Showing posts with label soccer moms. Show all posts
Showing posts with label soccer moms. Show all posts

Friday, May 03, 2013

Prom Queens vs. Academics:
A Soccer Mom’s Dirty Laundry


Last Sunday, the soccer team I manage, the first place seed in the state championship tournament, qualified for the semi-final game. It was immediately brought to my attention that this game, scheduled for the following Saturday morning, conflicted with the plans of several of our players taking the SAT exam.

TVSC 95 Girls Blue "Samba": U-18 Division 1 State Semi-finalists
Therefore, I checked the Arizona Youth Soccer Association (AYSA) website to read the rules about rescheduling games. It listed SAT/ACT exams as the number one priority. Next, I informed our coach and we approached the coach of our semi-final opponents, who had just won their semi-finalist spot on the field next to us. This coach had no problem moving the game to an afternoon start time. I told them I’d call the AYSA on Monday morning to request the change.

I did. The AYSA administrator told me to put the request in writing, and to include the reason and that we had already discussed the change with the opposing team. By the way, it’s a tough opponent with a current state rank of #3. We are ranked #13 (in spite of our seeding in the tournament). We need all our players.


Monday afternoon we received notice that the game was rescheduled to 1:50 p.m. Although this time would only give our test-takers one hour and 20 minutes from test end to game start, we were thankful for the change. We understood our players would be late to the field (it’s a 1.5 hour drive from Tucson to Casa Grande/ Grande Sports Complex), and that they’d have no warm-up; however, we were willing to accept this compromise.

Unfortunately, the story doesn’t end with this compromise. The next day, Tuesday, I received an email asking if we could change the game to Friday night in Phoenix. I knew we were unavailable because, for one, our team captain was performing in a school play—the drama department’s senior swan song—and several of our girls planned to attend. Then I received an email asking how many of our girls were taking the SAT. I responded, “four.”

On Wednesday, I received yet another email indicating that the game had been rescheduled again. It was moved to a 12:45 start. I had to read the email twice to make sure I was reading correctly.

How could this be? It meant that our test-takers would be lucky to make it to the field for maybe the last 15 minutes of the 90-minute game. And this scenario meant they’d need to put down their pencils, grab their soccer bags, change in the car and have their drivers speed up I-10 with a prayer that the Interstate corridor connecting Tucson and Phoenix, which is often plagued with roll-overs, fender-benders and haboobs (!) would be traffic jam free.

In other words, a 12:45 start time was NOT a workable option for us. So, before I sent word to the team, I called the AYSA office to find out why the game had been rescheduled again.

Did I get a straight answer? Absolutely not. You’d think I had asked this administrator to reveal her weight. Or her politics? Her views on the death penalty or abortion? What ensued was a crazy, even shocking conversation.


This is how I worded my inquiry: “I just received word about the U-18 game being rescheduled again and before I inform the team, I’d like to be able to tell them the reason why it was changed.”

This is the response I received: “It was a compromise. All the U-17 and U-18 games needed to be rescheduled for a variety of reasons, and we did our best to accommodate the most people. There wasn’t an easy way to do it without impacting someone.”

I reminded her that the first change was a compromise for us and that it had an impact. I added that the new change was unworkable, and then asked again: “Would you please tell me the specific reason that our game was changed?”

Obviously, I pressed a button that switched on this woman’s defenses. She immediately went on the attack. First she told me that I was the ONLY one who wasn’t accepting this current compromise. Given that I called her about 15 minutes after receiving the change I was surprised that she had already heard from EVERY OTHER manager, coach, player and parent affected. But I let that slide. I repeated the question until I finally got her to say that the opposing team had five players going to prom that evening.

Yes, she said “prom.”

Samba Goes to the Prom
Now believe me, I understand that prom is important to U-17 and U-18 girls and I also understand that after ACT/SAT exams and coaches with multiple teams/conflicts, consideration of proms ranks #3 on the list of priorities for rescheduling consideration. What I didn’t understand was, why would a game scheduled for 1:50 p.m. (90 minutes of play plus 10-minutes halftime break) affect girls attending a prom that evening? Yes, they faced a one-hour drive from field to salon, but is that still not enough time to get their hair and nails done and enjoy the full evening?


