Don’t you hate when you get volunteered for something? It usually happens when you don’t even have a clue it’s occurring. For example, not showing up to a work meeting typically gets you nominated for some inexplicable and unrewarding office activity like empty-bottled-water focal. Suck.

Somehow, I was thrust into head coaching my son’s soccer team. Also, I really didn’t think Son #1 was going to play this season. But my wife brainwashed the both of us into the sport again. Last soccer season, I was an assistant coach on his team. It was just the right amount of commitment with not too much responsibility. What parent would want me to be their kid’s coach considering my potty mouth and poor attitude?

So I thought I’d volunteer again this season as an assistant. That didn’t last long as Kent Parks called and inquired whether I’d be the head coach for Son #1’s team. That sounds like a lot of responsibility. My wife felt my impacted schedule could handle one more commitment and spread the word about me coaching. Coerced into it, I called Kent and committed. Looking back, those were a great eight weeks of obligation I never thought I wanted to commit to.

In August, I picked up the coaches packet which had the roster, schedule, rules, head trauma forms, and every other legal and/or informative memo imaginable. This is Kindergarten-1st Grade soccer, right? What’s with all the propaganda? We had a team of 12 kids; 10 boys and two girls. The Angels; it didn’t sound like an entirely threatening name when compared to the Meteors or Mustangs. But no one laughed after we throttled other teams.


When the season started, we had a variety of skills, experience, and interest in the game. Focus at the first two practices was scattered for both the players and me. Numerous searches on the Google for drills for 5 year olds left me with not much. Wouldn’t have mattered, the kids just wanted to play. So I was reserved to doing a few kicking and dribbling drills and then on to scrimmaging to introduce fundamentals in a game scenario. That seemed to work the best.

This league played on a much bigger field than last season. It was eight versus eight players WITH goalies. The great thing was that we never had a shortage of kids wanting to play goalie. Because it was a novelty, every kid jumped at the chance to play in the net. And after the first game of the season, we never gave up more than one goal per game. Stonewallin’ suckas.

Kent likes to promote good sportsmanship religiously. Emails, letters, and other reminders were sent to us coaches to keep our players’ parents off of the refs and to not laugh at kids when they get shelled in the head. Additionally, we weren’t supposed to keep score during the games or our overall record. We’d be idiots to think our kids can’t count and aren’t conscious of how they are playing. During games after we were hammered goals on the opposition, our kids would do victory laps by me for a high five and a reminder that we have ‘x’ goals now coach.

Without keeping score or accounting for our record, we were 6-2 for the season. We were destroyed 5-1 in our first game. After that, no team scored more than one goal against us. As a matter of fact, we played the team from that first game again and shut them out 3-0. It’s our second loss is the game that really resonates with me. If I had to pick, it was my favorite game despite losing 1-0. Even at an offensive disadvantage, we spent the entire game was on the opposition’s side of the field. We just kept pounding them over and over. It wasn’t until late in the game when they finally got past midfield and made a goal.

In this game I saw so much teamwork and togetherness. There was a unity. They were friends having fun and the game was beginning to come naturally to them. They had collectively turned a corner. I was so proud how hard they played leaving everything on the field. We were disappointed in the loss, but the effort and teamwork was epic. In each game, our kids kept progressing. We started with varying degrees of skill in each kid. But by the end, each kid was amazing and we were working as a team. Not to mention that I really saw a competitive fire in the kids burning brighter each week. They wanted to win. It was apparent at practice and during games.

And then the last game. A little bitter sweet as the season was coming to an end. The last game was a massacre of the other team, 7-0. We had four different kids score goals and we dominated defensively. But more importantly, the kids were laughing and smiling the entire game. It was light-hearted, except when I substituted them out for a water break. Chirping in my ear, letting me know they wanted back in. I couldn’t believe the effort of everyone. Stealing the ball and passing through defenders to a teammate for a breakaway. Things just seemed to click.

