On Saturday did the wake and jake and scrambled unshowered to neice #3’s soccer game. As I drove up I noticed the 10am game hadn’t started, so I drove over to get a Coke. Came back- game still not on. My sister walked up and asked me-newly woken red eyed, conspiracy theories aboundin’- to ref the game. The delay was that there was no ref for the game, despite the 1/2h wait. There was nowhere to run, but after the initial shock of responsibility, I relaxed. Obv. I’m used to directing the activities of 14 y.o.’s, and especially if it involves soccer. 30sec in, to the 60th and last minute, it was just fun. Ive reffed lots of games in my day, but this was an official game and I waan’t prepared, so…
The game was easy in the first half. I finally had to call a foul only two minutes before half. The second half got kinda rough, and I must admidt that I worried I may have let it get that way by being too permissive. I called more fouls and had to give a yellow card, and the girls calmed down. I’m sure I blew some calls, esp. some out of bounds calls where I mite have given possesion to the wrong team, but everyone was thankful to have a real ref so I just got love. Lots of it too ; the parents who go to the games see me a lot, and there fore they liked seeing ‘one of their own’ helping out on the field.
The game? I really had to concentrate on the game and trying to make the rite calls. It’s a tough amount of concentration needed. My neices team lost 4-0, their first lost. That was about the run of play. The other team was good.
This day also brought up the genetics of the day. Or what I suspect is the genetics. Neice #3’s game was not the only game in town this day. Neice #1, who more than any of them got me into coaching, is one the club team (not N.C.A.A. team) @ Loyola, had a tournament in Evanston. I have rarely missed her games, but I felt it was more important to see the younger ones games. My musings on genetics takes me to wonder if #1, now 18, has passed a point and now its more important to concentrate on the younger one. Although the long drive through the gut of the city may also have been a factor. Either way, here’s hoping #1 doesn’t feel bad now that in terms of soccer playing, there’s a brand new freshman who’s hitting goals just like she did. And no, there’s no sibling rivalry: #1’s been to several of her games and is obv. Proud that her sister is carrying on her legacy.
Finally=
The Good: Choice!
Before going, I quick switched from the Docs’ to the unfittin’ green Addidas to the supple good Didoras= one minute split decisions, each with increasing athleticism in mind, allowed me to play my part on the pitch.
The Bad: No Choice!
No shorts; large black jeans to run around for an hour trying to keep up with seriously competing teenagers. Sweaty ick.
The Ugly: None!
But to complete the theme, my sticky salted hair after an hours sunny running.
The game was easy in the first half. I finally had to call a foul only two minutes before half. The second half got kinda rough, and I must admidt that I worried I may have let it get that way by being too permissive. I called more fouls and had to give a yellow card, and the girls calmed down. I’m sure I blew some calls, esp. some out of bounds calls where I mite have given possesion to the wrong team, but everyone was thankful to have a real ref so I just got love. Lots of it too ; the parents who go to the games see me a lot, and there fore they liked seeing ‘one of their own’ helping out on the field.
The game? I really had to concentrate on the game and trying to make the rite calls. It’s a tough amount of concentration needed. My neices team lost 4-0, their first lost. That was about the run of play. The other team was good.
This day also brought up the genetics of the day. Or what I suspect is the genetics. Neice #3’s game was not the only game in town this day. Neice #1, who more than any of them got me into coaching, is one the club team (not N.C.A.A. team) @ Loyola, had a tournament in Evanston. I have rarely missed her games, but I felt it was more important to see the younger ones games. My musings on genetics takes me to wonder if #1, now 18, has passed a point and now its more important to concentrate on the younger one. Although the long drive through the gut of the city may also have been a factor. Either way, here’s hoping #1 doesn’t feel bad now that in terms of soccer playing, there’s a brand new freshman who’s hitting goals just like she did. And no, there’s no sibling rivalry: #1’s been to several of her games and is obv. Proud that her sister is carrying on her legacy.
Finally=
The Good: Choice!
Before going, I quick switched from the Docs’ to the unfittin’ green Addidas to the supple good Didoras= one minute split decisions, each with increasing athleticism in mind, allowed me to play my part on the pitch.
The Bad: No Choice!
No shorts; large black jeans to run around for an hour trying to keep up with seriously competing teenagers. Sweaty ick.
The Ugly: None!
But to complete the theme, my sticky salted hair after an hours sunny running.
4 comments:
Say, Hilts, does the title of this post, 'Reff Reff', remind you of of that old girlfriend of yours, the one you went to see "Riff Raff" @ the Music Bocks?
Saur Kraut? Yeah, a little. Why'd ask??
Because I can.
You embarrased me, uncle hilts. I will never be able to play with my teamates again, for the shame. You suck and I hate you.
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