I coach a little boys soccer team,
made up of young players all between,
ten and eleven years of age,
they play because soccer is a page,
in this new young life they are beginning and playing sports is so giving,
in this act as they grow towards manhood and the trials and tribulations of Fatherhood, and the fact of the matter is, it teaches them more than just playing,
things like discipline, team work, friendship and working,
with kids that we all hope will remain,
friends in this journey called life, the same.
They come in all sizes from Parents who,
have the health and the welfare of their families to,
want them to play this beautiful game,
in the hopes that it will give them pleasure,
or maybe its to give the Parent’s more leisure,
and for them to have three hours a week without the kids under their feet.
On the other hand,
the poor old coach has to deal with kids he cannot reproach,
in any way as a Parent would but to resort to sprints and running track
in the hope that these kids give something back.
Ah, the joys of being a soccer coach,
to a group of young kids who’s only hope of making the team is to work extra hard,
and to follow instruction with nary a word,
even though tired they may be they must make the effort or they will find,
the bench is the only place for their kind.
I have to say that this particular group,
a bunch of young kids who like to boot,
the ball very hard even though the coach says,
“Hey, what is that you are doing, I want you to learn different skills, lets start passing”.
The kids run around in different degrees,
of skills for all to see who is good who is poor and maybe who should,
take up golf and go on the tour,
with a hope of winning more money and fame,
than ever they will get from this beautiful game.
Just kidding of course as my job as coach,
is to teach them to play regardless of skill,
to give them something other than drills,
so when game day comes around,
they will each be ready to have their say for the thirty minutes on game day.
The names of this particular group,
are Jack and Andrew, Dominic and Hank, Ian and Taylor, Dante and Frank.
Wait a minute though, Frankie is really not on the team,
but has two brothers and is so keen that he practises with them as much as he can,
and I have to say, holds his own but is not alone as both Leo and Dante both are as big,
or should I say size does not matter as skill and strength make up for the latter.
Andrew and Dominic are twins,
Brothers to Frankie who it seems,
can tell them apart, not like the coach whose only hope of getting it right
Is the color of their shoes, one black, one white.
It used to be that one would wear a shirt or socks of a different pair
in color, but that would not work on game day
as both were dressed the same way.
So their mother, Cristina Mauro,
did come up with a means to end the sorrow,
that the coach was having because his mind was narrow
as she recognised his plight by making each of them wear a different shoe
one pair of black, the other of white
The remaining players in no particular order,
Alex and Chris who look very similar,
enough it seems to have their coach mistake identification,
when things good and bad need recrimination.
There are two Andrews on the team,
the difference of which it seems,
I am aware,
lucky for me, my words are familiar to the one who it is I am trying to address,
the one it is who needs to suppress
the chatter that comes at inappropriate times especially when the coach is saying his lines.
Three other players are yet to be named, Ali and Miguel are two of the three,
and lastly the tallest player of all is called Norman, better known as Normie.
A fun group of boys it has to be said.
They chatter a lot and have no dread of me.
For this I am grateful for every one could be my great, great-grandson.
That is the beauty of this particular group on one hand the youth and the other the Grump.
That is what makes coaching so interesting that human kind generations apart can come together to learn the art of playing this beautiful game.