At the beginning of the season, I had no idea what I was doing, or where we were going as a team. I didn’t want the kids to have a horrible experience nor have the parents pissed at my techniques. And now, I can’t even imagine a week without my team. Thursdays and Saturdays are sure going to be different now. This has been such an empowering experience. Much better than the previous season. It was such an honor sharing time with the kids, teaching them teamwork, and inspiring them to win. I’m glad I could be a positive role model in their lives. More people should aspire to be this to kids. After all, they are the legacy we leave behind. Of course my team leaves a wake of dismantled teams in their path. Don’t hate, my team could beat your team too.

Opportunities to learn more about yourself always seem to crop up at the most inopportune times. I suppose that’s what makes these moments the most poignant. They stay with you longer when attention is brought at the moment of inconvenience. For example, if you like to drive with no pants on while texting your Uncle Bob and get in a car wreck doing it, the next time you’ll probably consider wearing trousers so that when you get out of the car to inspect the damage in your ill-contrived desire to be temperately ‘cooler’ when driving, you will not be embarrassed by your bare white behind in plain sight.

I digress. Now I don’t drive without pants nor do I have an Uncle Bob. Regardless, I had one of those moments today where I was educated by the universe on what matters.

A typical Saturday in my house is usually triple booked. There’s never a shortage for activities and obligations. This was the final weekend of operation of the Whistler Bike Park before winter. Wanted to hit that one last time. It was Homecoming at my undergrad Alma Mater. Despite my college football team’s inability to field a successful squad, I still held on to the hope of making the trip to Pullman. Beer flavored water. Lastly and most importantly, Son #1’s weekly ‘soccer’ game was on the schedule.

In the essence of full disclosure, I wasn’t too excited to head to the Panda soccer game today. I didn’t get too much choice in the matter. For one, I wouldn’t want to disappoint Son #1. In fact, he was concerned this morning that I wouldn’t be back in time from my bike ride to make it to his game. And second, I’m the assistant coach on the Pandas’ team. You see, the Pandas haven’t been real competitive over their three games. But the head coach and I continue to work with them on learning to dribble, pass, and score goals. I keep telling myself that they’re only four years old. This point alone has given me an unwanted lesson in learning patience and the appreciation for the purity of fun while playing sports long before winning, losing and statistics.

We’ve taken some beatings. Last Saturday we were trumped by a score somewhere close to 6-0. But we don’t ‘keep score.’ Today no bike jump or keg could have satisfied the unparalleled joy experienced while helping coach the Pandas to their first ‘un-scored’ victory. We saw our team mark their opponents, steal the ball, save goals, change directions, and score literally a dozen goals. There’s a kid on our team that you watch and just know he’s going to have a ton of success in whatever sport he chooses. He’s a great little kid who plays hard, takes instruction, and always gives you the thumbs up for approval. Today, he came uncorked and scored seven goals.

Four year old kid soccer is more like a swarm of bees than a soccer game. All of the kids, minus the ones who are dancing, singing, or not paying attention, create a scrum around the ball with elbows thrown, shoving, and body blows. But today, there were break away goals where our team decided that wrestling for the ball was passé. It was a break through. Son #1’s teammate had those seven goals, but he made many great ‘team style’ plays. Defending and passing to his teammates. But the big picture was that EVERY Panda wanted to play and participate. My position is on the sideline making the substitutions and keeping the kids who are not playing energized. Today, took very little effort to keep them fired up. All of the kids were ready and were constantly asking me to put them in the game. A complete team playing well and having fun is infectious and breeds more fun and excitement. The kids played so hard and had so much fun. As a coach, and a father of a player, I don’t think I could be more proud of our team’s success today, scoring or not.

