People Are Crazy

So my oldest is playing travel soccer this year. He loves the game, and, despite being his father and having an opinion of less than honest objectivity, he is good. He has always been able to boot the heck out the ball with either left or right feet and has great field vision. He is a natural roving midfielder. He should be. His mother played at Colorado State and was a pretty stellar player herself, winning 3 state titles while is high school in Colorado before playing collegiately (clearly nothing rubbing off from me).

That is the extent of my "putting on the crazy". That is my brag about my own child's ability. That is the limit of  my lunacy when it comes to my children and their participation in athletics. That is not the depth of depravity and lunacy which I have seen of late.

It may be that my children are getting older and thus experiencing that transition to more competitive sports from the pleasantries and niceties of rec league. It may be that my town of Camelot has let too many heathens across the border to take up stakes and spread their social plague. It may be that the whole world is just turning on its head as we prepare for the approach of the 4 horsemen. What ever the case, I wanted to relay a more than amusing incident which occurred this past week.

On my son's travel soccer team are some very nice people. They, of course, are part of the kingdom of Camelot, so they live as happy vassals amid the golden spires and streets of our fair community. On our team there are some not so nice people, who when quiet can be tolerated. And, on our team there are some less than savoury characters. Amusingly they are the most vocal (with the least reason to be...vocal). 

One such master of black magic is our team manager. He is passionate about the "beautiful" game - to the point of distraction - and his inability to put a governor on his mouth (as exhibited through his emails) has proven to be a problem for team unity, and, potentially, his physical well-being. After the boys' very first game, this manager (a voluntary position) felt the need to castigate the coach via an email to all the parents. He followed this up with further penning, critiquing the coaching talent and pointing out the short-comings of the team play. This escalated into a name calling debacle with one of the other parents on the team, who requested that her family be removed from the stream of vitriol, and ended with  the husband of the offended family physically threatening the crazy sorcerer of book keeping and logistics (all these emails of accusation and reaction were copied to all the parents on the team).

This is a 3rd grade travel soccer team. The manager's son is not Lionel Messi (though his dad has clearly brain-washed him with hours of Messi's highlight reels, which has not served the lad well). These are young boys who have much to develop by learning and playing different positions (by the way, the manager's son has only played left or right inner, choosing the perceived glory of offense over defense - I feel exactly the opposite about which is the better discipline to play). This is again a case of parents trying to fulfill some sense of long lost prospect of their own talent and inabilities through transference to their children. There is no excuse for this. The boys do not benefit. The team does not benefit. The game does not benefit.

When do we start psychological screening for all those parents who want to be involved, or even watch, their children in athletics?

I think it all comes back to border control. Let's keep Camelot the gleaming beacon of hope, and the Riders of the Apocalypse at bay. Let's take back all the corners of our castle. Let's separate the loonies from the bin.

Until we do, can we all just watch the game and shut the hell up.