Or "Soccer Used to be Fun"
Or "Why I Don't Fit in with Soccer Parents"
For some inexplicable reason, I thought I should do my civic duty and manage Son C's soccer team this year. I could explain it to you by saying that all parents should take a turn at coaching or managing, and after six years on the team, it was my turn.
Truth be told, I thought it would be easy and I would do a great job. I mean, simple really, find out the game dates, do up a fruit and jersey roster, and sit back and watch the season roll by. Simple, right?
Oh, woe, I had no idea. Chalk it up to Volunteering Naivety, I had no idea what these parents would be like. Little Bobby's shirt's too small, Brish. Where's my google map, Brish? Am I on fruit this weekend, Brish? The jerseys are smelly Brish (I mean seriously, that parent even got the President of the club to visit our training session over our brand new, apparently-smelly jerseys). The list could go on...
And so I reacted. Here I am, a self-proclaimed, maturing adult, and I fell to pieces over these endless complaints, feeling they were all levelled against me personally.
I couldn't work out where I had gone wrong. I had surrounded myself with overbearing, Type A personalities, and tried to fit in with them. Big mistake. Big. Huge.