Friday Jams

Posted on November 1, 2013 by tosabarbell

When we went to FInland last March and were picked up at the local airport by Champions League co-founder and promoter, Ilkka, we jumped into his stylish zoom zoom and took off for the 20 minute trek to the mountainside resort, Ruka. It was a beautiful spring day with a light dusting of snow and even more snow coming off the cars in front of us. Between Ilkka’s lead foot; his texting and Facebooking; talking with Bigg about stuff and the loud radio, it was quite a ride. Macklemore’s Thrift Shop came on the radio, clearly a favorite of Ilkka’s because the already loud radio got turned up to a respectable shake the windows level. From that moment on, anytime I hear that song, I think of Ilkka and that drive.

Fast forward to Lithuania, Our driver was one of the young men who work at Z’s gym complex and had minimal English. VERY minimal! When we jumped into his car, Roar by Katy Perry was playing on the radio. Now, I’d heard this song of course on this side of the world and thought it was stupid. “Roarrrrrr,er,er,er,er,er’r’r!” SRSLY? This is the shite on our radio. But I guess this is the shite on everyone’s radio. When the radio announcers said the song was sung by Katy Perry, I said I hadn’t even known she sang that song. Then I said it was a stupid song. Which I immediately felt bad about because that’s one word of English our escort recognized and he turned the station. I felt bad. Fucking rude Americans. But now when I hear this song…I think of Lithuania…before I turn it off.

And talking about interesting young people in Lituania (that’s called a segue;) I had previously mentioned our hostess for the Strongman weekend, Vaida.

Vaida works for Z and is one the most delightful; smart; gorgeous; stylish; witty; slings the fun teasing she got from the big boys right back at ’em; high heel wearing young lady’s I’ve ever met. Her English was very good and she even helped me find some prizes for the kids back home.

Vaida was in charge of making sure all these Strongman were bussed, fed, accounted for, teased, and even went above and beyond the call of duty as she was sent to Svend’s room to get him going Sunday morning. He didn’t answer her knocks…he regretted that later;) Just LOOK at her! She is really one of the tiniest people I’ve ever been around, when you hug her, she disappears. The restaurant that fed us Saturday and Sunday was in a mall across the way from the Arena. It was a nice little walk, nothing too much for tired big guys. But those 5″ heels of hers! How in the hellz did she walk for two days straight in those heels going back and forth and even having to RUN back on Sunday to grab the locker room key that Z had back at the restaurant. When I asked her how she walked in those shoes she said she has to wear them or she becomes invisible (a fact that is actually untrue since we saw her Monday morning in jeans and no heeled boots and she still manages to turn every head in the room.)

She was a delight and kept everyone in check (a ginormous task with these guys;) and smiled the entire weekend. She also has prizes going her way from Wisconsin. I have no idea how old Vaida is, I’m guessing mid 20’s. She’d lived in Belgium for a year and came back home to be close to her family. This is something I love about Europeans, moving to another country so young is no big deal. Give it a try, it may work out, it may not. Learn to speak Dutchie, no problem. They’re awfully cool. Vaida was our hostess with the mostess and made the entire weekend fun and completely stress free (well, for me anyway, I wasn’t competing;) Heeeheeeee.

Enjoy the weekend.

Few enjoy noisy, overcrowded functions. But they are a gesture of goodwill on the part of host or hostess, and also on the part of guests who submit to them.

Fannie Hurst

Training Log

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Favorite

Posted on October 31, 2013 by tosabarbell

It’s the day we’ve been waiting for all year, Halloween! My favorite. I already bitched last year about the bizarre trick or treat “scheduling” of Milwaukee and surrounding areas which gives the impression that the actual Halloween DAY is passed over with nary a BOO!

But this year we get to share it with Bigg’s sister and her family up the road. It seems the children of Brookfield are able to handle the task of trick or treating on a school night, unlike the fragile children of ‘Tosa. Rain is in the forecast, I don’t care. It’s Halloween and it’s the best day ever.

One of my favorite Halloween’s was when I was probably around six or seven. It was the night before, late the night before the big day. So late that as we walked INTO Zayer’s Shoppers City they were making the announcement that the store would close in “X” number of minutes. We had to be quick in our costume picks. My older brother chose something like the above. A very scary, hot, plastic mask and a type of overlay covered smock for the costume. I chose a princess with an awesome crowned mask and baby blue dress. And a wand. I think I had a wand. Why do princesses carry wands?

