personal political

soccer mums

If you've been reading here for awhile, you'll know that our first experience of team soccer last year wasn't great. I suppose I should make that my experience, as I think Olle's experience was alright, though not wonderful.

I wasn't sure whether to join him up again this year and put the issue on the backburner over summer. Then the emails asking us to re-enrol started to arrive (the season starts awfully early). I prevaricated, then at the last minute decided to go ahead, as I thought that if we didn't, he'd be unlikely to play in a soccer team again and he's in the prime of his soccer-playing life, as far as enthusiasm goes. So I re-enrolled him but told the club organiser that we wanted to be in a team with a different coach, even if this meant being apart from his friend who was in the same team last year. (It felt like complete potluck - what if we ended up in a team which we again didn't like?)

cancelled due to foul play

Cross-posted at Larvatus Prodeo

Watching the sports news on TV last night left me with a bad taste in my mouth. The item about Australia’s latest cricket victory made no mention of the murder of Pakistan’s coach in the West Indies last week. Of course, why should it, when the World Cup goes on…

dakar

Cross-posted at Larvatus Prodeo, where the very first commenter called me "stupid".

It’s not often that the Vatican and I agree on anything, but I was pleased to read that they have criticised - I might even go so far as to say “attacked” - the Dakar rally as “a bloody, irresponsible, violent and cynical attempt to impose questionable Western tastes on the developing world”.

It’s not the first time they’ve criticised it - the Wikipedia link above has a reference to a 1988 Vatican article which called the rally a “vulgar display of power and wealth in places where men [sic] continue to die from hunger and thirst”. (And from being run over by rally vehicles.)

Now they go further and say that an “undeniable component of violence … lies behind every attempt to export Western models to human environments and ecosystems that have little to do with the West”.

Motor racing in general has no appeal for me at all, but whenever I see news clips of rally vehicles ploughing through the Sahara, it does always look like a violent imposition of metal on sand, of noise on silence, of arrogance onto people unknown.

A year ago Australian motorbike rider Andy Caldecott was killed in the Dakar Rally. In the days immediately following his death two children were killed by rally vehicles. Their deaths didn’t make headlines.

it's not cricket

I only watched the Darrel Hair 'ball-tampering' episode with one eye, ie not paying it much attention, though cricket as a game and an institution interests me. Now I've come across this article about the incident from the point of view of the 'developing world' - the global politics of cricket. It makes a lot of sense.

world cup politics

I was in a market town in southern Germany in 1982 when Germany played Italy in the World Cup final. My friend and I were the only people in the street. From every house came the sounds of the game on television, cheers and groans. Then at full time, complete silence. Germany had lost.

I'd thought I'd be in England this time around, but in fact I'll be in Ireland, which will be a minor shame if England happens to make it to the final (and wins). I am in fact hoping for them to win, which is not an impossible proposition.

Tony Karon, whose football blog is here and whose more general blog is here, has written an analysis of the politics of the World Cup here.

Olle watched the replay of the Iran vs Mexico match yesterday and announced that he was backing Iran, which made me smile. (They lost. It's entirely possible he switched to support Mexico as the game progressed, as he's still in the phase of only backing the winners.)

the vote ... and the re-vote

I'm going sour on the soccer team. Here's why.

At the end of training last week, the manager (a mother) called the boys together and said that as the team had no name (no nickname, that is - like the Sharks or the Dolphins or whatever - it appears to now be de rigeur for a sports team to have a nickname), she invited them all to go home and think of a name, write it down on a piece of paper and bring it to the match on Saturday so that it could be voted on.

Olle took her at her word. No sooner were we in the car than he asked me to hurry home as he had to write down his name: the Legends. I was surprised and impressed that he'd thought of this (not an animal name) within a few minutes. Pleased to see that flash of mental creativity. We went home and he immediately got out a large piece of paper, wrote the name and drew a picture of his team scoring a goal. We put it inside a plastic sheet for protection.

Saturday arrived and the name was carefully carried to the car to be taken to the match. It was a miserable day - rainy, windy. Players were late arriving. We stood around with umbrellas. The manager finally arrived and after a few minutes, I reminded her about the name vote. She'd forgotten. I handed her Olle's entry. She asked the boys to gather round and asked if anyone else had an entry. No. No one else had written down a suggestion. No one else appeared to have given it a moment's thought. But they began calling out names - the Tigers, the Socceroos (that one's taken), the Lions. Somehow all names were disgarded except the Legends and the Lions. She asked the boys to vote. Two voted for Lions, five voted for Legends. So, 5-2, the team was the Legends.

For about five seconds.

The coach grimaced at the manager - "Legends isn't the right sort of name for a kids' team. Lions is a better name. It can't be the Legends. There's a lion on our club logo on our shirts. It should be the Lions". One of the fathers added that he didn't think they understood what a legend was.

