Tuesday, September 08, 2015
When we have kids in youth sports, it means we have to suffer impositions. Even if we don’t have extensive travel to deal with, we still have tight schedules, odd meal times, frustrating games, elusive fields, and cranky kids. There are enough aggravations without adding those quirky behaviors and needling intrusions that prevent our days from running happily and efficiently. My own list of pet peeves may align with yours or it may be a complete deviation, but the effect is the same – they irritate us. My list has had some alterations, but the core has been consistent over the years. I wish I were a better person who could simply ignore that which aggravates me, but when I’m at my weakest, when things are topsy-turvy, when I most need some peace, they crop up to vex me.
My strongest pet peeve is children who scream. I’m not talking about the delighted squeals of children at play, chasing one another through the yard or riding piggy back on their fathers. I’m not complaining about the happy yelps when something special occurs or there’s a wonderful gift. I’m talking about those ear-splitting shrieks that come out of nowhere at the restaurant or movie theater either to get attention or because a child’s been denied something. When they’re under 2, it might be excused if parents at least made an effort to stifle the outbursts or remove the child from the gathering, but that’s rarely the case. Which is probably why kids as old as 9 or 10 are heard screeching unrestrained. They make my ears hurt, which makes my head hurt, which puts me in a foul mood. I find myself wanting to join them in their primeval expressions just to relieve myself of the pent up frustrations. Surprisingly, I can bear crying children. Crying seems somehow warranted in many circumstances. But screaming does not unless we’re all at a Wes Craven film festival.
You can find many of those squealing kids in fast food restaurants, which are also heavily frequented by us soccer families looking for a quick, inexpensive, and familiar meal. We all know the menus by heart. However, when there is a line to order, there always seems to be a mother and child who stand in line visiting and when they reach the counter suddenly look to the menu as if it morphed into an entirely foreign presentation. They hem and haw, ask the clerk questions, and take time to consider the answers. Finally they order, change their order, add to it, subtract from it, and then call to the other six members covertly lurking at a table to get their orders. At last everyone has agreed upon the size, flavors, and condiments for their meals, but naturally the mother also realizes she left her wallet in the car, which leads to a panicked toss of the keys to one of the kids while she holds her place in the line. Personally, I think if an order takes more than two minutes, the customer should get a small electric shock every three seconds. I will gladly administer it. I have learned, however, that there is no active or passive aggressive action on my part that will speed the process along because these people are oblivious. I can feel the tension of those behind me and I’m well-aware of their eye rolls, sighs, toe taps, and OMGs, which only heightens my own tension as if I’m responsible to solve this situation because I am closest to the source. These customers have to be the ones who also drive 50 mph in front of me in the left lane on every trip I take, another pet peeve. I shout out to no one in particular “It’s a passing lane,” which of course does nothing. Where’s a shrieking child when you need one?
Which brings me to my third pet peeve. I can’t do much about traffic, and I certainly drove in my share of it, four or five days a week in rush hour through Chicago to get Robbie to his soccer practices in Romeoville and Naperville. There was no escape. I just had to creep for scores of miles bumper to bumper. Although I really hate traffic, it can’t qualify as a pet peeve since no human has the power to resolve it. But I can talk about being assaulted during those slow drives by the number of ridiculously arrogant, occasionally profane, and profoundly rude vanity plates and bumper stickers I have had to read. The vanity plates that are clever and even self-deprecating provide a welcome breath of fresh air. A van with a teacher union sticker had a plate that read MYDG8IT. Cleverness is not the operative word for the plate that read 2BUSY. Really? You have a monopoly on having to juggle life? I think every soccer parent, heck every parent, would qualify for that plate. In my own, albeit non-scientific, study I have concluded that doctors have the most egotistical plates. I have seen ICUREM, IFXBONS, IFXHEDS (I wasn’t sure if this was a neurologist, a psychiatrist or a yacht worker), MRSMD (come on – get your own life!), BESTMD, and TOPDOC. There are the “My child is a (insert school) honor student” stickers, which always seem to be exclusively for elementary and middle schools. And the counter opinion stickers “My kid can beat up your honor student,” as if the world can only be categorized as brain or brawn. “World’s Best…” whatever seems to be a favorite, although I did love the World’s Best Home Appraiser because it was so unique and got me wondering was the occupant the best because he or she gave tough or lax appraisals? Best for the bank would not be best for the home buyer. The strangest juxtaposition was a huge boat of a gas-guzzling, environmentally corrupt Hummer with the vanity plate OLDHIPY. The plate MNYMAKR seems more appropriate for that vehicle, but was on a Porsche, so it still fits to rub our faces in the message. The obscene stickers we’ve all seen, primarily on semis and pick-ups (not stereotyping when it’s true). I can’t repeat them here, but they involve sexism, racism, and alarmism with either language, images, or both. Most fall under the “what were they thinking” first when they bought these decals and then when they actually applied them. Most lack cleverness, nuance, and intelligence which explains why the same ones show up dozens of times during a three hour drive – mass production substituting as wit. When my boys learned to read I got plenty of questions when stopped behind one of these traveling billboards for poor taste, most of which I didn’t think I would need to answer until they were at least teenagers. On the opposite end was a plate GDBHVOR, which I am assuming was a released convict or a nun or a released convict nun. Not to be too picky, but I really hate vanity plates I can’t decode. They occupy way too much of my brain power and distract from my defensive driving. I’m thinking I should create my own plate with random letters and numbers just to confuse the people following me.
My final pet peeve is people who put down soccer. I don’t expect everyone will be a fan, although the two most popular sports in the world are soccer followed by cricket. Not being a fan doesn’t mean you have to be nasty. In July, Miller Park, home of the Milwaukee Brewers, was turned into a soccer venue for a friendly match between Newcastle and Club Atlas. When the Brewers catcher, Jonathan Lucroy, was asked about soccer he replied, “I don’t much like it. I like a game where there’s some action and some scoring.” Really? Baseball is my second-favorite spectator sport, but I will readily admit that there are huge stretches of time when nothing is happening: inning breaks, pitching changes, call disputes, injury time-outs, and just plain slow play. Football stops every 3 to 10 seconds for a huddle or time out or an injury, yet no one would accuse it of not being an action sport. Do I hate baseball games that end up 1-0 or 2-1 because they lack scoring? No, because I appreciate the many facets of the sport that lead to that score: amazing fielding, strong pitching, nail-biting bases loaded and nobody out, and cutting down the runner at second. An athlete like Lucroy should at least value the skill behind the sport and certainly not accuse soccer of lacking action, which he can’t defend. Few sports run virtually uninterrupted for 45 minutes. Soccer is drama from the close strikes, to the contention on the field, and even to the “injury” flops. People have their favorite sports and teams for their own reasons, but it doesn’t have to be at the expense of the reputation of other sports. When I’m at a party or the pool and I mention my sons play soccer, I hate being met with a superior sneer of, “I hate soccer. It’s boring,” as if that should be the final verdict on the subject. Sure it might be boring to some people, especially if they don’t understand the level of training and skill required to play the sport, but that doesn’t make it a bad choice for either a player or a fan. Baseball is boring to many people around the world. Cricket is pretty boring to most Americans. Yet these sports also generate lots of fan enthusiasm and interest. We live in a bubble here in the States because professional sports is big money and soccer is down low on that scale. We equate profits with likeability. Ask the NFL how well their European League did. How many Germans know who Alex Rodriguez is, or Aaron Rodgers for that matter? I just want some respect for the sport my kids chose to play and still enjoy playing and watching. That’s a pet peeve that might actually get resolved in time.