Because we were so late we split up the team to ensure that we got everything. Girls went flying towards the girl section, Dad and Jerry went flying towards the boys. We met up at the cash registers as lights were literally starting to be turned off when my Mom realized they had forgot the candy which was way in the back of the store.

I can still see the determined look of Pastor John (dad) as he yelled to my mom, ‘Stall!’ and sprint off for candy. The poor check out lady (no way in those days did they trust a till with teenagers) repeatedly was telling my mom to get going. To her credit, my mom kept digging through her ginormous mom purse saying she couldn’t find her wallet until dad ran up with about 10 bags of candy. We NEVER bought that much candy!! Score one for Dad!

I don’t remember the weather the next day; the obvious boatload of candy we received; I assume I was awesome in my princess mask but I don’t remember; all I remember is my dad pulling out an Usain Bolt like sprint to get the candy.

That’s fun. Happy Halloween, may it be memorable…in a good way.

Hobgoblins know the proper way to dance:
Arms akimbo, loopy legs askew,
Leaping into darkness with delight,
Lusting for the ecstasy of fright,
Open to the charm of horrors new….

Nicholas Gordon

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In The Suck

Posted on October 29, 2013 by tosabarbell

Goalie and her dog

I mentioned in yesterday’s post an assistant football coach of Oz’s that walked off the field during their last practice in frustration and took all of the gear, leaving his kid. It’s very Godfather…leave the kid, take the cannoli (I mean gear.) Well, what I didn’t get into was the minor e-mail shit storm that happened afterwards. There seems to be a need for some damage control when a coach loses his cool during a practice.

A few parents weren’t as Caribbean (relax mon, it’s all good) about the whole situation as we were over here. And I quickly realized why. History. Some parents have history with this guy in other coaching situations. It quickly brought me back to being a sport parent in small town Minnesota while my twins were child athletes in the intense, D1 Scout’s crowding the bleachers sports such as indoor soccer; volleyball; outdoor soccer (which only lasted one season as Za took an ice cold ball to the face and declared her soccer career officially over.) Not all walks down memory lane are pleasant. This one is the hardest.

This is the story I want to tell these parent’s whose frustration have bubbled up enough to walk into each season on edge in the knowledge that only a few (few being a couple handfuls of dads) folks run the show of youth sports to stick close to their own kids. Yes, these people give their time and energy to coach and that should always be appreciated. But there’s a reason why Minneapolis and surrounding hockey associations have the rule in place that parents can not coach their own child’s team. It’s called nepotism and in many cases, rules small town or association athletics until these dad’s need to release their kids into the High School sports.

In Hutchinson, there seemed to be a hierarchy in place. There were the dads with money who coached. They were the cool guys (remember, many of these dads were born and raised in Hutchinson. Never left. If they were cool in High School, they were still cool. If they weren’t, well just move cuz you’ll never be…unless you have big money or a big title.) The next layer of  guys were those that could socialize with the cool guys at sports functions but not outside of them.

Then there was the 3rd layer, in my opinion, the worst. The outliers. Those who so wanted to be part of the cool group that they would do anything; say anything; sell shit on anyone to be taken into the cool group just for a moment or two. These were the assistant coaches. Didn’t quite hold enough power for a head coach position, but willing to do the grunt work to be a part of it. It was high school. And I hated high school.

But this story is about my failure, not theirs. The problem with living in a town 2.5 miles long in the middle of corn fields is that your world becomes very small. Politics in youth sports took on too much meaning, making me miserable and therefore my children miserable. I was hard on them. So hard on them. Be the perfect athlete. Not the best, but the most perfect. See, we weren’t even on the radar of the layers of cool to dud’s, we were outsider’s. Newbies. So work the hardest, absolutely no goofing off, just fucking work and shut up about it. Or something to that affect. Don’t give any of these cool guys any ammunition as to why they won’t play you.

It was a mess. I basically stole, little by little, as much fun from youth sports as I possibly could. My Zac, who was dribbling a basketball before he could walk; is still one of the most athletic people I know and who will excel at anything he tries, slowly lost his love for sports. I did that. Me. I let the cool guys come into our home and make sports miserable. My thinking was the more I fought the cool guys, the more reason would be used and EVERYONE would have a fair shot at playing. But the cool guys ruled, actually probably still do and there’s not a damn thing we can do about it.

