Waiting outside the gym, one of the 4th grade team Dads approached, “Soooo, you were a high school baller?”
Nope. Never played in my life. Total dork.
I smiled, “I’m the only one who would volunteer.”
My first game as coach of the 4th grade team was chaos. My plan for subs didn’t work because the refs told me they don’t really go by the stated rules, on which I had based my subbing plan.
And what gym has the parents sitting right behind the players’ bench?! Nightmare.
The gym had the worst acoustics ever. Our opponents had four 6’5” Dad coaches (all with ridiculously loud voices and likely played when they were 10 and 18) and three kids who shoot like Stephen Curry. Our kids didn’t know who they were guarding now that we don’t use colored wristbands. And no player could have heard what I was saying to them even if they were inclined to listen.
Plus, I can’t blow my whistle during games. We are the Bad News Bears. They need my whistle.
Good news? My co-mom-coach is way cooler under pressure than me. My son played good defense and left the game happy. Our star shooter stopped himself from crying even though we were losing so badly. And the player most likely to get thrown out of the game only said “Damn it” once.
One down. Seven games to go.
In a few weeks, we are going to rock this!