That leads me to the lessons today. Son #1 had a rough morning. His latest thing is to try and negotiate when he ‘should’ do what he is told. That, getting him to eat his lunch, and getting him to get dressed were all challenges. My wife and I asked him, “Who is going to score a goal today?” God forbid we put too much pressure on our unfocused child. He responded with a despondent, “I’ll try but it’s just so hard.” That remark made me wonder if he was even having fun. I was worried that I was ‘that parent’ focused on pushing his child too hard to ‘ensure’ that the kid was having fun. Pushing to have fun is not right. Lesson #1.

We all wondered what the 7-goal Panda was eating at home to cause this. But he wasn’t the only one that surprised us. Son #1 scored today. As a matter of fact, he scored three unanswered goals and was the second highest scorer on the team. This is the beginning of Lesson #2. No matter what’s going on, when the unreal expectations you have set for your child are beat like a pack mule and are completely blown away, you feel totally throttled with emotion.


After stepping into the scrum and liberating the ball from its oppression, Son #1 broke free at midfield and headed toward the goal. All by himself, he booted in his first goal of the game and the season. Watching this happen was surreal. I wish time would have stopped for me to just cherish that small moment. It happened so fast. That first goal. I was on the other end of the field with the rest of the team but I saw the play develop and was beside myself. As he headed toward the goal, I worried he’d stop dribbling and start dancing. That’s his thing. But he kept on and booted the ball into the goal with authority. When the ball rolled over that line and hit the back of the net, my arms raised high and my eyes welled up with the largest tears of joy. For the next few seconds, I struggled to wipe the tears from my eyes and remain composed. There was cheering but I was so lost in my son’s action that I heard nothing but the silence of a smile all the way across the field. Absolute, undeniable joy and pride.

Son #1 went on to score two more goals today. After that third goal, he ran over to me during the game to inform me of his feat. Three goals. While I haven’t written too much about how I felt, know that no alternate activity could have compared to the purest sense of pride a father can have in his son. Yes, it was only soccer and only three goals, but his actions blew me away today. Lesson #2 is there is nothing more valuable than seeing your child succeed and knowing that he is enjoying that moment in his success. I will always love that.

For those of you who frequent the ramblings on this blog, you may remember that I deemed the last Monday of every month to be “New Music Monday.” My theory was that on this epic day, I’d incrementally increase the volume of our music catalog. Then, I would spend some time listening to the new addition, or additions, let the sound percolate and bounce around in my head, and eventually write up my own little review. What I found is that I am not patient enough to wait until the end of the month to buy new music. So let’s retool here. I am going to ‘try’ to write my review on the last Monday of each month and buy music whenever. I’m all ready late on my first issue. Shit.

September was a great month to be a music listener in my house. One word that describes how I feel about music: Substance. It’s like a friend you can always count on. Everywhere you turn, it’s there. I like that kind of reliability. I encountered a lot of new ‘friends’ in September. So getting to know each album was a daunting challenge. However, one record stuck out more than any other. The reason, as I will describe in further depth below, is because it encompassed many of the great things I like about music. I could hear so many influences on the record, artists and groups that also influenced me, so that I felt like I was listening to a family member talk to me.


The SoCal punk group Orange has been around for some time. There have been some changing of the guard through the years but the front man, Joe Dexter, and the vision of the band are still intact. Orange released its new album, Phoenix, on September 15, 2009. I wasn’t expecting it. As a matter of fact, my overall exposure to Orange was very limited. Like zero. However, I was listening to satellite radio when it got my attention and I scribbled the name of the band and song down on a post-it. Thanks to Lala.com and high speed bandwidth provided by the nation’s largest cable provider, I downloaded the latest Orange record.