So I learned. But I took down my Zs in the process. Unacceptable. Yes, I’ve apologized. Yes, they’ve moved on. But it’s a mark on my heart. Probably always will be.

So now I see these sets of parents and their mounting frustration at this coach’s ability to continue to behave badly in youth sports and I just want to say, let it go. Back off and let it go. Stay out of it. Your kid is fine, stay out of it. Make this stuff fun, don’t get so far in the suck that you lose sight of the fact that the purpose of youth sports is to make friends; learn some skills; and enjoy the post game treats. If they’re not having fun and it’s because the coach isn’t playing them, do your best to find help. If one coach won’t answer your e-mails, go to another one. But stay out of the suck. It frustrates you and ultimately may take some joy out of this sport thing for your kid. Look around, are there other kids not playing? Talk to their parent’s, not in a bitching way but in a ‘is there some other help we can get so our boys improve’ way?

And if it’s bad enough that you absolutely can’t stay quiet, send a well written, non emotional letter stating your concerns to the board or the A.D. THEN let it go. We recognize that youth sports must balance learning AND winning. We want to win, we want our kids to win, coaches want a winning record. That’s ok. It’s ok to want to win. As parents we want our kid to be part of that win, yes? That’s fair and when that doesn’t happen, it makes us look for answers. That’s fair also. But when growing frustration begins to chip away at the fun kids are having, we’re too far in the suck. Back away. Keep it fun.

We obviously had expectations for Oz this year. Work hard, pay attention, be a good teammate. With coach Courtright’s help, he met those terms. Reasonable, I’ve become reasonable in my elder age. I wish I would have found that 15 years ago.

Do you know what my favorite part of the game is? The opportunity to play.

Mike Singletary

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Monday: 3 and 5…Barely

Posted on October 28, 2013 by tosabarbell

I fully admit, I grew up with a skewed view of what a football coach is. This guy. Bud Grant. Stoic; pissed off; the kind of man giants such as Carl Eller bow down to. No muss no fuss. No temper tantrums; knew the rules; grow your men mean. Watching guys like Coach Grant and Tom Landry on the sidelines of NFL teams as I grew up put in my head THAT’s what football coaches look like.

In my opinion, there are hundreds (if not thousands) of youth football coaches who could watch some old film of these legends. Cuz if they didn’t throw temper tantrums? Neither can you.

I’ve mentioned before that Bigg’s dad (four year OT starter at Iowa in his day) said that Oz’s only job this year in football is to have fun. Now is the time you instill a love for the game. Now is the time you begin to understand fundamentals and maybe recognize them here and there during games. But love of game. That’s what youth sports are for. Uhhhhhh…ringing youth coaches; please pick up youth coaches.

At the beginning of Oz’s season, head coach (HC) sent out an e-mail stating his expectations; how he’ll determine play time; scheduling notes; etc. I will say this about HC, he kept us all in the know. Weekly e-mails giving detail of the practice schedule, upcoming game schedule and locations. I for one, not knowing the difference of Brookfield East and Brookfield Central appreciated these notes. We also knew, work hard in practice, you play. Don’t, and you may not. Ok.

Bigg and I watched a very early season practice one night. HC was hanging with the linesmen and a few didn’t want to pay attention. So he yelled at them and walked away. Uhhhhh, ok. I guess that’s one way of doing it. Or maybe ‘sit your ass down until I tell you to get up and if you don’t want to practice hard that little piece of grass is your new home for the season.’ That’s how I roll. No yelling; no whining; play or sit. Establish up front. Harsh? Uhhhhh, have you met me? Lay it out there immediately, then mommy and daddy don’t have to guess why you’re not playing.

Enter game one. Oz played most of the game, offensive and defensive lines, did ok. Not great. Slow off the line, hesitant but overall not bad for his first game. And that was it. The second game went by with him getting in one play in the last minute of the game. Hmmmmm. Interesting. Next game, one or two plays at the end of the game. Hmmmmmm, time to find out what’s what. Oz and Bigg (and by Bigg I mean here was there, didn’t say a word. If Oz wanted to play, Oz needed to do the talking) met with the lines coach and asked what was going on. It seemed he wasn’t paying attention as good as he could at practice and wasn’t learning as fast as the HC wanted him to. Ok. Now we know, what do we do about it? Here’s where this guy came in…

Lines coach Courtright said something to the effect of, ‘Tell you what. I believe Oz can be a good player, a great player even. He just doesn’t have the skills or confidence right now. I can come in before practice and work with him if he’s willing to work hard.’ Boom! Someone willing to put the time in to make a difference. Coach Courtright is the Bud Grant of the junior raiders. Stern, matter of fact, but will do whatever he can personally do to see him linesmen succeed.

