And there goes another season

I was worried about this past season. I now realize I had no need to be, and I’m going to miss these boys.

At the start of the season I had 15 players. Now I have 15 more little brothers. I practiced patience, gained a stronger voice, and learned I have a sense of humor very similar to that of a 12-year-old boy.

No one made any comments about girls not being good at sports, or my ability to coach because I’m female. Many of them are following the world cup just as closely and I am. For all of this I am relieved, proud, and impressed with the future children of the universe.

Even the parents were amazing! I am incredibly grateful I had great players and great parents, and I’m going to miss the little boogers. I loved the girls I coached the season before, don’t get me wrong. But considering how worried I was, and considering how well the season went…I’m really sad to see them go. Having a full team like this is incredible, and seeing the leaps and bounds they all made was so rewarding.

Next week, however, I’m about to start a whole new kind of scary coaching situation.

I will be part of a group of coaches who will be teaching middle and high school girls about soccer. These girls come from foster homes, abusive homes, and drug-using homes. Some of them are victims of human trafficking. Some of them have mental health issues, some lack motor skills, and some are dealing with anger problems. This is something I truly feel ill-equipped for, to put it lightly. I have very limited experience with these issues; even less experience with how to coach someone with these types of issues. Like learning any new skill, soccer can be frustrating in the beginning. I’m barely able to deal with a frustrated 12-year-old, let alone a 16-year-old trafficking victim with a history of anger issues.

The good news is I have help. Both the counselors at the shelter and a few experienced soccer coaches will be at practices. So, I can’t cause too much damage.

I am unbelievably honored to be a part of this; I am honored to have a chance at improving someone’s quality of life, even in some small way. Letting someone know it’s ok to try something new, to be a part of a team, is a tough thing. Teaching someone that it’s okay to fail – especially when I’m still learning how to do that myself – is going to be a challenge.

This is a thing that scares me, and I’m just going to dive in head first. What other way is there?

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Fearless.

I’ve only known this guy for a couple weeks. We met online. We’ve played bar trivia a few times, I’ve met his dog. I went with him to run errands last weekend. I give him shit about his busted bracket (who the hell picks Northern Iowa to play in the National Championship game?).

Friday afternoon, he texts me and asks if I want to come with him to a wedding reception the next day. It’s two friends from his hometown that got married, so I would be meeting his parents. Probably staying at their house. It’s about an hour away, and he says the wedding is super casual; he’s just wearing his “regular clothes”.

I had no plans for the weekend. I need to go shopping, but that requires money. I need to clean my apartment, but I know I won’t. I could go see my mom, but I do that almost every other weekend.

I’d seen this guy seven out of the previous 11 days. Neither one of us knows many people in town, and we both like drinking and he’s just easy to be around.

But still – I’ve known this guy for less than two weeks, and I’m supposed to meet his parents? I haven’t even begun to think about what I want from him, but I guess what better way to think about it than to see what his parents are like. So I say sure, I’ll go. Why the hell not. In true hedonist fashion, I just say “fuck it! free booze? hell yeah!”

Whether it was the wanderlusty adventurer or devil-may-care hedonist, I’m glad that part of me was making the decisions. I explored a new city! I drank, which made the introverted part of me more relaxed. We had amazing pizza in this tiny little restaurant in his hometown. We went to a bar that only serves canned beer, and I almost kicked his ass in pool. His parents are even really, really awesome. Luckily, they didn’t ask how we met at first. Then they finally did, and I was hoping he would answer so I didn’t have to, but he was in another room. So after a pause I said, “well, online actually…” and his mom just says “Oh that’s not so bad, I met his dad in a bar! And he was too shy, so I had to pick him up.” We played drinking games on the Wii, and it turns out I’m a lot better at Wii golf than I am at real golf.

So no, I didn’t go skydiving or finally decide to move across the country. But this small leap, this extra ounce of ‘fuck it’, this spontaneous decision… means I can only move up from here. I still don’t know what I want from this guy, I still don’t know what the fuck I’m doing on a daily basis, but each step like this is getting me back to the fearless girl I used to be; the fearless person I want to be.