I-hate-soccer time has arrived early this year. An old friend, it normally knocks on my door in late November when we have our first underwater practice in the winter rain, and my fellow coaches have all skipped town for the tropics or developed life-changing man-colds.
Today was our worst result in a couple of years. A royal 8-1 shagging by the North Vancouver Ambush. It wasn’t a game -it was an embarrassment. And to think, I could’ve stayed at home and cleared the garden of dog turds. What was I thinking?
Half time saw us 5-1 down. My goalie threw in the towel, and I can’t blame him with the ass-hattery his D-line was inflicting on him with their mistakes. The second half was a bit better, but it’s all relative. When you’re 5-1 down, conceding another 3 in the last 45 minutes just means there’s slightly less sand in the Vaseline tub.
Seventeen boys showed up for us so we had six subs. That’s a good thing, right? Actually, it’s not. Our guys tend to play better when we have one, or maybe two, subs at most: everyone has to step up and do their part and there’s nowhere to hide.
With six subs, it’s hard to develop a consistent flow to the team game. It’s rec league soccer after all, so the boys are supposed to get equal playing time. The result is a lot of line juggling which always leaves some boys playing out of position. Throw in losing our key mid-fielder to tonsillitis, and the result is an 8-1 jolly-rogering.
And I HATE losing. Which is why I hate soccer early this year.