an officer I hadn't had opportunity to speak with in some time. I told him what has happened with my writing. He congratulated me and in the subsequent conversation, revealed that he had given up being a struggling artist for the job. We talked some more, and I felt a sadness and an anger in him. I asked about it and he told me that he'd been burned as a younger man by an unscrupulous partner on a comic.
I told him that I am happier now than ever before because I am doing what I want, and what I am driven, to do. Further, I told him that I can work out some portion of my demons by writing them out and making the situations happen to my poor characters.
We talked about other things for a bit, mostly my fiction, and then we were leaving. As we did so, I couldn't help but meddle, and said, "I would think that someone as visual as an artist or illustrator would have clear recall of the shit we see, and relive it at odd times. Maybe getting that pen out will let you work some of that shit out. And if, as I suspect, you are driven to do it, you will just be happier drawing than not."
He gave a thoughtful nod, but didn't say anything. I hope he does pick it up again.
Future Plans:
I have tomorrow off, thanks to that venerable hero of California, Cesar Chavez.
I hope to get much writing done tomorrow and even a bit today. The weather is foul outside and if I can keep the damn TV off tomorrow I should hammer quite a bit out, and excercise those of my own demons.
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