Soccer. Mom. Fail.

There was a day I would have shuddered at the thought of being a 'soccer mom.'  

Today, I can't imagine life without 'soccer mom' on one of my proverbial hats.  

Kendal has played on a soccer team with the same girls and coaches for over three years- it's an outdoor/ indoor travel league so they play ALL year....  not just a couple months here and there.  Naturally, we have all become a surrogate family of sorts.  I would claim any one of the girls on Kendal's team as my own if their 'soccer moms' would let me.

So.... the girls had a soccer tournament this weekend.  I love tournaments.  Seriously, I do.

The girls have a great time. The parents have a great time.  There is lots of teasing Coach O,  there are pool party shenanigans... there are bonding over hummus moments.... oh, and of course, there are soccer games...our girls play other teams....whoever wins the most games claims the coveted title as tournament champion......usually a t-shirt or medal accompany the title. 

Our bracket was small this weekend, only four teams.  (Not gonna lie- I have no idea what a bracket is, I just heard someone say it as we were lamenting our situation: so I hope I am not using it out of context.  I'm apologizing now, just in case.)  We won our first, second and third games.

You do the math.  We were the fourth team.  We beat everyone else in our bracket.  In my book that means we win the tournament.  We are the Champions!!!! Go for it- bust in to your best rendition of Queen..you know you want to.  We are the champions, my friends!!!

Or..... not..... we still had to play a "championship game" for the coveted title and t-shirt.  This "championship game" was scheduled for 10 minutes after our game-three win on day-three of the tournament.  This detail had me feeling uneasy from the minute we heard about it the night before, but it was...what it was.  Right? 

Wrong.  

Something snapped in me shortly after that "championship game" started.  

This isn't fair!!!

The team we beat, the day before, showed up rested and ready for a fight. It wasn't fair.  Hand- balls were not called in OUR goal box.  It wasn't fair.  The other team was faking injuries:  with Oscar nominee worthiness, to throw us undeserved penalties.  It wasn't fair!!

It was infuriating.......the other team was playing dirty.  It was nauseating......the other parents were taunting...that was the last straw.  Nobody picks on this 'soccer mom's' girls....

I immediately personified immaturity and vengeance before I even knew what happened.  After our girls scored a goal, ...........I stood up,.......... waited patiently for it to get quiet and shouted.......as loud as I could- remember:  I was #1 in the state for cheer-leading: I am loud........ so, I shouted  "I love to see you playing clean soccer girls!!  Anyone can win playing dirty soccer!! Thank you for proving you can win and keep it clean!!" ......

Classy eh?.....slightly ironic.....not a proud moment looking back.....

I knew it was wrong.  I knew I had stooped to 'taunting- soccer- parent' level.

Things went from bad to worse when our game ended in a tie.  That meant an additional 5 minutes of soccer for our girls that had already played 100 minutes of soccer  in the last 110 minutes of life.  Okay..... they can do this.  Just five more minutes girls....you can do this.....and again......ended in tie.  We were dead locked.  That meant a shoot-out.

These girls are too young for this!!!!!!

I had instant flash backs to elementary school and the pressure of being the 'one' that lost the dodge-ball game.  I HATED that pressure.  I was nearly in tears thinking about it.

Our 'keeper', would have to go head-to-head with 5 of their best players.

Five of our best players would have to go head-to-head with their 'Keeper'.

Minor detail:  both teams, their respective spectators, and the rest of the teams from the tournament and their spectators are watching this process unfold because the story had spread the tournament by this time. That is a HUGE crowd by the way.  A huge crowd to witness the failure and victory of two opposing 11 year old girls.  

Did I mention that Kendal, my barely-eleven-year-old,  was chosen to be one of the five to go head-to-head....with the keeper....in the shoot out... this soccer Mom went loco.....

I heard the following words come out of my mouth with no censorship..."Eleven-year-old girls should never have to endure this level of pressure and especially not with such a large audience,"  and.... "this tournament is whack......," and........"if they had competent officials....." and......

I wish the list ended there, but it doesn't.  SOCCER. MOM. FAIL.  The lies of anger, frustration and 'protection' flooded my mind, heart and soul as if I had no choice.  I am quite aware that my brain mis-fires.  I am quite aware that I DID have a choice.  I acted, however, as if I did not have a choice.  Sad. But true.

My locus of control was completely external.  Let the blaming, criticism and accusations begin.... These are MY GIRLS you're messing with!!

It was agonizing to say the least...the looks on the girls faces when they missed the mark so as to let their team know they felt they had failed them.....the looks on the girl's faces when they hit the mark so as not to make the other girls, that missed the mark, feel badly......it was torture to see them navigate this experience outside of the protection us 'soccer moms' wanted to provide. 

Our girls lost that championship game.  

Curiously enough, no one spoke of the loss.  Do not be confused, we spoke plenty....... but it was the circumstances surrounding the loss that our parenting team was pissed about. 

