"I hate my team!" he screamed.
"Seriously? Why?" Comrade asked.
"They are all babies! Don't know anything! Don't know how to play the game! Babies!" His voice boomed.
"Don't play, then," Comrade said.
"What? No way! I love soccer!" he stated, surprised by the comment.
"What's the point? You hate it. You hate your teammates. How depressing." Comrade was getting frustrated.
"I wish I could play with my other team. They were better," he noted.
"But you said they were no good. That they never made cool plays or learned how to assist. You said everyone just wanted to make goals. Goals. Goals. Goals." Comrade reminisced.
"That's true. They did just want to make goals! They all thought that that is what soccer is about! They just didn't get how to play the game for real! Like Messi." He hardened his tone.
"You need to work with your coach. Help him with those babies. Pretend you are their big brother. Their mentor. The assistant coach." Comrade reasoned.
"Yeah. Whatever. We'll see." he mumbled.
"You really should change your attitude. It will make the whole soccer experience so much more rewarding. It's no fun to watch a poor sport. Show me what you've got out there on the field." Comrade was serious.
"Humph!" he managed.
"Remember? Positive attitude today. Make the most of it. Teach those babies how to play. They will think you are the coolest cat around. So skilled." Comrade tried to sound hip.
Slow head nod. No words.
"Hey! It looked like you were having fun out there today. Looked like you were into it. I watched you laughing and joking with those babies. Good for you." Comrade happily said.
"It was alright." He half believed himself.
He guzzled down half a bottle of semi-cold Gatorade.
One of the babies yelled "Bye!" to him. He jerked his head upward. A cool-cat nod.
"See ya."
So nonchalant.
Comrade smiled.
"Looks like this team may work for you?"
Shoulders shrug.
"They still don't know how to play. My team still sucks!"
Comrade is in for a longer than long season.
"Seriously? Why?" Comrade asked.
"They are all babies! Don't know anything! Don't know how to play the game! Babies!" His voice boomed.
"Don't play, then," Comrade said.
"What? No way! I love soccer!" he stated, surprised by the comment.
"What's the point? You hate it. You hate your teammates. How depressing." Comrade was getting frustrated.
"I wish I could play with my other team. They were better," he noted.
"But you said they were no good. That they never made cool plays or learned how to assist. You said everyone just wanted to make goals. Goals. Goals. Goals." Comrade reminisced.
"That's true. They did just want to make goals! They all thought that that is what soccer is about! They just didn't get how to play the game for real! Like Messi." He hardened his tone.
"You need to work with your coach. Help him with those babies. Pretend you are their big brother. Their mentor. The assistant coach." Comrade reasoned.
"Yeah. Whatever. We'll see." he mumbled.
"You really should change your attitude. It will make the whole soccer experience so much more rewarding. It's no fun to watch a poor sport. Show me what you've got out there on the field." Comrade was serious.
"Humph!" he managed.
"Remember? Positive attitude today. Make the most of it. Teach those babies how to play. They will think you are the coolest cat around. So skilled." Comrade tried to sound hip.
Slow head nod. No words.
"Hey! It looked like you were having fun out there today. Looked like you were into it. I watched you laughing and joking with those babies. Good for you." Comrade happily said.
"It was alright." He half believed himself.
He guzzled down half a bottle of semi-cold Gatorade.
One of the babies yelled "Bye!" to him. He jerked his head upward. A cool-cat nod.
"See ya."
So nonchalant.
Comrade smiled.
"Looks like this team may work for you?"
Shoulders shrug.
"They still don't know how to play. My team still sucks!"
Comrade is in for a longer than long season.
Awww, the poor thing. Team sports are such a challenge for these little ones. I love how you've coaxed him towards being a menor to his team mates though. Such a great way to turn the situation around. x
ReplyDeleteit happens every year.. due to his birthdate (just after the cutoff....he's either the youngest or, like this year, the oldest.. he towers over the kids... i do what i can to think positive... thanks for the insight..
ReplyDelete