Check out the weekly blogs

Online education from US Youth Soccer

Clubhouse

US Youth Soccer Intagram!

Check out the national tournament database

Sports Authority

Marketplace

Wilson Trophy Company

Happy Family

Nesquik

Capri Sun

Active Family Project

Active Family Project

Olive Garden

Play Positive Banner

Print Page Share

Parents Blog

Susan Boyd blogs on USYouthSoccer.org every Monday.  A dedicated mother and wife, Susan offers a truly unique perspective into the world of a "Soccer Mom". 

 

Hindsight is the best predictor

Susan Boyd

Predicting the future could be a gift or could be a curse. I'm a bit of a control freak, so I'm glad I can't predict the future because it would drive me crazy that I couldn't control what was going to happen. Then again, why couldn't I? I mean if I knew you were going to be hit by a bus crossing the street on Friday at 10:03 a.m., why wouldn't I send you an email or give you a call so you could avoid your fate? But then I wouldn't really be predicting the future because that particular future didn't happen. So I guess I'd be more like a manipulator of the future, but I couldn't do anything with the future if I couldn't predict it first. And if two future catastrophes intersected, how would I decide who to warn first? This whole future predicting and future manipulating might be too big a responsibility for me, especially since I tend to procrastinate. You can tell I think about this a lot. 

As parents we spend much of our time trying to predict our children's future. If they are going to be brilliant students then we need to prepare for college. If they are going to want to become a dancer or a pianist we have to spring for lessons. If they show signs of athleticism we need to decide which sport would be best and then pay for the training. For all those predictions, we probably only get about 2 percent right and the rest of life just intrudes on us unexpectantly.   Despite those odds we go to great lengths to get the future right. We listen to the advice of teachers, coaches, talk show hosts, and news pundits. We quiz our friends, maybe even our own parents, and we read a lot of "how to" books. But how are we ever going to know for sure?

Our oldest daughter pursued dance with a passion. When she was 13 she brought us four applications for performing arts high schools and asked for the application fees. She auditioned all over the country and selected a school in Champaign-Urbana, Illinois where she danced well enough to be looked at by three major ballet companies. And then in the spring of her first year she announced that she didn't want to dance any longer. Who would have predicted that? We went from dance being the left, right and center of her life to dance being an asterisk. She did dance team in high school and she still occasionally takes classes mostly for fitness, but that's about it. Any careful planning we did as parents to make sure there was money set aside for dance lessons, dance academy, and audition trips dissolved into the usual life of a teenager's parent – teaching her to drive a car, going to watch her dance team performances, buying a prom dress, and attending her graduation. 

Certainly the future can be disrupted by cataclysmic events, but mercifully most of us just have the usual mundane trek to the frontiers of life. No matter what we expect to happen, life has a way of throwing plenty of curve balls. Preparing for what might happen isn't the same thing as engineering what will happen. Yet I see plenty of parents concentrating on the latter. We all know, and we may well be, one of those parents always talking to the coach, advocating for his/her child, pushing the kid at every opportunity, and talking in the future tense too often: you will play Division 1 soccer; you will make three goals . . . as if the future were something negotiable. Our kids don't usually think in terms of the future except in an immediate and selfish way, hoping that Mike will ask her to the prom or planning to go to a concert. That's why admonishments about the effect certain behaviors will have on their futures just sail over their heads. How can anyone possibly think about what college to attend or what career to choose when there are more pressing issues such as watching "Lost" or going to the same party as the cool kids. So while we are carefully crafting our child's future, he or she is concentrating on what to wear Friday night. 

Kids naturally don't want to disappoint their parents. So when they see Dad or Mom so strenuously working an angle to make something happen for the future, like making the traveling team or starring in the school play, they may go along for the journey even though it's not where they want to go. We have the experience of regrets in our life which informs our vision of what we want for our kids. But that regret may have taught us the lesson of working harder or not being short-sighted. It's hard to stand by and watch our children take a path that can't lead to what we believe is the ideal future for them. But how do we really know? Robbie absolutely refused to take AP classes in high school even though he was recommended for several. His reasoning was that he wanted to insure two things: that he kept his grades up and that he didn't feel under too much pressure. I thought he was cutting off his chances of getting into the college he wanted and that he was selling himself short. I wanted to spare him the regret of missing a great opportunity because he closed a door too early. Amazingly, he understood what it meant but he said he could cope with not getting everything he wanted because that would be less stress than fighting against the top students in his class for grades.

