I coach soccer. I use the term “coach” loosely here. It’s what you get when less than a handful of parents volunteer. I’m not the head coach and, at least, I’m willing to watch, research and study other teams.
Last practice, the head coach was on vacation so I got to be in charge. Although there were groans abound, I made them practice ball handling. It’s basic but it’s essential.
It didn’t take me long to realize that I also need to practice ball handling skills. How can I teach them fancy moves if I can’t do it myself? So, today, a slow and lazy Saturday, after watching two movies and eating a hot fudge Sundae for dinner, I decided I needed to work off my French toast breakfast by practicing my soccer foot work.
I won’t bore you with the details of the drills I did (or planned on doing) because it was shortly apparent that what I most need to practice is my outside foot dribbling. See, on my second pass through the backyard, the toes of my right foot caught downward in the grass so that all my weight (DQ ice cream, maple syrup and all) went right into the tendons in the front of my right ankle.
It crossed my mind that I should fallen on the ground as though my foot had just broken clean off my leg. But, there wasn’t a referee watching (or anyone else either), so I settled for a few curse words.
Clearly, I need to practice my footwork but right now, I need ice. And maybe some Motrin..