The first year he played soccer we actually had a coach, but mostly the 6 year-olds played mob ball. They would run around and grab the ball from each other and then run like the wind anywhere but the goal post. Usually the mob was so funny, that the parents would just be rolling on the grass laughing.
The second year and third year was about the same, although the field was starting to mean something to them. They loved to tattle if one of them went out of bounds. The fourth year we had a coach, but he was about 17 and had car troubles, women troubles, job troubles, so he did not show up much. Being the soccer mom that I am, I went on the Internet and searched for the rules of soccer, so at least the parents could have an idea of what we were supposed to be doing. Somehow I hit a spoof soccer website and the rules were a joke. Ha-ha. I spent $10 copying all the rules before I realized it.
I will not bore you with a blow by blow of the many trials and tribulations of the soccer league in San Marcos, I am sure it is the same everywhere. You have the parents who do what they are supposed to and then you have the parents who drop their kids off without shin guards or water to drink. The parents would purchase the trophies because our team never won anything. We had the team run around to the song, "We are the Champions" by Queen. They loved it.
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