The Parents Turn to Speak
In 2005, my U18 boys hosted an end-of-the-year party during the Midwest Regional Championships. Three parents delivered a prepared speech I’ll never forget, mainly because I recently found their speech in its original written form.
My history with the team was extensive. When the class of ‘05 first tried out for our club in 1997, sixteen kids attended. I didn’t run a try out, I put on a performance. I wanted every player and parent to say, “How great is this?!” “We have to join this club!” “Is this coach a former pro player?” “Was he in the movie The Outsiders?” just so we could field a team.
At U13 and U14, I helped coached the team in the spring and summer. Improbably, we won the state title at U13 and then repeated at U14. I began head coaching the team at U15, and, in the world of competitive youth sports, our team kept attracting more talented players and winning.
By U18, some of these kids and parents had been a part of my life for eight or nine years. They’d put up with my long-winded player evals, extended post-game speeches, bad jokes, referee incidents, and a lifetime of all that stuff that makes youth soccer beautiful, torturous and full of life lessons. So here it is, in their words, and on behalf of everyone who reads my blog (all 17 people including immediate family and editors) and says, “What do they say about you Rob?”
Note: I redacted portions because redacted is currently a popular word and provide responses, because it’s still My Blog.
U18 Story
By Bob, Pat, and Rob
It was a dark and stormy night on the day the intrepid Pete Knezic, FC Milwaukee Head Coach, called his underlings into the posh FC headquarters. It was the annual dreaded pairing of coaches and teams for the upcoming season.
Suddenly, amid claps of thunder and flashes of lightning the door burst open and in bounced Rob Harrington – a Sloppy Joe in hand. A hush fell over the room and eyes were averted as everyone wondered the same thing: “Would Rob, again, be faced with this awesome challenge?”
Wait, what’s the Sloppy Joe comment all about?
Others wondered if he was aware of the large stain of sloppy joe juice on his shirt. And several people also contemplated the anatomical miracle that allowed Rob’s short, even stubby, arms to shovel such massive amounts of vittles into his mouth. Eventually, the wondering stopped.
Aren’t coaches supposed to be respected? Plus, I don’t even like Sloppy Joe’s, maybe it was barbequed pork juice on my shirt or an old ketchup stain.
It was clear to all that only Rob would be able to handle the complex mix of personalities that constituted the U18’s. No other coach had the deft managerial touch that RH showed or the uncanny insight into the sometimes tortured psyche of an 18-year-old boy. Perhaps this reflects his own checkered background, often darkly hinted at, but never fully revealed.
Correct. I was not a saint in my teenage years, and no-one gets to read about it in my blog either.
The conversation gradually turned to the upcoming tryouts. Rob carefully weighed the benefits of actually attending the tryouts that year, and in the end, reluctantly decided that it would be best if he did so.
The previous season I had missed the tryouts due to misreading the tryout dates and booking a vacation for my girlfriend and me. They never let this go because, apparently, some incredible player showed up at tryouts in my absence and didn’t get selected. For years, I was convinced the player was eventual US National Team Player and Green Bay native, Jay Demerit. I called Jay several years ago; it wasn’t him.
Harry then turned his attention to the girls’ fall season, and to his pending wedding to lovely Lisa, who is clearly the class of the pair. Rob lost 25 pounds, and looking positively svelte, proudly took his place at the alter, and vowed the vows. After a much-deserved honeymoon, he returned to the club and did his “winter work,” whatever that is…
I did look pretty good and Lisa’s awesome, but the winter work comment – complete bullshit. Seriously, they should try coaching four Friday night games at an indoor facility until midnight and then get up at 5:45 AM for 7 AM practice. By 2001, soccer was a 12-month deal. No winter work, whatever, you guys are soooo funny.
Throughout the wicked Wisconsin winter, many of the U18 boys worked out hard, shared Patrick’s (a skinny kid on the team) steroids, and added 10-20 pounds of sinuous muscles to their slender frames. Always one to lead by example, and still competitive by nature, Harry put on 30 pounds of abdominal muscle.
Making fun of a guy who has a problem maintaining a consistently healthy weight, apparently, is perfectly acceptable at an end-of-the-year party.
He, unfortunately, was unable to add any length to his arms, and still has trouble reaching his wallet, although apparently not his pie-hole.
Yes, I know, I’m a little overweight, but cheap? I’m a youth soccer coach for Christ-sake. Why should I buy for you people? Some of you print your own money. Not to mention, accepting the free beer or meal was just me being cordial.
Soooo, Winter has folded into spring and in Wisconsin that means cold wind, snow, and a trip to Detroit, where winter seems to hang on as long as Wendell’s (the team’s previous coach) after game inspirational orations. After the usual sensational start of the season, the team awaited one of Rob’s Yoda-speak reviews….. Apparently, the U18’s understand the wise Yoda-Rob and the force was with them.
In case you missed it, they utilized a device called sarcasm. We always stunk at the beginning of the year and everyone wondered whether I’d worn out my welcome with the team.
The road to Sioux Falls has been littered with casts, bandages, empty Ibuprofen bottles, and other no name prescription drugs. The parents and their insurance carriers have endeavored to keep as many players on the field as possible even if Rob decide to start a State Cup game with ten players.
I completely forgot about starting a game with ten players and would’ve liked to have kept it that way.
After a series of bone scans, surgery, and a pair of size 6 boys compression shorts, the U18 boys were on their way to fight the good fight, taking the force and their foul mouths with them. “We ain’t here to win girlie sportsmanship awards. We’re going to Disney World” one soccer mom said.
One player on our team had a torqued testicle. To play at Regional Cup he had to wear extra small compression underwear and be prepared to go to the hospital in a moment’s notice.
That mom at the end was either Leona Helmsley or a woman named Cheryl.
As for the mocking I received – I loved it. This journey of youth soccer is beautiful, entertaining and I’m honored to be the butt of their jokes. In the neverending dance of distrust and anxiety between parents and coaches, I’ve learned to appreciate their unconditional and, sometimes, insane love for their child while they’ve tolerated my obsessive and, often, childish tirades over a game.
In those eight years, the parents and players saw the best, worst and, apparently, messy Rob Harrington.
And as a footnote, we did go to Disney World. For three years running we won the Midwest Regional League in nail-biting wins versus the Chicago Sockers, only to lose to them at the Regional Championships. In 2005, we finally beat them 2-1 and qualified for the Final Four.
In memory of Pat – I was honored to know the best of you.
