red card

Note to my sister Kari--this post is about Brennan.

I am coaching Brennan's soccer team this fall. We're the earthquakes (which makes for excellent team cheers). At the first practice Brennan unleashed an aggressive prowess during scrimmage which I've never before witnessed; he was playing like a man possessed. Offense. Defense. He was all over the place. It was exciting to watch, but of course it meant that several of the kids became victims of Brennan's flailing feet. He got the ball most of the times, but shins were kicked, and in one case this resulted in an exchange which went something like this:

• Little boy: Brennan took a swing at me!
• Brennan: Did not...you pulled my shirt, I was just knocking your hand off (*starting to sob*)!
• Little boy: That's because you kicked me. And you can't cry in soccer.
• Brennan: You can't be mean in soccer.
• Me: (*at this point off to the side of the field*) Technically if you watch any Champions League soccer, you would know that crying and being mean are encouraged, but I suppose that is besides the point here. Can you guys go out there and play hard, but not get upset when you get bumped or kicked? This stuff happens in soccer.
• Brennan and little boy: Ok. *they shake hands and run back onto the field*

Brennan was still sulking a bit after practice, so I felt it was time for him to hear the infamous story of the red card of '96. Long story short: Regional championship game of my senior year (oh man, I feel like Uncle Rico...but I will proceed anyway), I'm getting mauled all game by this kid from Alton. At some point in the second half he tackles me, I don't go down, and seeing him on the ground there in front of me, I decide instead of just jumping over him (he was in my path and had to be avoided) I would gently place a foot on his back, just to remind him I was still standing. Of course when I rested my boot on his back, he flopped like an Italian, prompting the ref to run over and intervene in what was surely to become a violent clash. The ref put his forearm on my chest, then reached for his wallet and pulled out the red card. This meant that I was out of the game and suspended for the next game as well. I asked Brennan what I should have done in this situation, and he didn't know. I gave him the options of: smiling, laughing, or ignoring. My good friend Cory, the assistant coach, added, "ask him on a date" but I think that one went over Brennan's head. I repeated to Brennan what had transpired during the game: I lost my cool, and as a result I got kicked out of the game. The other kid smirked and resumed play. Brennan decided that I should have ignored the kid, but smiling was also acceptable. I liked that response.

This is a tenuous thing for any peace-loving, sports-playing father. I don't want to squelch his competitive drive, but I also don't want him to be a jerk. I believe sports to be one of those things that can be great, but can also go really, really south, real quick (also in this category: Pauly Shore, religion, socialism, and Papa John's pizza). I'm not quite sure what the proper approach is on this sports stuff, but I do know that these situations provide a nice context for great conversations with Brennan: talking about how to work collaboratively and productively with members of a team will prove to be beneficial regardless of what Brennan decides to do in life (this week it is: become a Navy SEAL). Teaching a lesson about keeping his cool when emotions run high will certainly help him in an array of life situations (particularly when they are trying to drown him during SEAL Hell week). I suppose more importantly than anything else, as long as we approach sports in much the same way that we strive to approach other things in our life--with balance and level-headedness--surely it will work itself out. If that doesn't work, I could always done a Rage Against the Machine Shirt, push Brenno to the limits, and tell the other parents to buy titanium shin guards for their six year olds.