We have children because we believe in the future and all the good it can provide. But we also have to accept that the future is a wide-open territory with lots of options that will be good. We can highlight some of the options, and we can push our kids towards those options, but we also need to give them the freedom to mold their own future free of our restrictions and manipulation.  Certainly we can provide opportunity, advice, and gentle nudges, but we shouldn't try to craft the future for them. Kids who fight for themselves usually end up stronger and more capable. Kids, whose parents engineer their successes for them, may end up being the starting forward on a team, but ultimately don't possess the temperament and skills to fight for that spot in college or for that big promotion at work. They grew dependent upon Mom and Dad to make things happen and now can only complain that nothing good ever happens anymore. Robbie is presently playing soccer at his top choice for college. His decision not to take AP classes didn't hurt him, although it might have. That's the thing about the future. We can't predict it; we can only analyze it in hindsight. 
 

I Swear

Susan Boyd

The other day my grandsons were whispering in the kitchen, which all parents know is an immediate red flag. "I didn't know you knew that word!" followed by an eruption of giggles. There they were, holding my iPhone and staring at the screen. This couldn't be good. In place of their names, someone had typed a profanity in the "high score" section of six different Disney games on my iPhone. Needless to say, it was four letters long, began with the sixth letter of the alphabet, and had absolutely no relation to anyone's name. I spent about twenty hours playing "Tigger Bounce," "Cars Pinball" and four other games in order to earn 10 high scores in each and eliminate the offensive entry. I could feel Walt turning over in his grave.
           
How does it happen that those two boys, ages five and nine at the time, not only know such a word, but feel comfortable enough using it? They have grown up in a protected environment. Their parents don't swear and carefully monitor their TV, movie, and internet interactions. They send them to Catholic schools. But this insidious blight still managed to stain my phone. Naturally many of their school mates have older siblings who love showing off their language bravado which trickles down and gets translated as "cool".  It's also hard to avoid that table of college kids next to you at the restaurant who despite the expense of their education apparently don't have any idea that English is a language rich in adjectives other than the one they use endlessly. 

I'm sure that explains a great deal of it, but I've also seen a troubling acceptance of swearing in youth sports.  Fans, coaches, referees, and players forget that the language they use doesn't just exist in a bubble surrounding their field. It travels to ears that shouldn't be assaulted. A few years ago I was at a planning commission meeting to support our soccer club's request to extend its operating hours, and I listened to neighbors complaining about coaches' language drifting across the fields to assail their ears as they sat outside with their families for a barbeque. I've parked at a practice only to exit my car to a barrage of expletives directed at players barely twelve years old standing just a few steps away from players ten and under. Everyone has a story about the explosion of language during a coach and referee confrontation. And we can't forget the fans who often forget themselves and use inappropriate language.

We had an incident at State Cup where our goal keeper, mad at himself for some bad play, shouted in frustration a profanity. The referee ran up and showed him the yellow at which point he exploded. The referee gave him a few seconds to vent during which time players, coaches and parents were shouting to the keeper to "Shut the ____ up!" and other pithy admonishments. If the swear words had been paper plates thrown on the field we would have required a bull dozer to clean up. Finally everyone calmed down, the referee warned him that another outburst would lead to a second yellow, and the teams returned to play. The next punt by our keeper went out of bounds, he screamed at the top of his lungs the very word that would insure he would be kicked out, and the crowd again went wild with their vulgarities. The players were thirteen.   As the keeper trudged off the field to the sidelines the coach shouted, "If you ever ____ do that again, I'll ____ kick you off the team," showing once again why the adage "do as I say" was invented.

As an English professor, I really hate hearing this descent into crudity. I know it has always been around, and I also know that at the right moment, in the right context, it can be used to great effect. But generally swearing only proves how limited we are in our imaginations when it comes to voicing an opinion. Dipping into the well of profanity at the first spike of anger means that we've already gone to the extreme and now have no further verbal punctuation to underscore our point. So we tend to use the same word over and over just getting louder and louder in hopes it will intensify the worth of our stance with vociferous repetition. We really should demand more of ourselves and also demand more of those to whom we entrust our children. We'd never tolerate a teacher talking to students the way a number of coaches talk to our players. Nor would we tolerate parents or pupils using rough language. Why do we accept it on the pitch?

Experienced professional coaches have played in adult leagues and coached adult players meaning they are used to adult language. We all tend to turn a deaf ear to their saltier expletives because we feel grateful to have such strong coaching for our children. But we shouldn't. There's a level of decorum and civility that must exist in youth sports for as long as possible. If coaches get away with swearing during practice then it's no wonder their players get yellow cards for swearing at the referees during a game. If referees sprinkle their remarks to a coach with a few bombs, then how can they turn around and issue those yellow cards to the players for language? Swearing has become the knee-jerk reaction to nearly any situation, even positive ones. We express ourselves without any restriction because we don't think about what we're saying or the company in which we're saying it. We've become immune to how sharp, insulting, and ugly swearing can be.