Samba Goes to the Prom
In Tucson, our proms began at 7:30 p.m. Those attending the pre-prom dinner we hosted arrived at 6pm. I realize it takes some girls longer to get ready than others, however, if you can’t accomplish this in 2.5 hours, something’s wrong. It’s not the Oscars for pity’s sake!

“What time does their prom start?” I asked the administrator.

“Photos begin at 4pm,” she said.

“Photos?”

Yes, photos. I had to refer to the AYSA priority list again for rescheduling:

Source: azyouthsoccer.org/tournaments/statecup.aspx

You can see for yourself, there’s NO mention of prom PHOTOS.


“So let me get this straight,” I said. “The answer to my question regarding the specific reason the game was changed was that the team we’re playing has prom photos and that prom photos took priority over the SAT exam?”

She would not admit this and I understand why. It was TOO ridiculous.

“Look,” she said, “Everyone needs to compromise. You’ll just have to accept that your girls will arrive late but it evens out because their girls will need to leave early.”

Even more ridiculous. I was supposed to accept that our girls would miss most of the game AND believe that the other team’s coach was going to let five of his girls leave the state semi-finals early in order to primp for prom? 

On what planet?


I wish I could say it ended there. I figured this was going to be my last call ever to the AYSA so I might as well make the most of it. I kept trying to get her to answer my question—to admit specifically why the AYSA made this scheduling decision— and she amped up her personal attack.

I think it’s fair to say that this woman CRACKED. She called me “pitiful.” She suggested that I (and my team) “are always crying ‘poor-poor me’ and the ‘AYSA is always out to get me!’ ” She said I was spinning the situation to be in line with my consistent claims that the AYSA is always treating our team unfairly.

“Really?” I asked? “You’re really going to insult me like this instead of simply answer my question?“ I told her she didn’t know me nor did she seem to understand our team’s history and the problems we’ve faced with scheduling games with this league.

“Oh we ALL know who you are,” she spit . . .


She went on to hurl insults not worth repeating because she was clearly confused, highly stressed and unable to face the consequences of her actions. Not only did she not follow the rules of the AYSA, but also she was so caught up in defending her actions that I can only conclude she was guilty of giving preferential treatment to the Phoenix-based team. That’s an obvious no-no she wasn’t going to admit.

Instead she opted to take the avenue of turning the situation on me by insulting me, and accusing me of being uncompromising and pitiful.  In some circles, that’s called “victim blaming.”

It was difficult to keep my composure, but I did.  Yes, I was upset on behalf of my team; however, I knew I was perfectly within my rights to have made that call, and I believed my team deserved an honest explanation.

Further, I knew the administrator with whom I was speaking had faced a very difficult task and obviously had a lot of pressure from parents calling in on behalf of their daughters’ upcoming photo sessions. I understood she had a lot more people with whom she had to deal than I, and I didn’t envy her for this job. It was clear to me that she was unable to properly handle the pressure in a professional manner.

A wise person once told me: “There will always be someone who is worse off than you.” That is a certain truth. And on that afternoon it was this AYSA administrator.

I ended the conversation by saying that since I managed a U-18 team it would be the last time she had to deal with this pitiful, uncompromising person—me—and also said, for the record, that I was very disappointed in her language and her unprofessional demeanor.

“Well, I’m sorry you feel that way,” she said sarcastically.

Clearly, she wasn’t the least bit sorry.


I contacted the parents of players planning to take the SAT and they all opted to reschedule the exam (it’s a $20 fee) because it was the only workable option for our team.

So, we found a way to make this situation work because we are neither pitiful nor uncompromising. On the contrary.

I’d like to point out that I believe my job as a manager is to A: understand the problem, and then B: Find a way to solve the problem. We accomplished this as a team, and the result is that none of our girls will be late for the game on Saturday.

Meanwhile I wonder, will the prom girls on the opposing team still leave early?

You can BET I’ll be watching.


Tuesday, March 27, 2012

Haircut One Hundred


Last May after Keratin straightening 
My daughter ran into a soccer mom yesterday, someone neither she nor I have seen since the school season ended back in February.

