Who Will Save the Youth of America? Last Saturday marked
the end of my first stint as a youth soccer coach. For the past seven
weeks, I've spent my otherwise blissfully idle Saturday mornings running
around in the wet and cold with a bunch of boys and girls ranging in age
from five to seven (or "U-7s," as they're known in coaching
parlance).
At this age, The Beautiful Game generally devolves into
a wobbly cluster of frenetic tots whacking away freely at the ball
and
each other. Wisely, the United States Youth Soccer Association (USYSA)
has developed special small-sided
games for the Younger Set. At U-7, they figure about six kids can
fit comfortably around the ball, so the format is 3-on-3. This way, everyone
gets more touches, and no one stands around. As the kids get older and
discover useful things to do away from the ball, players are added to
field. Finally, at U-12 they're playing full-sided games.
Every Saturday, we're descended on by fifty-odd kids,
many with watchful and supportive parents in tow. We cull the kindergartners
and split them off into small 3-v-3 games. The first-graders are herded
to another part of the field for a collective skills session. Fifteen
minutes later we switch, so the first-graders get some game time, and
the younger kids can work on their skills.
Your primary mission when coaching kids of this age
is to make sure they have a good time. Most of them really don't need
the exercise yet--although I'm sure some of the parents appreciate us
tiring them out so early in the weekend--and to be honest, there's not
a whole lot you can teach them about the game. Not directly, anyway.
They learn plenty by having the ball at their feet now
rather than later. Every week, a new kid figures out you can change direction
without waiting for the ball roll to a stop and running around to the
other side. Some of them have learned not to kick it away from a teammate.
A half-dozen can kick the ball with either foot comfortably. Almost
all of them can remember which direction they're going. If they stick
with it, every single one of them will be better players in a few short
years than I ever was, just from having started so young.
Although we deal with them en masse for much
of the time, I've gotten to know many of the kids. One tries not to develop
favorites, but I have really taken a shine to some of the nippers. In
particular, there is little Isaac (who at five already knows how to get
a laugh by pratfalling over a ball), and even little-er Robert (who's
been playing with a nine-year-old sister, making him speedy and fearless).
Axiomatically, The Sarahs (there are three, who travel in a pack) are
Trouble; but they're good players and also quite funny. Andrew, too, is
a passel of trouble, because he is smart and easily bored. Kayla (who's
name is not Hayley) was so shy and fractious at the start of the program
that her well-meaning father grouped her in with the kindergartners, even
though she's seven and a head and a half taller than any of them. She's
playing with the big kids now, and let me tell you, she's a buzz saw.
Most of my young charges won't grow up to play soccer.
Football and basketball will lure some of them away; others will grow
up awkward or unathletic. And some will become misanthropic little geniuses
who can't abide team sports. Of course, if you're good with children
(or at least enjoy their company, as I do) a lot of what you can teach
them has nothing to do with sports, and may never be apparent in the short
time you know them.
And every one of them has had some fun. That can't help
but improve the odds. (Sat 02 November 2002, 08.22 PST)@ #