The seasons of sports are upon us. Search and Destroy are reaching the age where they are eligible for the local sports leagues.
We’ve always been of the mindset to sign the boys up for all the sports. Then they can decide if they have any interest.
Yesterday we jumped in feet first for the first of organized athletics. We’ve participated swimming and gymnastics previously; we’ve even played soccer. But those types of classes have thus far been more parent-tot bonding/movement classes rather than team sports.
The muppets are now registered for the AYSO Fall Season – U5 players in Region 64. (Translated: we paid the fees so the boys can play the soccer equivalent of t-ball, colloquially known as bunch ball.)
AYSO is a fully volunteer organization. This means that parents must sign up for some sort of job. Sadly, snack shack is not an option for the under 5 set. (Apparently the league wants those kids under adult supervision. Also I don’t think soccer has a snack shack.) So when faced with the checkboxes, I took a deep breath and picked “Team Manager.”
I understand soccer. I grew up playing it. It’s a great sport for those just being introduced to sports. Jon also notes that the boys are natural footballers at heart – given their impressive proclivity to fling themselves to the floor with a dramatic swoon anytime they feel they’ve been wronged.
At our core, we are a baseball family. Well, at this stage anyway – parents are, sons are by default. The boys are of age to start Little League next season (MLB draft-eligible 2030). I plan to see if perhaps the live-blogging events of such games counts as volunteering. Although Jon has a background coaching baseball – he’s coached a 12-year-old club team and several seasons of high school ball – he has sworn up and down he will not coach our kids. I give it two games before we break him.
Because we know the game. Well. It will be much more interesting when it comes to sports I’ll be learning right along with them.
There is a current hockey obsession in the Stream household, affecting all those under 36 inches. Apparently, it is not (as some may think it seems) simply soccer with sticks.
For weeks, Search has had his heart set on going back to the “bucket rink.” He’s quite eloquent in his request: “Mommy, I think maybe we should start with the buckets first so we don’t fall down. Then you hold my hand so I can skate by myself. Then I will play hockey; I will be the shark with a pink hockey stick like Uncle Jeffys.”
Alas, the newly instituted house rule is – if you puke on mommy, no one skates. (That pretty much sums up our weekend.) That evening:
Destroy: Mommy! No baseball! You turn it off now. If we don’t play skating today then we should watch it on TV. You change it.
Me: I’m sorry, no. Is that how you ask?
Destroy: Please we watch hockey?
Search: I think hockey would make me feel better. We can watch and then go play tomorrow.
Me: What have I told you about hitting things with your sticks – Put. It. Down.
Destroy: I’m not hitting. I’m being the hockey Destroy that’s on TV that’s hitting. (There is a professional player that shares Destroy’s given name. This fascinates my little guy.)
But hockey over baseball? It’s almost enough to question the boys’ maternity…
And then there’s basketball, which Search gets excited to play in our backyard. I can just imagine the league associated parental guidance. “Well son, that orange spherical thing? That’s the ball. One can safely assume the goal is to associate it with the basket.” Other than that – I’ve got nothing. Good game, shortie. I love watching you play? (Even Uncle Paul didn’t play basketball and he’s quite literally twice your height.)
Then again, Search has recently begun expressing his desire to try out some new golf sticks. Putt-putt for the whole team! (Lookitmee managing…)