Hopefully we can all agree to police our own language and refuse to tolerate bad language from those to whom we entrust our children. We should be capable enough to control our verbal outbursts. While some people may not see a problem with swearing, dismissing it as "that's the way it is," most parents don't want their kids introduced to that language so young and then viewing it as normal and acceptable discourse. And as parents, coaches, and referees we have a responsibility to respect that expectation. It's really a pretty simple thing to stop swearing if we're willing to be accountable for what comes out of our mouths. We just need to swear to do it!
 

Money for nothing

Susan Boyd

Imagine receiving an e-mail that announces you can "Run your own soccer business!" Suddenly all those years of buying new cleats on a Monday and having them be too small by a Friday or learning that the World Cup ball you had imported from Germany has been kicked into the Menomonee River canal and is now drifting to Lake Michigan or being told that all soccer fees would be covered by the club meant a few soccer fees would be covered by the club now would no longer stress you out because you could be running a soccer business generating an income rather than sucking out a life's savings. Like all get-rich-quick schemes, this one has a few hiccups, but it was certainly enticing enough for me to not only read the e-mail clear through, but to actually click on a few links to learn more.

Here's the deal. A national soccer organization sponsors a toddler soccer training program, and my job, if I decided to seize the opportunity, would be to sell the program to existing establishments in my district to incorporate into their curricula. It could be schools, churches, day care centers, or soccer clubs. The various groups provide the facilities, while I provide the coaches, and the kids register and pay through the national sponsor. All of this sounds wonderful except for the money part. The kids pay $10 per hour of training and there's a coach to player ratio of 1:10. This means, if my math is right, that per hour I am collecting a maximum of $100. Out of that a coach has to be paid, marketing costs must be deducted, I'm certain that there are insurance fees, and the national organization will collect a percentage. If your profit is even $50, you'll need a minimum of 10 full classes every week of the year to scrape by at $24,000 a year.  You'll also need to be aggressive since you are competing with soccer clubs each having their own Mighty Mites, Micro Soccer, Kiddie Kixx, and Goal Gang toddler programs, so finding an open market might be difficult. A long time ago clubs figured out that attracting kids in the two to five-year-old range meant keeping them for their recreational soccer programs and possibly for their select programs, so they'll guard those recruits tenaciously.

The truth is that youth soccer isn't a money-making venture in the United States. Despite what you may believe after writing that check for spring soccer fees, no one in youth soccer is getting rich. I worked as a club administrator for four years and was paid for three of those years with enough to qualify me for food stamps if that was my only income. Then I moved up to the state association where I made the same salary only now I had to pay for a commute.   In effect what I earned being an administrator I paid back to a club as a soccer mom. I'm all for soccer being promoted at all ages, so I like the idea of a national organization trying to market a program for toddlers. They make no bones that their opportunity is more about being a salesperson than being a soccer person. A real go-getter in a virgin market might actually be able to sell the program to enough groups to nail down a living for awhile. But eventually you'll have to find something else.

I wish I could figure out a way to make money off of soccer. I certainly have invested enough time, attention, emotion, and money to hope for some kind of payoff. But I'm no different than any other soccer parent out there struggling to pay for uniforms, equipment, travel, fees, more travel, and all the "just because" monetary requests that come our way. I wrote a blog a few years back where I tallied all I had spent on soccer. I figured out that if I had put that money in treasury bonds I would have been able to easily pay for an Ivy League education for my sons. So we have to accept that the money we spend on soccer we spend because of the intangibles such as family togetherness, good health, fun, pride, and staying out of trouble (although that one doesn't always pan out). I am most definitely not a salesperson, so this income producer would never work out for me, but hopefully there are some bright, aggressive young people out there who can recognize an emerging market and make hay for a few years.   As for me, I'll just have to keep looking for that pot at the end of the rainbow which won't be filled with gold soccer balls.
 

It's just not fair

Susan Boyd

Yesterday I picked up my 2006 VW Jetta GLI from my mechanic for the third time in six weeks. That's just the latest in a series of mechanic visits for this car which we've owned two years and for around 36,000 miles. Problems include(d) a burned out clutch (after 6000 miles), the evaporation system, the cam shaft, the fuel pump, the ignition coils, constant and unresolved electrical issues, a key that no longer locks or opens the doors remotely, dashboard illumination working only fleetingly, the right front parking light that has to be replaced every three months, and no AM radio in the car (meaning no Brewer's games). Naturally according to VW none of this is under warranty except the latest mechanical failure on the manual fuel pump – which reared its ugly head 206 miles after the warranty expired. Long discussions with VW customer care yielded nothing more than apologies and the offer of a $750 credit for me to buy or lease a new VW! That's like saying "I know the last batch of pizza sent you all to the hospital, but we'd like to offer you a $5 coupon to get more." After over $5000 spent in repairs in two years, we're ready to sell – anyone interested? I can offer no assurances and obviously no warranty, but I will knock off $750 from the sale price. That's got to be as good as buying it directly from VW.

