Some of you know that I studied in athletic therapy (athletic training for those of you living south of the border) and although I don't do that many hours working sidelines anymore, there are the odd occasions I still do.
Earlier this week I managed a last-minute meet-up with a kindred spirit and fellow (see: better and more frequent) blogger, and the bestest, huggiest ass-kicker Solo. We got to chat and I also got around to reading some of her blog posts. She likes to observe people and life as it happens, which leads me to this write this.
I might grumble a bit at working a soccer tournament as there's waaaay too much drama that goes on for the players that are still at such a young age - the diving, the yelling at the referee, the coach practically having an aneurysm yelling on the sidelines..
But I'm caught by surprise.
Today's venue has games on small surfaces - a regular soccer turf field is divided into 4 smaller ones for teams of 7 or 8 year-olds. They are in a discovery of the sport so the parents and the coaches aren't putting that much pressure on them. While getting ready for warm-ups, there's an innocent, doe-eyed detachment like they aren't sure how to act or look, only that they are there because they're enrolled on a team in a tournament.
These kids are not running full tilt into each other battling for the ball, but whenever collisions or accidental bumps happen, there's quite a few tears shed. Sure, it hurts when an opponent steps on your toe with his cleats, or falls on your arm. There's a bit more TLC than diagnosing boo-boos.
There's also no screams about plays being offside because there are no line judges, which is fantastic because many tempers flare due to these calls.
I watch with much fascination and some contained joy at how the 7 and 8 year-olds simply play soccer. Not compete, but run and kick a ball, simply put.
Other moments that happened as the afternoon went on:
- one team clearly losing to their superior opponent, and when the 3rd goal is scored the losing team's goalkeeper is wiping away some tears...in response, his coach calls out, "I'm still proud of you, NO MATTER WHAT the result is!!!"
- a teenaged volunteer, probably no older than 15, patiently explaining to a child why one of her Thunderstix (those blow-up balloons you bang together) won't inflate
- Thunderstix attract kids like honey attracts ants
- an 8 year-old is guiding his younger brother along the sidelines, hand on his back, and telling him not to cross the yellow line (onto the playing fields). This same little brother gives his bigger brother a huge hug before warm-ups
- I've learned to accept that sometimes athletic therapy is a thankless job, but today a coach came up to me and thanked me for helping his team out. Law of averages?
- I end up comforting a player after she gets a ball accidentally kicked in her face. While I'm asking her how it happened, she tells me between sobs, "...she kicked the ball at me...she kicked it hard." Yup, emphasis on that last word.
Sometimes, life has a few surprises for us. Can I work 7 and 8 year-olds' soccer from now on?
