Being a soccer coach comes with its downsides. One of which is having to be outside. What’s so bad about being outside? Weather is outside, that’s what! Weather is never just right. It’s too hot, too cold, too windy, too humid, too dry, too wet, too much snow, not enough snow. Blah, blah, bitch, bitch.
The world is full of outside. As one giraffe once said ‘aggh, nature, get it off of me!’
I’ve been outside a lot in my life. Normally its at some event, family trip or gathering, perhaps it’s just a quick dash from the house to the car, but it is outside. And outside is dangerous.
When you are a kid you don’t realise the dangers. Outside is fun. Though kids today are basement dwellers who never leave their x-boxes. Outside when you are a kid is when cool things happen. A trip to the fun fair, getting some ice-cream, playing some soccer, building sand castles, flying a kite. When you grow up its getting price gouged at the fun fair, your teeth are too sensitive for the ice cream, putting your knee/back out at a soccer game, getting sand in places you don’t want sand, spending five hours untangling a kite string. You get the picture, I’m a miserable old sod!
Problem is, outside has struck again.
This past weekend I took my U-12 boys soccer team to a tournament in Coldwater, Michigan. The boys have had a great season. Fall and Spring league champs, Fall Fest tournament winners. So taking them to the Section tournament was a no-brainer. And as this tale is not about them I’ll finish by saying they came 4th, a great effort as they played some great teams from Michigan and North Indiana.
Smart people would enjoy the warm weather. Me I would have enjoyed it too, if I wasn’t busy coaching. I was also too busy it seems to add any sunblock. The outside, or to be precise THE SUN, kicked my ass this weekend. Looking like a man auditioning for a band called the Red Man Group I cheered my boys on.
You would think at the age of 42 that I would know the answer to life the universe and everything, but yet I can’t spend two seconds with a can of spray that can stop my skin peeling off like a leper. And it’s not like it has not happened before. More than once have I suffered from sun stupidity.
As a kid a trip to the beach was a cheap day trip and sometimes we got to spend a long weekend in a caravan on the coast. A swim in the sea would wash off any sun cream the parents put on. Back then it was never water proof, but it did attract sand and bugs. Just a quick tangent here, take a look at the picture to the left. The North Sea. To my American readers who think that the sea is blue, yes it is….in Florida. The North Sea is a swirling freezing cold mud puddle of pollution. I always say if Jesus walked on water, he probably did it on the North Sea.
I’m off too Knoxville, Tennessee next week for the AYSO National Games, a week-long soccer tournament and a great place to improve my tan. I’m taking plenty of sunblock, but as a coach I can’t even remember to wear a watch, how am I going to remember to put on sunblock?
What I’ll do is left the Wifey rugby tackle me, and force spray me before we hit the fields. Great Idea.
Well perhaps not.
When we were in West Palm Beach for the 2010 National Games we got to spend a lot of time at Juno Beach, a place where I could retire to in a heart beat. So being the nice Wifey that she is she sprayed me down. Great, safe fun in the sun. What my darling Wifey failed to tell me is that half way through the can, it ran out.
I call this the superman look!