Soccer Blues

Today Isaac explained to me that he is the worst player on his team.

To his literal mind -- that means his team would be better off if he didn't play.  Every team would be better off if the worst player were taken out of the rotation.  And, that is what he tried to do -- take himself out of the rotation.

Isaac can be stubborn with superhuman determination when he makes up his mind about something.  These power struggles happen frequently and come out of the blue.  For example, Wednesday, I took the kids on a hike to waterfall canyon.  I expected to take Ian, Isaac and Katie on this fun adventure (Sophie has a hurt toe).  When it was time to go, Isaac declared with great passion that he hated hiking and refused to join us regardless of my best efforts at persuasion.

Two days later, my brother and his wife stopped by to say "hi" on their way to take their two kids on the exact same hike.  Isaac grabbed his shoes, ran out the door with them on a whim, enthusiastically hiked and had a fantastic time.

Because of his unpredictability and my increasing inability to pick him up and physically make him go anywhere he doesn't want to, I was supremely relieved when we signed him up for soccer two years ago and he didn't give me one minute of grief.

Every time I told him to get dressed for practice or a game, he did it without balking.  This pretty much never happens on a consistent basis with anything in our lives when it comes to this kid, leaving me thinking, "Wow, he must really love soccer."

For the first year, he happily ran up and down the field with his teammates never making contact with the ball and, to my eyes, not seeming to have a great awareness that there was an actual competitive game going on as opposed to back and forth field sprints by a group of kids wearing matching jerseys.  But, he was happy, so I was happy.

This year, he has improved.  He has started mapping out the rules and strategies of the game in his mind.  He has started trying to kick the ball when it comes near him.  And, sometimes, he even makes contact with it.  I have complimented him after every game on these achievements.

He didn't tire of playing soccer even after thirty weeks in a row with no break (after fall AYSO ended, we kept signing up for indoor sessions until spring AYSO began).

I was perplexed last week when he refused to go to practice.  Last Friday, he wouldn't go and was talking about reasons he couldn't play in the game scheduled for the next day (his knee had been hurting for two days straight so bad he could barely walk!!! he told me).  I figured he was tired, I let him skip practice, and the next day the games were rained out.

Yesterday, his practice was cancelled.  Before he went to bed I talked to him about his game the next morning.  He usually does better with transitions (like any time we need to leave to go somewhere) if I give him lots of time to warm up to the idea.

His game was at 9 a.m. and he popped out of bed at 7:30 asking to play electronics.

"Sure, you can play something as soon as you eat breakfast and get all the way ready for your game," I said.

Usually, he will do almost anything for electronics time.  Especially first thing in the morning -- something I almost never agree to.  But, this time he went into full on stubborn mode instantly.  He was yelling at me, covering his ears, crying and making sure I knew there was absolutely no way he was playing soccer.  His eyes were huge and his whole body tense with his face red as he screamed and repeated himself over and over.

Usually these outbursts come from an irrational place.  He was yelling things like, "I hate leaving the house!"  And, "It's freezing outside!"  (It was 57-degrees and the forecast said it would be 63 before his game started).

I figured he would calm down on his own, but to help him get there, I spoke in a calm voice and said things like, "Do you want to go to the drink (coffee) shop that we sometimes go to after games for a hot chocolate?"  To which he replied, "I hate that hot chocolate!!!  There is nothing special about that hot chocolate.  It tastes exactly like normal hot chocolate from our house!!!"  (side note:  it tastes like heaven in a cup, but I didn't argue this point with him).

I turned his attention to the Italian sodas instead.  No?  A candy bar?  Any kind of treat?  Would he please, please just go to the game?  What currency would he possibly accept?

Then, I pulled out the big guns.  I normally don't ground Isaac from electronics for more than 24-hours because one day off is excruciating and usually the threat of a one-day hiatus is enough to get him to do whatever it is I need him to do.  But, today, I went straight to one week.  He would not touch any electronic for an entire week.  (Then, I said a silent prayer, because it would also be torture on me to carry out this promise for the next seven days while he felt miserable and begged).

I could see his mind searching the possibilities -- he was probably wondering how many times he could sneak in the front room to play the wii in the middle of the night while I was asleep or whether or not he could get screen time at a friend's house.  Then, he dug in his heels and refused to get dressed for soccer despite the unpleasant consequence.

