Soccer Mom!

I help out in school every week for an hour. It's not fun. First-graders drive me freakin' nuts. I know this because last year, when I helped out in kindergarten while breastfeeding the baby, I was unflappably cheery. The plus of being in the classroom is observing that my son is not the only one doing things that instantaneously activate the anger center of my reptilian brain. Another plus is seeing that the other parents who help out in the classroom aren't finding this any easier than I am.

What a delight, then, to discover that I truly enjoy watching my son's soccer games! I just signed him up this season to the Oakland Soccer League. We lost the first game, last week, a zillion to one. But my husband and I had so much fun yelling from the sidelines. And I felt good because I'd had a gig the night before and had gotten home at 3 AM and skipped the 8 AM Team in Training workout. The whole family was on a high the rest of the day after soccer.

Then, this Saturday, I managed to gig the night before, sleep 5 hours, do a practice triathlon AND watch my son's game (which was later in the afternoon, making all this possible). Unfortunately, we lost the game TWO zillion to zero, and there was a slight dampened enthusiasm among the parents yelling on the sidelines. We stayed after the game to watch the next two teams for a few minutes. One team was all Mexican (though one Farsi-speaking muslim family was part of the fan base). We've said to our son that when he gets more experience we'll try to get him on a Mexican team.

The mood was pretty serious as they warmed up. The coach told them (in Spanish) they'd better win the game. He told them to get angry out there. He told them to work hard. But the other (all-white) team was very, very good. Emilio and I found ourselves impressed by how well these kids controlled the ball and how fast the action was. My son wanted to leave but I said, "Let's just watch a few minutes. You know how I like seeing fast runners because it inspires me? We're getting inspired by watching good soccer players."

That night we had an interesting discussion. My brothers and I were always -- still are -- very athletic. Physically, it was clear we had the basic materials, but we were never on super-great teams. I went to a division III college where sports were an after-thought, though I did gain some great experience. So the question is, are great athletes made by the teams they join? Do you point your child towards mediocrity when you put him on a team that never wins, lets everyone play and isn't particularly -- excuse the pun -- "goal-oriented"?

Conversely, must winning teams involve high-pressure, negative intensity that stresses seven-year-olds out?

Of course, I don't expect my son to be an instant soccer star. I think it's fine for him to start out on a low-key team (also, it's coed, which I like). I just worry that, as with academics, perhaps I push too little. It seems to me that the key to instilling a work ethic is to push just enough. Are we?