Week after week, Oz worked with him while he continued to sit the sidelines. Oz stayed positive, started paying closer attention during the games, cheered on good plays and supported his team. Although my frustration was growing at his not playing, I am proud of the way he handled it. And he stayed glued to coach Courtright. No fucking off and it worked. The second to last game (we were in Lithuania) Oz was listed as one of the Captain’s and won a coveted Crunch bar award for hard work after the game. (Three Crunch bars were given post game for hard work.) At last weekend’s game, he played probably half the time. Did good and had a kick ass block the last play of the game.

Because of coach Courtright, Oz’s first football season was a complete success. We owe him so much and are so thankful and appreciative for his added help and influence for Oz.

Unfortunately, all were not as lucky. Many kids went the entire season getting in on one or two plays a game. A few of the kids screamed at the HC during a game and still stayed in the game. (Uh, little dude? You even think about raising your voice or giving me lip during a game and I Lou Holtz your ass off the field and send you straight to your mommy and you’re done. DONE!) HC was often seen throwing his hat to the ground in frustration; raising his hands to the sky in a WHYYYYYYYYY motion; and his screaming jumped the shark about 3 minutes into each game.

The last practice of the year saw one assistant coach (HC was away on business) get so mad he took the equipment off the field and went home, leaving his kid behind. Uhhhh, what? You what? Wait a minute, let me get this straight…you are so out of control that a bunch of 7th graders that you had no control of (remember, you’ve trained the kids that they’ll be yelled at but not dealt with the first week of the season. Your fault) pissed you off so bad that instead of making them sprint until the non-offenders got salty enough to tell their teammates to STFU, you just took your football and went home? Like, ummmm, oh I dunno…a 7th grader?

Yup. That happened. Practice was declared finished before it was supposed to, Oz jumped on his bike and came home slightly disappointed that the season practices ended so crappy. But we were one of the lucky one’s. We live a couple blocks away and Oz always rode his bike to practice. Those who waited around for rides either went in to watch a girls volleyball game (smart boys;) or walked somewhere else to call for rides. All because a youth coach can’t keep his shit together long enough to understand HIS behavior was unacceptable. (Rumor has it this guy has done this before. Maybe youth sports isn’t for you dude. Ya think?)

I personally know of a couple boys who would come home from games in tears because they didn’t play at all this season. I personally know of at least one person who attempted to discuss with HC why their son wasn’t playing and HC blew them off. I’ve heard rumblings of at least 5 kids who won’t be back. On the one hand, that’s very common in youth sports. Kids realize they don’t like a sport for one reason or the other and move on. But if little johnny isn’t coming back because of poor behavior by a coach? Unaccpetable.

My little rant to shitty youth coaches? You suck. You take all of YOUR youth failures and insecurities and lay them down on kids you can bully and those of us who have been around the block know it. You are a small, small person and the lasting impression of doubt you’ve just left on potential great athletes or just people in general in the form of children will leave a permanent black mark on your heart. It will follow you everywhere and you will continue to show the lack of balls you own in everything you do. Screw you.

As for Oz? He’s stoked to get under the bar; deadlift; press; get his bench to a respectable 7th grade level; play COD Ghost; be a 7th grade dork with the rest of his 7th grade dork friends; guard the perimeter of dangerous tosa; clean dog poop for his Ma (ok, maybe he’s not so stoked about that) and just move on. No scars; no hard feelings.

But we had coach Courtright. OH! When all is said and done with coaches temper tantrums and kids riding the bench all season? We went 3 and 5. I think we only won two games but Oz was pretty adamant that it was three. 3 and 5 dude. HC? You just Jim Harbaugh’d a season for 3 and 5. At least HE made it to the super bowl and his tantrums are kinda funny. Yours crush kids.  But not mine. We survived the season of youth football confidence intact.

Leadership is getting someone to do what they don’t want to do, to achieve what they want to achieve.

Tom Landry

Training Log

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