“How’s your mom?” asked the woman.

“She cut off all her hair,” responded my daughter.

I wish I could have seen the expression on the woman’s face when she heard this. If I had heard someone had cut off all her hair, I’d think she went a little nuts.

Well, maybe I did.


Last May I succumbed to my first hair process ever. I had it straightened. And for about five minutes I had the silky straight, flowing follicles of a regular Breck girl. (Don’t know what a Breck girl is? Ask your mother). Unfortunately, during a regular Wisconsin summer filled with lake water and humidity, it wasn’t long before my hair was back in corkscrews.

When I returned to Tucson, I learned that my hairdresser had moved to Jersey. So, ever since September, it’s been ponytail city for this soccer mom.


New hair: Curly version
Finally, it came time for me to do something about what ultimately was a lot of dry, damaged hair. During a phone conversation with my friend, Diana, we got off the subject of our teenage daughters and on the subject of our middle-aged hair. She recommended two stylists in Tucson, one for cut and one for color. I made appointments immediately, before I had the chance to chicken out.

New hair: Straight version
Because I just wasn’t happy with my long hair anymore, I felt my only option was to have it all cut off. Yikes. I still don’t know if it was the right decision. I’ve received a lot of comments—compliments even—but I think most people are simply reacting to the change and how short it is.

My hair hasn’t been this short since I was three years old.

“Who are you and what did you do with my wife?” asked my husband when I came home from getting it cut.

I’ve been avoiding the mirror because every time I look into it, I don’t recognize that person either. She no longer looks like a girl—she looks like a mom.


Thursday, May 05, 2011

ACL Diary: Patellar? Hamstring?

“Go With Your Gut”
The first thing we learned is that shredded ACL ligaments cannot be repaired. They may, however, be reconstructed. It wasn’t until we saw the MRI images and our surgeon pointed out the barely visible frayed remains of Willow’s ACL, that we truly understood.

Options for ACL reconstruction surgery presented to us were:


Given Willow’s desire to return to competitive soccer, Dr. Tucker ruled out allograft, indicating it was not the strongest option. He then explained the patellar and hamstring tendon techniques, citing both as viable options, and listed the advantages and disadvantages attributed to each.

So then it was left to us to decide. And this is what occupied my brain for the next several days:
Patellar? Hamstring?
Patellar? Hamstring?
Patellar? Hamstring?
Patellar? Hamstring?
Patellar? Hamstring?
Patellar? Hamstring?


Two friends here in Tucson, both nurses, have daughters who had been Willow’s teammates in the past, and had torn their ACLs. When they learned of Willow’s injury, they made a point of contacting me to offer advice, opinions and especially moral support. In fact, they both said to me—one through email and one on the phone—“I know EXACTLY what you’re going through.” Even though I didn’t realize I’d soon become a bona fide ACL reconstruction procedure “expert” on a par with them, they made it immediately apparent that both my daughter and I would survive this ordeal.

District Champion Bobcats, Cass and Wills, 2009

Like Dr. Tucker, these fellow soccer moms discussed the options available to us and didn’t necessarily recommend one procedure over another. Of course they shared the methods they chose, which included both patellar and allograft, but they encouraged me to do my own research, and go with my gut.

The nurses weren’t the only soccer moms and/or dads who contacted me. Parents of other teammates—past and present—who have faced this, and friends from high school and other former lives offered empathy and information.

As my source list grew, so did my research folder.

In short, my research showed that even though the patellar surgery was once considered the gold standard, with recent improvements to the hamstring technique, it’s close to impossible to find anything or anyone that can or will objectively recommend one procedure over the other as being “better.”

95 Rush Team, 2006-07 . . . Four Future Knee Surgeries

Even after factoring in gender and body type, ultimately our choice became an exercise in choosing among the DISADVANTAGES.

With the patellar what stood out was the potential for long-term frontal knee pain and the possibility of future patellar fracture/injury; and with the hamstring we understood a risk of the tendon stretching and thereby causing re-injury.

It wasn’t long before I threw my hands in the air and prayed out loud for someone to “tell me what to do!”

And then, someone did.