While I can stomp my foot, hold my breath, and mutter "It's just not fair" the fact is I've run into The Rules. Rules exist for many reasons – to insure safety, to protect one party's interest, to provide a framework for conducting business and social responsibilities, to mitigate lawsuits, and to give referees something to do and fans something to shout about – but rules can't create fairness. This fact doesn't stop people from expecting fairness especially when it comes to youth sports. As one with lots of experience with rules, I can vouch for their inherent unfairness in many cases. For example, at the Under-14 US Youth Soccer State Championship Bryce's team was in the finals. Bryce had played a great game, stopping every potential goal. Unfortunately the opposing GK was equally adept. Near the end of the game, a blasting shot from the opponents deflected off the crossbar, sailed straight up into the air, and while everyone was doing pirouettes in the box trying to locate the ball, it descended onto the forearm of Bryce's teammate. The ref declared a hand ball in the box and awarded the team a PK. Despite Bryce going the right direction and actually getting his fingers on the ball, it crossed the line and proved to be the winning goal. Was that fair? No way. Did it follow the rules? Absolutely since calling a hand ball is at the discretion of the referee.

That kind of agony can be found at tryouts where dozens of rules won't help when your son or daughter is cut from the team of friends he or she has been on for three years. How often have we asked either ourselves or out loud "What does that kid have that my kid doesn't have?" Or "Why should that kid from outside of our town get to be on the team and my kid who has been loyal gets uninvited?" Anyone who actually reads a club's rules about tryouts will read a rule patterned along these lines: The coaches have the final say about who makes the team and who doesn't. That decision is made at the coaches' discretion and is based on which of the players coaches feel will make the best fit and provide the best chance at team success. That rule overrides loyalty, friendship, and potential hurt feelings. The ephemeral quality known as talent absolutely trumps every bit of quantifiable fairness. 

The "what ifs" of life guarantee that no rule is fair. When I'm not writing blogs I'm a college writing teacher. Every semester I design a syllabus which sets forth the guidelines for issues such as grades, absences, assignment deadlines, and extra credit. I can guarantee that my first hour of class is spent listening to the "what ifs" of the students because they have located a loophole in my "rules" which doesn't account for whatever event they feel challenges the fairness of the class. I think I could put down as my guidelines "everyone will get an A, you can miss all the class you want, assignments are due whenever, and extra credit points will be awarded for breathing" and I would still have hands raised, "what if I do all the work – can't I get a higher grade?" or "what if I die?" or "what if I have someone else do my work?"  We've all stood at a team meeting and either witnessed or been a part of the "what i" discussion. "What if my son has an ACT test during a scheduled game?" "What if I can't find white socks with red stripes? Can I just get white socks?" "What if my daughter can't come to Tuesday practices?"   "What if we can't afford to go to a tournament in Florida?" "What if piano lessons don't end in time to get to practice right at 5:30 p.m.?" Even Hammurabi couldn't write a set of rules to fairly cover all those circumstances.

My favorite story about fairness occurred with my husband and our youngest son when Bruce was the coach of Robbie's 10 year old baseball team. There were no umpires, so the coaches served as such, and on this particular occasion Bruce was the home plate ump. Robbie hit a long ball which was bobbled several times in the outfield. Robbie, who can lay claim to great speed, rounded the bases quickly, salivating over the possibility of an inside the park home run. As he neared home plate, the opposing team finally scooped up the ball and threw it into home. Robbie crossed the plate, the catcher caught the ball, tagged Robbie, and Bruce shouted, "Out!" Robbie was clearly safe. Both teams knew he was safe. The parents knew he was safe. There are satellite photos showing he was safe. But Bruce, not wanting to show favoritism, saw him out, so out he was. The rules in baseball state that the umpire is always right even if he is your dad. There is nothing like the stone cold silence of a 10 year old on a car ride home continuing through dinner into breakfast the next morning to make you question the very nature of fairness.

When we run into the immoveable force of The Rules, we quickly lose our innocence. We learn that rules can't insure fairness because they favor one point of view, and in many cases that's not ours. All we can do is take a deep breath and hope that the next time the scales will tip in our favor. It's also a lesson we need to teach our children. Things won't always go their way and no amount of rules can prevent disappointments. In the end, each unfair circumstance eventually fades in the face of successes which will probably elicit "It's just not fair" from someone else.