Thank you Coaches for keeping our girls in the team meeting as long as you did....or the ending might have been very different for Kendal and I.   With out those extra 25 minutes, I probably would have held her while she cried and........ cried with her and then....... shared with her the lies I had subscribed to.....'that tournament was whack'.....'somebody is going to hear about this'.....'you should never have to feel that kind of pressure at your age..'

Instead,   the coaches kept the girls in one of their famous 'post-game reflections' for far longer than normal.  This was a prime opportunity to pray for what God would want me to learn from this situation and....... what He wants me to teach Kendal.

Nope. 

I was too pissed to pray.  I was too busy listening to the lies of anger, frustration and protection.  I was too pissed to pray.  Pissed that Kendal was going to feel defeated.  Pissed that our 'keeper' had to hear the other team explode with celebration when three of their shots passed her and landed in the goal.  Pissed that Kendal and three of her team-mates heard the other team celebrate when their goals didn't go in to the goal. I was too pissed to pray.

I love it when God doesn't wait for me to ask Him to intercede.  He is capable of turning my heart and breaking me free from the lies....even before I ask Him to.  He can and He did.  Not only that, but He did it before I could contaminate my 11-year-old with the lies I had subscribed to.  

When she walked away from her post-game team-meeting crying, I held her and hugged her.  

When she said, "I can't function under that kind of pressure," and..."it's my fault we lost....." and "it's not fair..."  I gave her a minute to wrestle with those feelings.   

I knew telling her it is not okay to feel those feelings wasn't going to miraculously dismiss them.  They were real for her.  She needed to acknowledge them and wrestle with them if she was ever going to be 'the champion' of defeating those lies. 

I am so thankful I didn't lose the moments of this conversation with her. It was really awesome to talk with her about what was real in those moments and what we allowed to seem real.

It was real that our team had to play two games back to back.  It seemed unfair.

It was real that the other team made choices that weren't sportsman-like toward each other and our team.

It was real that our team chose to play fair.

It was real that our team encouraged each other and stopped to help one of the players from other team get back to her feet after she got knocked down.

It was real that our team lost.

It was real that Kendal missed her goal.  It seemed like the team lost the game because of her missed goal.

It was real that it took the entire team to win or lose that game.

It was real that the other team was faster to the ball.

It was real that the other team had solid passes. 

As we talked about how we should respond when we are confronted with reality, I was able to acknowledge some of my failures in those moments.  I was able to apologize to her .....to apologize for allowing her to ever think that this world is fair....to apologize for protecting her from feeling the pressure this world will inevitably create for her....to apologize for neglecting to teach her that sometimes we inflict unnecessary pressure on ourselves and that is not okay...to apologize for allowing external circumstances to control my thoughts, feelings, actions and attitude more than I should.

We talked about what she could do to strengthen her performance as a soccer player.  We talked about what she should encourage her team to work on together so they could avoid having to experience a shoot out again.  We talked about how we would think, feel, and act the next time we were faced with a challenge.  We talked about how thankful we are that are not defined by wins and losses.     

For any of you counting, there were more apologies and lessons learned than circumstances that I allowed to create my pissed-off-ed-ness.  I LOVE the way God provides more than enough grace to save us from those moments that otherwise might drag us back to the jail of self-destruction.  I can only imagine how Peter felt when his grace was delivered in person.  John 21: 15-17

  

We finished up our conversation with laughing, not crying.  It reminded all of us that every thing works together for good.......even if you're not wearing championship t-shirt.  :)

I have no clue what I'm doing here.....

Really?  You're still reading?  Thank you.  I think.....

In the interest of full disclosure:  I'm honored you stopped to check out the blog.  I am always wanting to journal- I have purchased several- I have written in all of them.  I usually get about 10 or 20 pages in to it and then I lose it or get bored with it or ......

The incredible journey of life and learning over the past year has felt a lot like a jail-break of sorts.  Doesn't that sound fantastically adventurous ?  It has seriously led me to consider compiling the reflections in one place that is always available to me- where ever I am, that can't get lost, that can be altered easily if (when) boredom sets in.  So....... here I am.  We'll see.

Please don't allow me to set you up for disappointment: eloquence is not my gift.  Creativity is not my gift.  All I have here is an honest reflection of my journey as I attempt to break free from all of the prisons that I have managed to create for myself over the last 36 years.

I have no idea how blogging works, but I will ask for your patience and kindness as i figure this out.  most of my 'partners in crime' that have helped me stage my prison break/s are bloggers or pinners or authors that deserve the credit for the ideas and tools they have led me to using in the 'escape plan.'  I want to be able to hyper link and those fancy things to make it happen, but i certainly have a long way to go before I know how to do that.

Might have to google 'how to start a blog' eh?

I'll let you know how that goes later, but I'm almost late for the very latest bedtime this 'free girl' can consider during the week should I choose to stay on 'outside.'  Goodnight y'all.