When the kids say something about subs at a soccer match, my mind goes to steak and cheese. Or turkey and avocado. It’s just how it is and I can’t change it. But the distraction is mostly temporary.
When I sub a kid into a game, it gives us a bit of a forum to talk that we don’t normally get.
You’re my mom’s favorite coach, but not my dad’s one girl told me. A new player told me how nervous she was to get in. Hayden didn’t spend a lot of time there, but as she waited to go back in after getting her first yellow card, we both tried not to snicker too loud.
I don’t have time for all this! But also, I’ve been given 24 hours to figure out how to do it all – that’s a lot of time! (I also think about Michelle Gingras, Stonehenge, and Havarti cheese, but that’s for another post.)
What’s left in the middle is that time is time, there’s no time like the present, you can’t make new time, and it’s time to go. Also, I might not have time to finish this post until tonight, which is sorta like getting to the fair 10 minutes before it packs up and hits the road.
Not always. I’ve had to wait for the meat lovers pizza to come out at Cici’s. All with the pressure of other carnivores waiting in the wings. That’s a double whammy: Needing patience, and a plan to put pepperoni pizza in your pie hole before everyone else.
It began really when I started to coach soccer.
The kids were little. The challenge was big. When you coach 6-year-olds, you’re at a disadvantage. Instinctively, every dog, airplane or finger-picking opportunity threatens to upstage you and steal your players’ attention.
You either grow patience, or you retire to the other sideline.
What do you want from McDonald’s, pops? She asked. She’s as ready for a snack at the drop of a french fry (just like dad.) I ordered a McDouble, no onions. And I proceeded to shut out the universe like it was a veggie burger.
It’s just a snack. But if I had said, surprise me … imagine then. Sure, that puts Madison on the spot. But what could happen? She might have ordered me a Quarter Pounder. With Mac Sauce. Or something new, like a McGrilledCheese with bacon and a Star Wars toy.
The stars aligned with the big L on the forehead today, didn’t they? Today’s must-reads take on a couple of sticking points and problem areas. They’re good reads, though. I hope you get as much out of them as I did.
When I feel that self-esteem taking kidney punches on the ropes, I duck and cover and pray for the bell to end the round.
We do #gratitudeandshit around here. Why not #kickasskindness? Kindness kind of gets a bad rap. Like, me, in middle school, when someone started the rumor that I curled my hair. Psh. It spreads like wildfire. Or negative Yelp! reviews.
People equate kind with weak. But that’s not always so. That’s why I like when one of my players trucks another player then helps her up. That’s sweet, right? It’s like, not in my neighborhood, !@#$!, then, you okay, sister?
No, not showbiz. The newspaper biz. Usually, you can tell by the scuffed shirt cuffs and clothes bought in 1986. Used. Not in this case, though. Esther Robards-Forbes and I both worked for the Charlotte Observer back in the day.
She’s now in public relations at the University of Texas.
We had a conversation years ago that would have been one of the earliest #GirlsRock interviews. Instead, it sat in drafts, like those old archive rooms back in the newsroom. It was an awesome find for me.
Separately. Then together. We didn’t know where to go for a realtors event. It had a speakeasy theme. I haven’t been in a speakeasy since 1931. Neither one of us dressed the part, either.
There was plenty of gangsters and flappers, but Kristen and I were so 2019. (Well, 2017, for me. Forgive me. I’m a dad.)
We found our way eventually to the right room, although we bumbled into the wrong one first. This place had better food, to be honest. And I met with a coaching colleague of mine, and suddenly, Kristen found herself being introduced to someone she didn’t know.
Literally and figuratively. Before last night, I hadn’t written in it for weeks. Also, the back cover has fallen off. There are about five pages left in her, and it looks like it spent a season getting kicked around on Gilligan’s Island.
Gratitude is easy to come back to, it seems.
It wasn’t as if I’d abandoned #gratitudeandshit. It’s part of every day. It just wasn’t getting written down. So I had some old things in there. Things such as, I’m grateful for new episodes of Silver Spoons and I’m grateful for my new calculator watch.
Love them, in fact. Not the screamy ones. Not those that scream a phone number 3,296 in 30 seconds. And not those that play the worst music ever imaginable to grab my attention.
I like funny, relatable commercials.
Sometimes, it’s for Jiff Peanut Butter. Sometimes, it’s a new drug with 3,296 side effects. Sometimes, it’s a hilarious commercial about appliances dying, with a grim reaper and adorable actor hitting her knees and begging for mercy.