Find it here: http://www.lala.com/#album/360569445168190460

So what is Orange? Do you mean the color? No, as I said above, it’s a SoCal punk band. It’s not as angry as Pennywise, as political as the Dead Kennedys, as comedic as the Offspring, or as fabricated as Story of the Year. Orange sits nicely in between these groups. It’s an entertaining almost-pop melodic punk that encourages the punk rowdiness through the music but lifts through its lyrics. No bashing the ‘Man’ here. Most of these songs are about feelings. So that makes Orange borderline emo on this record but the rest assured, the sound is confidently punk. I was giddy to listen to it as each track was upbeat and flowed into the next. The energy easily carries you through the record front to back. But there was no “Oh my God, this is the most amazing album I have ever heard.” It was more along the lines of being easily entertained by stories I could relate to or feelings that I have had. The songs, while not overly different musically from one another, allowed me to sit in the passenger seat of life for a minute and get an alternate take on the whole ‘feelings’ concept.

Phoenix has 12 tracks, covers a broad range of the musical spectrum, and draws on the diverse influences of the band. While I have listened to very little earlier Orange albums, I can say that Phoenix stretches the band both musically and lyrically as they try to develop their signature sound and mix genres. There is definitely a common Orange ‘theme’ through the record but each song pulls on its own uniquely creative strings. However, in lieu of time and wordiness, I am going to evaluate four of the songs which I feel give a fair slice of objectivity through the band’s recent release.

Standing Still – I would say that this is probably the most un-punk song on the album and was the first single off of it. This song has the most instrumentation of any of the other tracks. I personally like the whole xylophone action on it. I hear a lot of influence from the Cure on this song and I think musically that’s what catches me.

Everything I Need – This song just jumps right in like any good punk song should. You are immediately hit with a driving beat and guitar riff. The lyrics are introspective which is dangerously close to emo. The difference, no whining like a teenager who thinks they’re misunderstood. In my opinion, this is the best song on the record as the music changes direction multiple times and the message is right on.

Never Going Out Again – This song has such and east coast punk feel to it. It really reminds me of the Ramones. The chorus is an anthem and I can just visualize arms raised as this song is played in a club. Lyrically, the irony of not wanting to be like others but then following the herd is pretty accurate.

Catching Up – This song has the random chanting at the beginning that reminds me of a soccer game. I just want to slide tackle someone. The guitar work on this song is proto-typical crunchy SoCal punk. The lyrics are delivered with authority which reminds me of Rancid or the Misfits. I am sucker for SoCal punk.

If I had to set out must haves in a record, Phoenix by Orange would have hit most of them head on. The biggest one, does it keep my attention? The answer is yes. The big thing is that you can hear the diverse influences of the band. But it’s one thing to be influenced and it is another thing to copy. Orange does a great job pulling together their influences and using them appropriately in their music to yield an exceptional result. Most of the songs have outstanding choruses and all are anthemic and optimistic. Seems a little counter-intuitive for punk, right? Well there are several songs that are darker and there is even a cover of a Lou Reed piece called “Perfect Day.”

Overall, I would recommend Orange and their newest album Phoenix. It may not be innovative in its exploration of new themes or challenging when it comes to complex time or key changes, or even complex arrangements. But the music is energetic and the lyrics are encouraging. I personally like the fact that the band is not afraid to show an emotional side with a punk-type sensibility. I guess I can relate to this being the handful that I am.

Over the last two weeks, I have been inundated with and overly excessive amount of daily work activities which have kept from even thinking about my next entry here. It was one of the first times in my life where I was completely unable to fabricate some small piece of time to outlet a little creativity. For the most part, I have been pretty unhappy with how demanding life has been recently. There has been no shortage of obligations, commitments, and responsibilities. The incredible vacuum like sound of time being sucked right out of life has become the topic of discussion here.

This entry will definitely be more of a plethora of thoughts and happenings that have bestowed both positive and negative inspiration on me these last few demanding weeks. Based on pre-described rules I’ve mentioned in another post, I can’t discuss the near nazi-like, soul-clenching, life-draining demands of employment. Needless to say, the activities in the office have put a strangle hold on the neck of creativity for a many days. Just the amount of time needed in the day to meet deadlines was so excessive that I couldn’t even approach a topic shyly like a twelve year old at a junior high dance. To make matters worse, there was what is called a ‘Reduction in Force’ in the work place. Despite being worked like a pack mule, we were all waiting for our one-on-one meetings with management only to learn of our no longer needed useless skills sets. There is strange irony in working your ass off only to find out your position is a ‘surplus.’ To make a long story longer, I wasn’t reduced. This comes as both good and bad news. There’s a piece of me that needed the ultimatum to be reached. Then there is the responsible side that has the voice of my mother whispering in its ear about playing along and appreciating that I have steady income and healthcare from a global conglomerate.