I phoned a Sports Medicine physician in Wisconsin, Dr. James Mullen with Premier Physical Medicine and Wellness Clinic, to tell him about the injury. (Willow trained with him in a speed and agility course all last summer). Dr. Mullen is a six-time member of the U.S. National Speed Skating Team and an inductee of the Wisconsin Soccer Association Hall of Fame.  He also has multiple top 200 American Birkebeiner finishes (x-country skiing marathon) and still actively races.

When I told Dr. Mullen about Willow’s injury, he couldn’t help but express his disappointment given that last summer’s training was all about ACL injury prevention (ugh!) And before I even asked his opinion regarding the procedures, he advised us to go with the hamstring replacement for Willow.

“Hamstring has gotten a bad rap in the past,” he said, “but today the surgery includes braiding of the tendon to make it stronger, as well as a vastly improved reattachment technique. There’s far less of a chance of stretching.” Mullen went on to say that it would be the surgery he’d chose for himself.

Can you guess how many surgeries these girls represent?

The athletic trainer at Sabino High School, Connie Rauser, who conducted a drawer test on Willow and used her knee as the subject of one of her sports medicine classes, was, like Dr. Tucker, certain of an ACL tear. She, too, recommended the hamstring replacement surgery.

Finally, it was Willow herself who decided hamstring was the way she wanted to go. And as she so often will remind me that this is HER life, in the case of her torn ACL and replacement surgery, she was quick to point out as well that this was indeed, HER knee.


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Saturday, April 09, 2011

Real Soccer Moms

“Soccer moms drive minivans . . . but this girl drives a Bentley.”
—Peggy Tanous from the Real Housewives of Orange County, BRAVO TV.


Peggy Tanous, you can kiss my sweet, round soccer ball-shaped ass.

What I mean to say is good for you and your new role as a “Bravolebrity” on BRAVO TV’s Real Housewives of Orange County. I hope you have a lot of fun, make a lot of new friends and have many opportunities to support your darling little daughters. But please, do us ALL a favor—particularly the REAL soccer moms who might tune in to watch you every once in a while—stick to what you know: Namely, your fake blonde hair, your fake big boobs, your babies’ modeling careers, your bullets, your bling, and, of course, your Bentley.

Bravo has cast you as a real housewife and you are a good fit for your region not only due to all of the above, but also because in a series that spans across the country—focusing on Beverly Hills, New York, Atlanta, etc.—you’re one of the few women who actually is a housewife!


The Housewives series has become very popular and many dub the shows a “guilty pleasure.” For me, they’ve been mildly entertaining in the mindless television department that helps put me to sleep at night, and I’ve found that even though I can’t stand most of the women on these shows, I actually like some of them very much. Heck, if they want to put their lives out there for all of us to see and judge, like them or not, you have to admit these women have guts. And I really like that Andy Cohen guy, who regularly interviews all of the housewives on his series, Watch What Happens Live. He tries to make sense of their antics and pokes fun at the same time. Talk about having guts!

Ultimately, I feel many of us watch shows on TV, reality or otherwise, not only to be entertained but also to feel some kind of empathy. We want to relate and, perhaps justify or learn about things going on in our own lives. It occasionally happens for me when watching the housewives, but a lot of it is about competition, gossip, fighting, and bullshit behavior more suited to middle-school girls than middle-aged housewives. So, I mostly sit back in judgment and thank God for my “normal life.”


In my normal life, I am a soccer mom. So this is why this Peggy chick from O.C. struck a nerve from the first minute I heard her make a seemingly derogatory comment about soccer moms. (You can hear her say it too as it’s her defining statement each week in the show’s opening segment).


Listen up Peggy, while you’re freaking out over your daughter’s miniscule cut from a plastic sandwich container and rushing her to the emergency room, each year 220,000 real SOCCER MOMs are dealing with their daughters’ ACL injuries, and facing reconstruction surgery and months of rehab. I happen to be one of them. And I, for one, would appreciate it if you didn’t make sweeping generalizations about ANYTHING having to do with who we are or what we do.

And one more thing, bitch . . . FYI: I don’t drive a minivan. I drive a BENZ.




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