“Don’t cry because it’s over. Smile because it happened.” Dr. Seuss

When my son was in elementary school, I served as a parent volunteer coach for soccer in the fall, and baseball (tee ball, coach pitch, kid pitch) in the spring. I did this when he was in grades one through five, and enjoyed doing it. My employer allowed me to work 7 am to 4 pm. Once a week I took a half hour lunch so as to end my work day at 3:30pm. We’d have practice that day, and games Saturday mornings. Back then, in the early ’80s, our soccer teams had both boys and girls.

That first team was memorable. Kids, first- and second-graders, varied in athletic ability. One boy stood out as a talent. He was big and strong and aggressive, very competitive, and loaded with coordination and spatial awareness. Years later he was a dominant high school football player on championship teams. He went on to play four years at a Big 10 school on an athletic scholarship.

There were other able players on the team, and we finished the year with a very good record, despite my insistence that all players receive equal amounts of playing time.

When I volunteered, at a meeting, to coach the team, another man spoke up and volunteered to help. “Great,” I said, “we can co-coach.” But he didn’t want to go that way; he wanted to be an assistant coach. When I learned he was a doc, I told him I thought it would be great to have someone knowledgeable in case there was a need for first aid. “Nah,” he said. “I’m a pathologist. I’m not much good to them if they’re still alive.”

Point taken. I found a mom with a kid on the team that was an RN. She became our First Aid Lady. She could dispense both Band-aids and hugs in a warm and caring fashion, and assess situations as to the need for anything more than that.

One little girl struck me as what my wife might have been like at that age. She was cute, with dark wavy hair, and obviously very bright. She may have had many strengths, but athleticism was not among them. She paid attention, though, and tried to do what she could. Better than most at that age, she understood not to swarm to the ball.

I think I was kind to the kids, and had a recognition that it was unlikely that they needed to hone their skills for lives playing professional sports. I tried to model my own values of fairness and inclusiveness and sportsmanship. And competitiveness without sacrificing those core beliefs. We talked about teamwork, and perhaps learned and improved some skills.

One of the fun things we did as a team was to attend a college game of a local D-III school. We had cider and doughnuts, and had a little scrimmage on the college team’s practice field. The kids were wowed by the skills exhibited by the college guys, and interested to see that those guys didn’t swarm, they played positional soccer.

Another fun time was Mud Day. I’d announce at the start of the year that we would practice the first muddy day. The practice was optional, I’d make clear. When a rainy day came, and the field was mud, we’d practice. The kids would slip and slide and fall in the mud, and be covered in the stuff. Of course I joined in, and they loved it when I’d fall and muddy myself.

It was fun, with the sound of laughter throughout the time. Kids would go home and be hosed off by the moms, with the muddy clothes set to soak, and the kids taking well deserved, and much needed, showers.

I was sorting through things last week, and found something the previously mentioned the previously mentioned little girl gave me at the end of that season. On the outside of a small box, was a paper label that says, “to the best coach a kid ever had!!!!!!” Inside was a note, that said: “I just wanted you to know that you’re a nice coach. So for Halloween I made you something. It only took me two weeks. Hope you like it. Love, Rachel M.”

It was a decorative sewing piece of art. Seven small panels of orange cloth were stitched together. Black thread and white thread were used to depict things on each panel. There is a Jack O’ Lantern, a flower, a tennis racquet and ball, a girl with curly hair, a guy smiling, a balloon, and the words “Happy Halloween” with a couple of ghosts.  

The superlative is a bit much, to my way of thinking, and I’m not sure I rate six exclamation points – but it was very nice. It may be easy to understand why I still have it after thirty-six years. But let me say: Rachel did all this when she was in second grade!!!!!!