Under 13. Underwhelmed.

I love football. The one with the round ball that you play with your feet.

(Yes, that would be soccer)

I haven't played comp for a number of years (I think it has almost passed the counting on both hands stage, actually) and college hangover soccer doesn't quite count. I was most disappointed that a city the size of West Bubblefuck doesn't have a women's comp!!!! Incredibly annoying.

So I settle for coaching. Attempting to obtain myself Yet Another Alter Ego... Supercoach.

I have a lovely little team of Under 13 football players, with a wide range of experience (from the rep players to those who have only chased sheep before) and an equally wide range of fitness.
I have been given the gig by myself and so enlisted the help of a Y12 kid - who very soon after was long term suspended for like 2 month and so had to be replaced with another (more reliable) Y12 kid, who shall hence be known as Sidekick (though I'm sure he would hate that moniker (if he even knew what moniker meant)). Sidekick is great with the boys, with just the right amount of carrot and stick (more with the carrot and less with the stick), and it is fantastic when I have taught all day for him to run the Thursday trainings and sort out the team on Saturdays.

Yes of course, I am the most unfit person involved in the team, but they are 13 year old boys, and I am more than twice their age and have more vices than they could poke a stick at, so I am not self conscious about it at all (can't you tell?). They have some wicked skills amongst them, with some kids seeming mild and meek off the field but fiesty demons in shiny shorts on the grass. So their fitness. Needs work.

Those who know me will realise that a Morning Person I am not. And yet. I organised to take the boarders from The Boy Factory on a morning "run" (while I walk the dog) on 2 mornings a week. It started last week on Wednesday. It was fantastic.

Then we went to The Other Boy Factory in Slightly Further East Bubblefuck, and totally trounced their soccer team 5-1, with the boys playing like a proper team, even if it was in teeming freezing rain, with the goal mouth more like a lake than a park.

Saturday's game was a different story, with them NOT listening to game plans. NOT listening to instructions bellowed from the sideline (Alter Ego Supercoach draws heavily from Alter Ego Little Voice). Kicking high balls into fierce winds and failing terribly against the West Bubblefuck Rep Side.

Sidekick gave their arses a good kicking in the half time rant. "I know youse are tired, but if youse aren't going to listen to me, there is plenty of other things I could be doing on a Saturday". The arse kicking worked, and they lifted their game.

And to this morning. I hauled my sorry self out of slumber to take them on a turn around the grounds. Naj (the dog) was delighted as ever. And 2 kids showed.

Disappointment. If it was a colour, I think it would be mustardy. And pale.

I still walked the dog through the autumnal dawn. All the while rehearsing my own arse kicking for tomorrow. Ungrateful little smurfs.