This here digi-tome has mentioned my efforts at coaching. I took the Mighty U13s to third 2 years ago, and last year the same boys (or mostly) went down 1-0 in the GF. This year I have taken on another squad of Mighty U13s, a new assistant supercoach and a different set of strengths and weaknesses. So far so good, one win, one loss, one draw. The team hasn't really played to its potential yet, but I have faith that they will finish the season strongly.
But even more importantly than my sideline encouragements and masterminding puppetry of young footballers is my own return to the park.
Moving back to West Bubblefuck four years ago, I was devastated to learn that there was no women's football competition. I think the words I actually spake (I'm teaching Shakespeare at the moment, and it is affecting my vocab) were "What kind of a backwards town am I living in?!" At the end of each game of coaching for the last two years I have ended up bubbling with unspent adrenaline, and each week I made a small curse (silently or otherwise) that there was no comp I could play in to spend the pent up energy. Sure, I could play with the blokes, but my serious lack of fitness kind of embarrassed me out of that.
This year, the West Bubblefuck District Football Association has finally got a 6 a side comp off the ground. Just.
In the last two months I have been palpable in my desperation to find players. I emailed parents, I mentioned it in almost every conversation "Do you know anyone that might be interested in playing women's soccer?" West Bubblefuck has a really great culture of sport - a thriving netball comp, a really successful basketball comp, hockey, tennis, austag AND touch, indoor mixed soccer, cricket and netball... West Bubblefuck women play a number of sports, and tend to keep playing them until their bodies betray them. As mine may well currently be doing.
Yes I have been getting my competitive kicks with the Flames on the baskeball court for a little over a year. But this has led to various joints of mine deciding they will no longer operate at 100%.
Betrayal.
But I have loved the round ball game dearly for over 15 years, and it is where my sporting heart truly lies. Despite the fact that Sparky despises the game in an unworldly kind of way. So when I managed to get 7 ladies together, I contacted a club and poached a few more players, helped to coordinate a SECOND team and became a part of a women's football comp in my backwards town.
But then of course, not everyone could make it this week.
I showed up with 3 other girls, hoping desperately for some juniors to help us out. We found one. And then sneakily poached one of the keepers from our opposition.
Since I dinged my shoulder a month ago, I haven't graced the basketball court. I haven't been to body balance, or to the gym at all. I may have walked the dog a few times, but nothing that was really strenuous. Within three minutes of kick off, I was scraping the bottom of my lungs for breath. Turns out, a complete lack of exercise leads to a seriously diminished fitness. Who knew?
Betrayal.
I was delighted to be playing a shortened game. 30 minute halves instead of 45. Six a side instead of 11. Half field. As it was, I was wheezing and doing so much field walking that if I was COACHING me, I would have given myself a total blast at half time. Imagine if I had played the real mccoy? At the end of the hour, I was already aching. My stupid basketballed ankle was moaning, my niggly basketballed shoulder was whining (from the throw ins).
Betrayal.
As I limped to my car, my calves started to seize, and the burn set in to my quads.
Betrayal.
Delayed onset muscle soreness - which the professionals call DOMS, but I like to call Second Day Syndrome - will ensure that tomorrow I will be tight and achy. And even worse on Monday I will find it difficult to walk.
Betrayal once more.
But despite the fact that my body is kicking me back, and despite the fact that my team went down 6-0, and despite the fact that half a dozen dudes from The Boy Factory sat on the side line as a witness to my defeat (against the team in black and white, and against my body) setting my humliation up for further discussion over the course of the week, I had such a brilliant time.
I just hope I can get my body to work with me a little better next week. The South West Bubblefuck Womens Green Machine has started its epic journey and I hope it is long and fruitful and rich in great football.
But even more importantly than my sideline encouragements and masterminding puppetry of young footballers is my own return to the park.
Moving back to West Bubblefuck four years ago, I was devastated to learn that there was no women's football competition. I think the words I actually spake (I'm teaching Shakespeare at the moment, and it is affecting my vocab) were "What kind of a backwards town am I living in?!" At the end of each game of coaching for the last two years I have ended up bubbling with unspent adrenaline, and each week I made a small curse (silently or otherwise) that there was no comp I could play in to spend the pent up energy. Sure, I could play with the blokes, but my serious lack of fitness kind of embarrassed me out of that.
This year, the West Bubblefuck District Football Association has finally got a 6 a side comp off the ground. Just.
In the last two months I have been palpable in my desperation to find players. I emailed parents, I mentioned it in almost every conversation "Do you know anyone that might be interested in playing women's soccer?" West Bubblefuck has a really great culture of sport - a thriving netball comp, a really successful basketball comp, hockey, tennis, austag AND touch, indoor mixed soccer, cricket and netball... West Bubblefuck women play a number of sports, and tend to keep playing them until their bodies betray them. As mine may well currently be doing.
Yes I have been getting my competitive kicks with the Flames on the baskeball court for a little over a year. But this has led to various joints of mine deciding they will no longer operate at 100%.
Betrayal.
But I have loved the round ball game dearly for over 15 years, and it is where my sporting heart truly lies. Despite the fact that Sparky despises the game in an unworldly kind of way. So when I managed to get 7 ladies together, I contacted a club and poached a few more players, helped to coordinate a SECOND team and became a part of a women's football comp in my backwards town.
But then of course, not everyone could make it this week.
I showed up with 3 other girls, hoping desperately for some juniors to help us out. We found one. And then sneakily poached one of the keepers from our opposition.
Since I dinged my shoulder a month ago, I haven't graced the basketball court. I haven't been to body balance, or to the gym at all. I may have walked the dog a few times, but nothing that was really strenuous. Within three minutes of kick off, I was scraping the bottom of my lungs for breath. Turns out, a complete lack of exercise leads to a seriously diminished fitness. Who knew?
Betrayal.
I was delighted to be playing a shortened game. 30 minute halves instead of 45. Six a side instead of 11. Half field. As it was, I was wheezing and doing so much field walking that if I was COACHING me, I would have given myself a total blast at half time. Imagine if I had played the real mccoy? At the end of the hour, I was already aching. My stupid basketballed ankle was moaning, my niggly basketballed shoulder was whining (from the throw ins).
Betrayal.
As I limped to my car, my calves started to seize, and the burn set in to my quads.
Betrayal.
Delayed onset muscle soreness - which the professionals call DOMS, but I like to call Second Day Syndrome - will ensure that tomorrow I will be tight and achy. And even worse on Monday I will find it difficult to walk.
Betrayal once more.
But despite the fact that my body is kicking me back, and despite the fact that my team went down 6-0, and despite the fact that half a dozen dudes from The Boy Factory sat on the side line as a witness to my defeat (against the team in black and white, and against my body) setting my humliation up for further discussion over the course of the week, I had such a brilliant time.
I just hope I can get my body to work with me a little better next week. The South West Bubblefuck Womens Green Machine has started its epic journey and I hope it is long and fruitful and rich in great football.
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