Now that I’ve broke that rule, on to my next topic. I’ve mentioned that I am now the proud father of a soccer player. Son #1 is on a soccer team for four year olds called the Pandas. The name alone inspires fear in the masses, or at least scares the shit out of bamboo trees. To date, they have had a total of four practices which range in the volume of focus by the players and the amount of water breaks given by the coach. I have to keep reminding myself that these kids are only four years old. But I feel like we needed an hour (or ten) more of practice to explain some of the subtleties of teamwork and, I don’t know, maybe the game of soccer. So I volunteered to assist in keeping these hellions focused, enthused, and running. The first game has come and gone and if we were keeping score, I would estimate that the final score was 4-0. Pandas on the losing end of it. But because this is for ‘fun,’ we are not keeping score. I will say this based on my observations: While tough to communicate field boundaries, direction, teamwork, passing, competition, and the overall ‘feel’ of the game, the one thing that transcends and is totally understood is the purity of fun. Smiles. It is obvious in the Pandas’ smiles.



Next up: wedding anniversary. As a husband/male you are bound by some sort of rule set or societal obligation to fulfill some sort of ‘Oh he is such a sweetheart’ comment issued by your wife’s friends. I hate this pressure. When I am planning something for my wife or out shopping for her, I am constantly playing the ‘What did he do for you?’ track in my head. Because if your wife can’t answer this question with a beaming smile and equally beaming piece of jewelry or latest in fashion couture, you’re worthless drudge of slime found under the salty docks of the tide flats in Commencement Bay. Believe me, I’ve been there literally and philosophically. In the weeks leading up to our anniversary, I repeatedly thought about traditional and modern gifts and how I could assemble something meaningful that would successfully answer the above womanly questions, score me points with the wife in order to build credit toward my next two-wheeled purchase, and ultimately eclipse others and shine the light of inadequacy on the significant others of my wife’s friends. Good plan, right? Well, I had intended on multiple research and shopping days to execute on this plan. The Man got in the way with professional obligations, meetings, projects, and the general exercise of killing your creative soul. Needless to say, I nearly ran out of time but I was able to squeeze some research in on one day and then made five total stops during my lunch break and after work the next day. I couldn’t show up to my own anniversary without a gift(s). Crisis avoided. Wife happy and the anniversary was a good day.


The overarching theme here is about time or the lack of it. I don’t think I’ve ever been so consumed with every second of the day. They feel like they are just slipping through my hands. Think: cliché sands of time through your fingers here. I have always felt like I could handle everything thrown at me no matter the volume of responsibility or level of commitment. I would always find ways to milk a little more time out of the day. It’s like the enacting the Toyota philosophy upon my schedule management. For those of you who are not engineers or geeks like me, this is a reference to the Toyota manufacturing Lean philosophy of removing waste (not poop, but extra processes and useless handling) from the manufacturing system. As I grow up, I realize that it is a little more effort to manage the ever-slipping time resource. Man, where has the time gone.

By nature, I have a limited tolerance for people. This makes it challenging to be a father of two radically different, yet defiant boys. Considering that, at times I have been unreasonably hard on Son #1. It’s hard to look at him and not see a youthful, passionate version of myself glaring right back at me. So much of his personality and behavior are identical to my own. My wife says I am horribly impatient with him and alternately, I am all goo-goo-ga-ga with Son #2. She may be right on with this assessment. Son #2 doesn’t talk back to me. I think it’s hard at times when you are aware of your own deficiencies and see those in your child. You want with every fiber of your being to shake them and explain to them that those attributes will get them no where. But you can’t. For one, the ‘authorities’ seem to think that shaking your kid is inappropriate. Second, nature has to run its course and evolve in your own offspring.