"They voted for it. Democracy should prevail" I said, trying to keep my voice lighthearted, though I felt dismayed.

The manager called the boys back again for another vote, asking Olle if he'd be upset if they changed it. He said no, in a small voice. 'Lions would be a good name" the coach and the manager told the kids. They voted again. This time it went the opposite way, only two kids voting for Legends. They were declared to be the Lions.

It was time for them to play. Luckily the rain eased off for most of the match (which they won by an enormous margin).

I was trying not to let the double vote get out of perspective - it's just a children's soccer team after all. But it does rankle with me. In fact, I'm appalled. I'm appalled on several levels.

One, that 'legends' is seen as somehow too intellectual a name for a sports team.

Two, that children's ideas are not treated seriously - that the children themelves didn't follow up the suggestion to think about names, presumably weren't encouraged to follow up by their parents.

Three, what on earth does it say about respect for democracy when a vote is seen as something which can be overturned a few minutes later because some people don't like the result. (Gee, this reminds me of a few recent historical events.) What on earth does this teach children about democracy and decision-making? And really, why should children bother to think about anything when adults so blatantly manipulate and coerce them?

What was I supposed to say to Olle about this? I tried not to say anything yesterday, beyond asking him if he liked the name Lions (yes, in a small voice). This morning I told him that I thought the way that it happened was unfair, that adults sometimes act unfairly and if he was older - when he is older - he could and should argue with adults when they act so unfairly. That we all have to accept the results of votes - the majority of people voted for John Howard who we don't like or agree with but we accept that decision and hope that next time most people will vote a different way.

Am I making a mountain out of molehill? Or am I right to see this as a poor reflection of Australian culture? (Maybe not just Australian culture.) All the comments on my last soccer post were illuminating (thanks to those who commented, I meant to reply...) and I'm very prepared to take the rough with the smooth. But I am, as I say, feeling sour after this - and not, I should emphasise, because my own child's suggestion wasn't taken up but because of the process by which a name was arrived at.

soccer

This year we're finally making the break into football - soccer, that is. There was no more putting it off - Olle loves nothing better than to kick a ball around and was very keen to play.

It's been a bit of a slog and the matches haven't even started yet.

Two of Olle's best friends have been playing for years and we wanted to be in a team with them, plus a few other kids from his class. But these friends and, as it turns out, just about all the others from his class were born in a different calendar year, which puts them into a different age bracket. So that leaves us in a team with just one boy that we know, who is someone Olle gets on with but hasn't ever socialised with outside school. (Of course, maybe they'll grow closer now.)

We got a call from the coach last Tuesday night saying to turn up on Wednesday afternoon for the first training session. We were 10 minutes late, having never been there before. We couldn't find our coach or team (on a field with literally hundreds of kids). We reported to the woman in charge but ended up going home without setting foot to ball. There were tears.

Late in the week I received an email from someone asking us to come to a different location this week for training. It took me a couple of days to figure out that we seemed to have been removed from the team with the one boy we knew. I emailed the woman in charge and to her credit, she got us back into that team within 24 hours. This time the coach emailed us a map of where to meet.

So yesterday we headed off to buy his boots. The sports store was full of mothers and boys in private school uniforms trying on super-groovy Star-Trek-looking shoes - these are called 'super-moulded' according to the price signs. When I told the assistant that we wanted to buy soccer boots, he at first shook his head - sold out. I said we wanted the most basic, simple pair. He was able to bring us two to try on. One pair was silver and had the laces on the side, rather than up the middle. This, apparently, gives more space on the shoe for kicking the ball. But we ended up buying the other pair, which felt more comfortable and look more conventional (Nike, black and gold.) Olle was as pleased as punch.

So after school today, we drove directly to the training field and arrived on the dot. Looking around, I saw that the team with six of Olle's younger classmates, coached by a dad who we know, was training on one side of us, while a girl's team whch included a girl from his ballet class was on the other side.

Which brings up the issue of ballet.

Wouldn't you know it, soccer training clashes with Olle's ballet class and soccer matches clash with his jazz ballet class. Before we signed up for it, it hadn't really dawned on me how demanding soccer is - of parents. There's training for one to one and a half hours on a weekday. And a match which effectively lasts, with breaks, for one hour on Saturday mornings, which becomes two hours when you factor in travelling time if it's an away game. And the season lasts for six whole months! This was a major reason why I wanted to be in a team with kids from his school - not only so that I'd have parent friends to chat with on the sidelines, but so that we could share around the transporting of children to all these events.

So far so good.

