THE VIRGINIAN-PILOT
Copyright (c) 1994, Landmark Communications, Inc.
DATE: Tuesday, November 29, 1994 TAG: 9411290042
SECTION: DAILY BREAK PAGE: E1 EDITION: FINAL
SOURCE: BY CRAIG SHAPIRO, STAFF WRITER
LENGTH: Long : 110 lines
HERE'S WHAT I learned after my first season as Coach.
Rule No. 1: Leave the puppy home.
Kyle, the reason I was spending my Saturdays coaching in Virginia Beach's Neighborhood Youth Soccer League, taught me that. In the second quarter of the first game of the fall season, my 5-year-old son plopped down at midfield and cried when I wouldn't let him come out to play with Sophie, our SPCA special, which was wagging up and down the sidelines.
Rule No. 2: Have fun.
Kyle and his teammates on the Sharks taught me that, too.
Rule No. 3. There is no Rule No. 3.
Which is fine, because F-U-N is what it's about when you've got 15 mostly 5- and 6-year-old boys and girls looking to a coach with no clue except that he last played intramural soccer in college 20 years ago, that it was fun then and that he still gets a giggle out of ``The Bad News Bears.''
Remember that 1976 movie? Walter Matthau was a reluctant, beer-chugging, crabby coach who turned a team of underdog Little Leaguers into contenders. It's a familiar premise, reworked in the past few years in ``The Mighty Ducks,'' ``The Air Up There'' and ``Ladybugs.''
``Little Big League'' (review this page) gives it a twist. An 11-year-old boy inherits the Minnesota Twins, names himself coach and - after a pep talk in which he reminds his players how lucky they are to be in the bigs and that they should forget about winning and just have fun - steers the Twinkies into a pennant race.
Explanation: Spending too much time writing about videos tends to limit your reference points, but life
does imitate art. About the only thing Walter Matthau and I share is temperament, so when the team got together in late August for our first practice, a question flashed through my mind like one of those Stock Exchange tote boards:
What are you doing here? What are you doing here? What are you doing here?
No time to dwell on that. First order of business - team name.
``Lions.''
``Tigers.''
``Bunnies.''
Don't laugh. Bunnies finished second to Sharks by one vote.
Back to that first question.
No matter how inexperienced, no coach goes in unprepared. The NYSL's a well-run, all-volunteer organization that fields thousands of kids of all ages. Those really serious about coaching can take an intensive three-day course that qualifies them to coach high-school-age players.
I had no intention of running any team until I sat down at the Bow Creek Recreation Center to sign Kyle up. I impulsively checked ``coach'' on the part listing how parents might volunteer.
Flash to another question:
Are you nuts? Are you nuts? Are you nuts?
Before the first game, a workshop is held during which board members share tips - things like buy a pair of gloves and you'll have no problem getting a goalie, and make up a lineup card so everyone won't insist on playing forward. We learned some games that teach basic skills - and something to remember: just like you at work, the kids have good and bad days at school and home. You'll be able to tell during practice.
We left with the first commandment of the NYSL: Everyone plays.
And they did, good enough to go 4-1 after five weeks. In one 2-1 squeaker, Kory, a waterbug who never wanted to come out, made a gorgeous pass to Matthew for the win. Bebeto and Romario couldn't have done it better.
Mike snatched up almost every ball that got near the goal. Michelle, at 7 the senior Shark, showed a knack for defense, in goal and playing a solid fullback. Little Taylor had a cannon for a leg; he also dribbled with finesse. Michael, Grayson, Mark, Billy, Lindsay, Lauren and Marcus could start on the front line or play back on defense.
Matthew ran over breathlessly and said, ``I think we're going to tough it out.''
A team was coming together. If we didn't do our ``Goooooo, Sharks!'' cheer right after the game, either Mike Colombrito, who spared me untold anxiety by volunteering to be assistant coach (as did Christine Rose and her team of team mothers), or I heard about it.
A sense of family was developing, too. Danny's parents were going through a rough divorce, and he moved to Phoenix midway through the season. It broke my heart when we hugged goodbye. Four-year-old Christopher made every practice, but after the first game, his mom said he was so shy that he was calling it a season.
The Sharks were getting along with each other so well that practices turned more to monkey business. But not for long. If a few laps didn't stop it, a promise to cut practice early did. All the parents were wonderfully supportive, not a single play-my-kid-or-else attitude.
This was fun.
Thing is, it was fun the next two weeks, too, when we were pasted by bigger 6- and 7-year-olds who had been around the league a few years. Hey, the Sharks got their orange slices at halftime and Ho-Ho's and juice after the game. Everything was cool.
Our final game, a 0-0 tie, put the season into perspective. Wins and losses aren't what it's about. It's this: A beautiful day. Friends on the sideline. Everyone playing hard. Heck, I looked up once in the fourth quarter to see that my own Kyle had charged into the game. And he wasn't even in the lineup.
Scores and standings aren't kept in the NYSL, but a few lucky bounces those last two weeks and the Sharks would have finished 6-3. For the record, our record was 4-3-2.
But 0-9, or 9-0, by anyone's definition, these little guys were winners.
Shoot, I had even gotten used to being called Coach. ILLUSTRATION: GARY C. KNAPP/Staff color photos
Kory Moody gets off a kick, backed up by fellow Shark Matthew Foss.
Below are Sharks Taylor Rose, left, and Kyle Shapiro. Inset is Coach
Craig Shapiro.
by CNB