the jets/rockets

I had an experience yesterday that reminded me of my soccer coaching days. (My friend Sarah and I coached a team of 8 and 9 year old boys back when we were college students in Iowa. I'll get back to that later.) The experience that reminded me of this was a free-for-all in a small gym with 30 kids and two shell-shocked adult figures. I have signed up to do this "homework help" thing at a local elementary school through the Red Cross and Save the Children, and yesterday was the first day. After the tomato soup had been consumed and the rules and schedule had been thoroughly discussed, one of the leaders made the mistake of asking the kids: "So, what do you guys want to do now?" to which the ENTIRE group responded with a resounding: "GYM!" and then promptly launched themselves out of their seats, through the door, and down two flights of stairs. They then proceeded to take out every ball they could find in the equipment room and turn the gym into a battlezone. I covered my head and ran for safety.

After approximately 15 minutes of ball insanity, I managed somehow to get their attention and told them that gym was over.

At times, this soccer team - who couldn't decide if they wanted to be called the Decorah Jets or the Decorah Rockets and ultimately landed on the Decorah Jets/Rockets - was equally crazy. Sarah and I would often find ourselves laughing hysterically at the out-of-control-ness of the situation and would make up some ridiculous drill involving pile-ons and traffic cones in order to tame the beasts.

I could have used some traffic cones yesterday.