I suppose I’m writing this entry because of my guilt and pride in an ever conflicting combat to find balance. Son #1 is a daredevil, a go-getter, and an exhibitionist. But he is also impatient, introverted, and in fear of failure. He wants so bad to impress, succeed, and be considered great. This is nothing like me (sarcasm). It’s easy to take for granted how special he is in our life. He’s a product of the pain and suffering of the past and the fortune and the future for a family that needs stabilization and a something to gravitate its last remaining positive energy. The pressure of this on his soul is unfair.

“I never tell you how much I think about you. I have so many hopes and dreams for you. But there are two things that scare me. The first is like any young father, I live with a fear that I’ll never be able to provide an environment where you can extend yourself and attain your dreams. I scratch and claw at everything to enable you to have a peaceful childhood. The second fear is much more difficult to explain. My expectations are so high for everything and get easily disappointed when they are not met. I have this vision for you that is fairly nebulous with no hard boundaries or distinct outcomes. It worries me how hard I could push you to push yourself to reach these levels and alienate our relationship.

I don’t want any elements of intolerance to morph into resentment. I really worry that I could be the oppression in your life that I have always fought against. In an effort to get the feeling out there, I want to simply explain how proud I am of you right now. It’s pretty easy to lose focus on the aspects of life that are most important. Cars, bikes, evenings out with friends, jobs, and vacations are just a couple of things that distract us. I don’t want to lose that focus on you. I am trying to do my best at taking stock in every moment with you because our days together are finite. For over five years, the vision of you and what you mean to me has carried me through some of my darker thoughts. You’ve given me a lot of hope.

My mornings are rough before work, and everyone who knows me knows that I am not a morning person. Some people need coffee, I need punk rock. But each morning, I wake you up and take you to the bathroom to pee so you don’t have an accident. It has been months, and I could probably stop this routine in my before-I-go-to-work procedure, but I find that there’s something peaceful about being annoyed by waking you up EVERY morning. Here’s why: I woke you up this morning and things were no different than normal. You rolled over, rubbed your eyes, and sat up on you knees throwing your arms out signaling me to lift you up and carry you to the bathroom. You went about your business and walked under your own power back to your bed. I pulled the covers over you and gently rubbed your shoulder and told you ‘good job’ as always. Then, like one million times before, you smiled at me. And that’s it. That never gets old.

Moments like that remind me that no matter the setback or the accomplishment, I’ll always love you for everything you are and everything you are not. I may not always want to hear you ramble about the toys in the sandbox or the fact that your one billion Lightning McQueen toys are building a trail in my living room. But I’ll always want to see your smile and will always take stock in you being my son. I am hard on you because I know you are every bit of me inside that little body and behind those blue eyes.”

Son #1 is on to his next activity. Soccer. I’ve always felt it was the sport for the paraplegic because you didn’t need arms to play. But I have a new appreciation for the sport with the Sounders being in town. I’ve been watching the games, asking questions, and even attended a match. So I’m learning. My wife has been explaining to me that soccer is a great sport for learning teamwork and camaraderie. So is the Hitler Youth Brigade. I just see a lot of running and I have one rule about that. Only run when you are being chased by the cops. September 19th I will be a soccer dad. I’m kind of stoked about this and I’m now wondering what it would take to be a coach. Probably knowledge of the game, more patience, and less tattoos. I can work on the first of those. So maybe I set my sights a little lower and volunteer to assist the ‘real’ coach. No worries, I can still work with the players to carry a swagger. I’ll even supply some temporary tattoos for the kids (since they are not of age) so we can give them all sleeves. They’ll look like hooligans and we can scare the opposition into pissing themselves.