But it looks like we're going to have to drop ballet, at least for the next term. We could rush from soccer training to dance class, arriving 15 minutes late, but that puts a big burden onto Olle. At least we can transfer from a Saturday jazz class to one on another weekday - though maybe we should also drop that for a term so as not to overdo things. It makes me sad to drop dance - it's a lovely discipline and one that he enjoys. (He's convinced that dancing has made him a good soccer player - I'm sure he's right.) I admit that it also goes against my grain to drop a less conventional - for boys - art in favour of a mainstream team sport. But it's Olle's life and I know that he keenly wants to do soccer, partly because it is, in his eyes, a masculine pursuit

A more pressing problem will arise later in the year, when the dance classes begin to prepare for the annual concert - it's important for him to be there then. But I guess we'll cross that bridge when we come to it. I just don't understand why the soccer season has to start so early and go on so late in the year...

Anyway, today's training session went very well for Olle. The coach, who has a son in the team, is a Serb. The assistant coach, who also has a son in the team, is a Turk. That European (and South American) influence in soccer is something I like a lot.

The boys spent almost an hour doing training exercises - the coach seemed very exasperated with some of them, who pushed and shoved and wriggled about, not listening to instructions. Then they played a game. (I'm probably supposed to refer to this as a match.) I could tell that Olle was on the ball and I heard the coach complimenting him several times as they played.

He was very happy.

This evening I receieved two emails from the coach.

The first was addressed to parents of the entire team:

As those of you who were at training today would have seen, the kids were far from their best when it came to their behaviour and listening. It is important that your child  has an understanding that while at training, they need to observe and practice the following:

No talking to others-concentrate on what you need to do.
No pushing,chasing, wrestling or mucking around.
No dangerous kicking of the ball, being responsible for each other.
Listen to the coach and follow instruction.

Let them know that if they do muck around and are disruptive they wont be included in training and may even miss out on game time. Those that want to learn should not have to put up with disruptive behaviour from those who muck around, its not fair on those who want to learn and also wastes our time. I earnestly ask for your co operation.

The second was addressed to me:
Every one has been sent the email regarding behaviour at training today, but i would like to say that Olle was very good. He listened well and did everything that he needed to do. Please let him know that his behaviour was well appreciated.

Also i notice he is a good player, he thinks as he plays which is a good building block.

He then suggested that we consider sending Olle to a training camp during the upcoming school holidays. (Unfortunately not, we'll be away on the relevant dates.)

I'm pleased, of course,  that Olle has done so well in his first session and has been seen to do well. We thought he was skilled at this (entirely self taught) but I couldn't be sure how his skills would compare to other players of the same age.

However, I'm also slightly perturbed that this team is apparently a troublesome one. Until now, all of Olle's extra-curricular activities have been with children we liked and parents we liked - they were as much a pleasure for us as for him. The prospect of six months of watching this coach cry "Listen!" to a group of disruptive boys is not an appealing one.

 

 

words cannot express

I'm trying to ignore the Commonwealth Games. I'm essentially uninterested in them, but beyond that, I'm irked by the attention they garner from the media - the amount and type.

Listening to Vega on the car radio the other day [since someone snapped off my car aerial, it's the only station I can get], I was highly irritated when even the news reader, in news bulletins, repeatedly referred to "our team" and "our weightlifters" etc. This isn't news, it's propaganda.

However, Olle and I were home alone this evening and there was nothing else on TV so we watched the Games for awhile. The Channel 9 coverage switched between many events - swimming, sprints, hammerthrowing, medal ceremonies.

We saw Australian swimmer Leisl Jones break her own recent world record in the 100m breaststroke final. Wrapping up the five minutes of coverage that followed, the announcer exclaimed, "Words cannot express what people right across the country are feeling at this moment".

Oh for goodness sake.

A couple of hours later, having put Olle to bed and puttered around for awhile, co-parent and I were sitting talking with the TV on. A male announcer, probably the same one, came on to summarise the evening thus: "This has been an evening that many people will never forget".

Words cannot express how ridiculous I thought that statement was.

war games

When I looked at the Playstation website the other day, I was struck very forcibly by the narrow range of subjects covered in the games - basically, soldiers and sports. So it wasn't really a surprise to read this article, which argues that in the US, the languages of war and sports, especially gridiron football (which has always been totally unappealing to me, from the brief glimpses I've had of it) are converging. Sports is becoming 'a marketing plug for militarism'.

[And here's a gratuitous picture of my son gathering frangipanis from the ground at a temple north of Hanoi in Vietnam last year.] 

warnie

There's no doubt about it - Shane Warne is absolutely compelling to watch. No matter what kind of an airhead he may be in real life, he's a brilliant cricketer.

There's a special little frisson for us in watching this last Test - co-parent's sister lived in the street next to The Oval for many years. We see her apartment every time there's an aerial shot of the ground. There are other, mostly happy, memories too, located in houses in the surrounding streets, as that was a small part of our neck of the London woods. So it was nice to kick back on a warm spring evening in Sydney and watch the cricket on a sunny September day in London. Co-parent wants England to win - or rather, she wants Australia to lose, as she's wanted them to lose for years. I shared this feeling until Warnie drew me in, in these early matches. Maybe the threat of defeat for the Australians is enough, this time.