Top 5 Reasons Why I Hate Soccer


1. It starts in the summer, when the temperatures outside rival that of the sun.

2. “It’s too hot and I’m too busy to help out.” (This is the standard excuse of the parents who are playing on their iPhones). My (internal) response: a) WHAT THE HELL? and b) I have a full-time job, kids in piano and soccer and swimming, I’m managing a five-year old while I’m coaching your kid, and in my free time, I write books; and c) I asked you to do a goddamn snack schedule, not… I don’t know… cure cancer.

Also: I’m not bitter.

3. I am coach, assistant coach, the ref and the team parent. I arranged for the banner, my husband is making the stand, I did the snack schedule and I coach your kids. And I hate it. I’d love to sit on a bench in the shade at the end of the day, rather than running around a soccer field. I mean, after all, I FEEL LIKE MELTING BUTTER. No, I’m not exaggerating. Ever heard fat sizzle? I have. I hear it at every goddamn practice–only, instead of a side of bacon, IT’S MY FLESH! Yes, I’m yelling. See above. (Aside: mmm, bacon)

4. I haven’t played soccer since fifth grade. I am not fourteen. Or even double that. Ergo, it’s been a long time. You are not allowed to critique my coaching, because, hell, I barely even know the rules. No seriously. But if you have problems with the way I do it, then maybe you would like to be my assistant rather than the ten-year old I currently have? (Basically, he’s my runner… As I’ve discussed on this blog before, I only run if I’m being chased by clowns)

5. Coaches’ camp. After my third practice. On a Saturday, for the entire morning. And it’s supposed to be 108.

My  only solace? That my new kitchen table should be here by the time I get back from Coaches’ Camp. Just in time for me to die of heat exhaustion. Maybe the dog won’t eat this one. Here’s hoping.

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10 thoughts on “Top 5 Reasons Why I Hate Soccer”

    1. Yeah. Ugh. My little area of town in great in winter–when the rest if the city is blanketed in snow, it’s just wet over here. But in summer, it’s a good ten degrees hotter over here. I am not looking forward to it (was actually looking forward to NOT coaching this year; alas, I was guilted into it. But I really thought someone would step up and do something. Anything. Shoot, even be nice to me. I, apparently, set the bar too high.)

      1. OK, I’ve downgraded from hysterics to sloppy grin…enough to give you a heartfelt reminder. All children aren’t as lucky to have caring, dedicated parents like you and M. Take a deep breath and refocus your energy, my dear friend. You can’t change the behavior of a child’s parent, but you can change the life of a child (and if a an errant soccer ball should happen to fly into the bleachers…I’m sending you angel wings)

      2. It’s easy to remember. Instruct your team to be fleet-of-foot and start the chant ANGEL WINGS…ANGEL WINGS…ANGEL WINGS! Oh wait, Is this Mini-Mighty Man’s team? If so, stick to blasting soccer balls into the stands.

  1. This is a great post. Fabulous way to let everybody know what a soccer coach feels like and why she might yell on the field. You rock, Meggan!

    1. Thanks!

      Actually, working in SpEd with kids with Autism and mild to moderate cognitive impairments, I’m almost never tempted to yell at the girls. Love the kids. Honestly, it’s their parents. (And the heat–oy, weh, the heat. The witch is MELTING!!!)

  2. I feel for you. I ran a baseball league for 8 years for 5-9 year-olds besides coaching a team. No body wants to help with anything and they expect you to do everything perfect.

    I know how frustrating it can get, but remember the children you’re giving attention to who most of the time have parents who probably don’t give them the time they need especially because they’re special children.

    Highest accolades to you – you’re doing something extraordinarily kind and wonderful and shows the depth of your heart and character.

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