I tried to reason with him.  I knew at least one of his teammates was out of town.  What if more were sick or out of town?  His presence could be the deciding factor of whether they would lose the game through forfeit.

I talked to him about the importance of showing up.  The need to fulfill his obligation as a member of the team.  How disappointed his coach would feel if he didn't come when he was expecting him.

All of my words were spoken as he lay on the floor crying and screaming and asking why I didn't love him?  Why I hated him?  Why it felt like everyone in the world didn't think he even had feelings?  Yes--these outbursts are quite dramatic.  Always.

As 9 a.m. closed in and I had spent a full hour and a half engaged in this exchange, I began to feel quite emotionally drained.  I threatened to take him to the game in his P.J.s.  I threatened to get him dressed myself.  As I wrestled his shirt off of him and tried to force the soccer jersey on (I knew deep down it was never going to work, but I was out of ideas), the real reason behind all of it came spilling out.

"Besides I am the worst player on the team!!!  I never make a goal.  I never even kick the ball in the direction of the goal.  Every time I try to kick the ball the other team takes it and scores a goal.  I am the worst player so I shouldn't even play!!!"

These words went to my core.  It was as if a new self awareness had overtaken my little boy and instead of skipping up and down the field blissfully, he was now keenly aware of his shortcomings and how they hurt the team.

His description was accurate.  I had seen the scenario time and time again from the side lines.

I never cared.  It is nine-year-olds playing soccer.  I feel elated when he gets in there and kicks the ball.  I see that he is improving and that he loves to play.  But, now he knew.  I didn't care, but he did.

It took me awhile to figure out that his literal mind had plugged in all the variables like a math equation and deduced that the team would be better off if he wasn't in the rotation.

In a way -- yes.  We as parents have all been sitting at a close game when the coach rotates out the best player to give everyone equal playing time and the chances of winning quickly go south.  But, at such a young age and in an arena as non-competitive as AYSO, that's not the point.  Everyone likes to win, but, more than that, it is a great learning opportunity for these young players.

I tried to convey that message to him and Ian even chimed in to reinforce it with some of his own experiences of sticking with something even when he wasn't playing well.  Then, Ian said, "the worst player is the one who doesn't show up to the game at all, so you'd better go."

He finally got dressed and we showed up at the field twenty-minutes late with an agreement on my part that he didn't have to play, just sit on the sidelines to show support to the team.

He sat on my lap and I rubbed his back.  To anyone else who saw the situation, it probably seemed like I was coddling my son.  "What's that sweetie?  You don't want to play today?  Come sit with mommy.  You don't have to do anything you don't want to do."  If only they knew the price tag of getting him there.  The number of tears I had watched slide down his cheeks.  The abundance of yelling I had listened to. The ragged shaky feelings inside me that would take another twenty minutes of sitting in the sun before they would soften and begin to melt away.

We arrived as the first quarter ended and we sat like that through the next two quarters.  Then, two of his teammates were out of the game for injuries so he agreed to play.  I think playing the fourth quarter helped him feel better.

He showed up to the game.  He got to keep his electronic privileges.  He got a back rub in the sun.  He got cheetos and gatorade from the team mom.  He got high fives from everyone.  I hoped he saw how much better it was to come to the game than to stay home.

I wanted to say something to the coach who, by the way, is awesome with the boys.

After most people had left, I approached him while he was gathering nine-million things to carry to his car.  He had that look like he was frantic to get to the next thing.  The way most parents are on a Saturday of shuttling kids around and trying to fit it all in.  "Hi coach.  Isaac thinks he is the worst player and that the worst player on the team shouldn't play because, logically, to him, that makes the most sense."

The coach dropped everything from his arms and went down on his knees to look Isaac in the eyes (although Isaac mostly looked down and to the side as he spoke).  "Isaac, do you love soccer?"  Isaac nodded.  "You are an important member of this team.  I would never trade you for any other player on any other team.  When I was your age, I was picking dandelions during the games.  I didn't know how to play.  But, I stuck with it and that is how I got good.  How did you learn math?  From practicing?  That is how you learn soccer.  If you love it, you need to stick with it and don't ever say you shouldn't be in the game."

I really appreciated that.