3 more reasons to hate Monday

Much to my immense pleasure and fleeting chagrin, three of my kids are enrolled in five different sessions of two different sports at present. Fortunately, only three of those sports, at the moment, have any sort of practice, and of those three, I am only helping to coach two. And all three of those practices are scheduled for Monday nights, every Monday night, for at least the next 6 weeks.

This poses a much bigger problem for my wife, logistically, since all I really have to do is get to the ones that I'm coaching, which are back to back and in the same location (karma's gonna make me pay for that someday), but it will be problematic for her since she'll have to leave work early to my three little ones picked up and get my 5 year old to basketball practice at the Y by 5:30*. Once that is over she'll get those three fed, then bring my 4 year old to meet me at 7:30 for soccer practice (which starts right as 5th grade basketball practice for my 11 year old, which started at 6, is ending), then take the three kids that aren't my 4 year old home (and sometimes to their dad's house), feed the ones that haven't eaten yet, make sure that they've all got any leftover homework done, and put them to bed. When soccer practice is over, I'll bring the last one home, and she'll probably put him to bed while I eat.

And you thought coaching little kids was tough. If you bump into my wife on any Tuesdays in the next month and a half or so, I'd probably be nice to her if I were you.

* And who schedules practice at 5:30? I'd guess even stay-at-home moms would have a hard time getting kids anywhere at that time, but when you work 45 minutes away from a school that is another 20 minutes away from practice, you just can't work until 5 like Dolly Parton requests.

If this were a buddy cop movie, I'd be too old for this crap

When I was in high school, I was an avid soccer player. In this context, by "avid" I mean that I played a lot, not that I was good. I was blessed to go to a school small enough they couldn't cut people, and by the time I was a senior I was a starter, a captain, and All-Ohio (Academic, anyway).

Anyway, since then, I've largely stopped running (and moving when possible) so I'm a little out of shape. About 2 years ago I answered an online ad for an indoor soccer team needing a goalie. I didn't play goalie (or "keeper" as some "football" snobs call the position) for my high school team but had played a few games in the net for a club team I was on, so I thought it would be a great way to get back into it slowly (as goalies obviously move less than other players).

I bought some shinguards, some cleats, and some gloves, and played for about a year. My team was great, in all fairness, considering some of them were really, REALLY good at soccer. It would have been very easy to get frustrated with me (as I'm barely, BARELY adequate). I had a great time, but didn't get into great shape. After about 6 months I told them to look for another goalie, as I just couldn't commit to the hour every week (I am, after all, a bid-ness man first and foremost). Shortly thereafter they found one, and I enjoyed some much needed time off.

A few weeks ago the team reached back out to me. Apparently after I left they hopped up a division (not surprising since they had a real goalie) and then their new goalie got hurt so they dropped back down a division. As all of them are in average shape, they're perfectly content running all over the field and NOT having people kick things at their heads as hard as possible. Suckers. Anyway, I missed the game (which is a huge contributor to success) so I jumped at the opportunity generated by the injury of my replacement.

Since coming back we've had three games, and we've won all three. It took me a little while to remember the rules, and to get my sea legs back, but this week I was pretty awesome for a thirty-something fat guy playing out of position with a bunch of youngsters who started out better than I am. So I'm having fun.

I'm also painfully, painfully sore. Both wrists are messed up and the first three steps after any period of sitting are sort of half-leaning forward. But I made some great saves, some great drop kicks, and nobody has cussed me out since I came back.

If this is what winning feels like, call me Charlie Sheen.