A Book Excerpt for Parents of Budding Sports Stars from Soccer Is Fun without Parents (Jonas): Introduction -- Background and Why the Book Was Written

 

As folks get ready to settle in to some great yelling, screaming, and cheering for today's Super Bowl, we offer readers a look at the everyday players, the kids who might grow up to be stars, and how their parents affect them and the game. Jonas is a long-term sports coach, and his insights and humor make for a wonderful, easy, and inspirational read in Soccer Is Fun without Parents. 

I never played soccer growing up but my son, Kevin, latched onto it about the same time he learned how to walk. I have learned how to love the sport by watching kids play and being a high school referee. Apparently, Americans don’t find the sport exciting; not enough scoring, too many dives by players, slow action, etc.  Have you ever watched a baseball game? Come on. Any NFL game typically entails only 11 minutes of actual playing time compared to 18 minutes in baseball, and 90 minutes in soccer. Despite what many Americans say about the sport, there is only one thing that needs to be fixed in soccer: parents. 

When Kevin was about 12 years old, he tried out for a select team and made it. Little did my wife and I know that a select team means that you will only spend a few select nights and weekends at home. We travelled—a lot. Members of the FC (Football Club) lived in the greater Milwaukee area, but we travelled—every weekend it seemed like—to Chicago, the Midwest, outside the Midwest, the Dallas Cup, and any other tournaments with Cup in the title. FC was very successful, and the team won its fair share of games and tournaments, and of course, every parent assumed that their son would be getting a full ride to any college of their choosing. Not only does this not happen, but very few kids even get partial scholarships. Soccer does not exactly bring in the money that American football does. One time I made the mistake of calculating how much money I spent on soccer travel in one year, and let’s just say that I paid for college several times over, so why was I worried about a scholarship?

We were thrilled when Kevin was selected for the FC team, and without much notice we were informed the team had a tournament that weekend. We travelled (of course) down to southern Illinois, about three hours away. It was great fun meeting all the kids and the parents—who I would spend more time with than my own wife over the next ten years. We arrived at the field for our first game of our first tournament. It was spring, so the temperatures had to be in the 40s with a brisk wind. Little did I know that I would spend most of my young adult life freezing, enduring the rain, and missing anything else of interest that transpired on a Saturday, because I was out on the “pitch.”  Maybe that is why parents are always yelling, they are just trying to stay warm.

I found a nice spot on the sidelines with my new friends. All the parents were huddled around one person, Tom, who appeared to be the leader of the group. He was collecting money, writing down information in a scratch pad and talking to everyone. I soon came to find out that he was taking bets on when (not if) a fellow parent, Bob, would be kicked out of the soccer match by the referee. Apparently Bob was a screamer, which you will read about later in this book. He loved to simply yell at the ref, yell at the coaches, yell at the players, and even yell at the other parents.  Bob certainly did not let us down in the first game. Just after the start of the second half, Bob yelled out that his son was fouled with nothing called. “Come on ref, my son got sandwiched! You should know something about sandwiches.” Let’s just say that the referee was not a slender man and he did not take kindly to Bill’s comment—which was simply one of hundreds already hurled at the officials throughout the match. The ref had had enough, and he came running over.  To be honest, it was not even really a run. It was more of a waddle. Bob knew what was coming and wanted to get his money’s worth. So, he screamed, “That is the fastest I have seen you run all day. Oh my gosh, it is a runaway bowling ball.”  Bob was then ceremoniously kicked out of the park as Tom quietly distributed money to the winner of the pool. 

I soon came to realize that this was the norm. Parents certainly care about the game, but they care more about how their son, or daughter, is treated. There is certainly a wide-array of characteristics displayed by parents at soccer matches. Some are quiet as mice, some are very knowledgeable and simply admire the beautiful game, but too many are yellers, screamers, complainers, and simply out of line. This book focuses on the good, the bad, and mostly the ugly parents at soccer matches. People do not pay attention to boring information, so we will concentrate on the “non-boring” parent. I am not going to let you know which category I fit in, or how many categories I fit in. However, the moral of the story is that this book takes a humorous side of soccer (parents) and tries to identify the lifelong lessons that soccer can teach. 

Read more posts about Peter Jonas and his book HERE.