Too Mucha Lucha

Here is a picture of our two boys all decked out in their soccer gear and looking very serious and full of expert knowledge of all things soccer-related. Don't let the pictures fool you.

Let me first say that we enrolled our kids in soccer to give them something active and fun to do and to encourage them to partake in all the physical and mental benefits of being involved in a sport. We have no desire to mold them into soccer superstars in order to live through our children or to secure their educational funding and then future careers (and subsequently, our own retirement) through soccer. As you know, in the U.S. there just isn't that much glory or money to be had in soccer. Perhaps basketball . . . . yeah right!

Anyway, we just wanted them to have fun, but with Keller, soccer may not be the vehicle to Fun-ville. He threw fits every time he had to get ready for practice, and while he showed a lot of evergy on the field, he was really just "looking busy." He flitted and danced all over as to give the impression of playing soccer without actually touching the ball. Towards the end of the season, the two coaches' original mission of "let's all have fun" seemed to shift to the new focus of "let's help Keller score a goal." I slowly began to realize that at practice, they started telling every child who managed to come in contact with the ball to pass it to Keller in hopes that a goal would result. At the last game they even posted Keller right in front of the goal so that if a loose kick went his way, he could put it right in. He got so close a few times, but it never happened. I gave those coaches an 'A' for effort.

Ian, however, was a scoring fool his first and second year, but when he moved up to the next level, he also adopted the "just look busy" strategy. Not intentionally, of course, but he gets so busy running around (and shreeking, too--no one can top him on sound effects) without actually trying to get the ball. I just don't think they've tapped into the inner spirit of soccer yet.

But what I have noticed is that those two boys spend morning, noon, night and even sleep-time in this position:
So I have suggested to Timothy that perhaps their true path to the Wide World of Sportiness lies in wrestling. We are both very reluctant to seriously explore this option. I heard a story once about a fellow high school student who, in the middle of a wrestling match, had his arm pushed the wrong way so hard by an opponent that something in his shoulder area cracked and the noise of it reverberated through the entire gym. Yes, I know you can get hurt in soccer too (I got hurt playing soccer, in fact) but it's hard to erase that mental image of a shoulder cracking. Timothy, obviously, has never had a particular bend towards wrestling. He's more the kind of guy to enjoy track, hurdles, high jump, softball, hurling himself off of diving boards, and leaping from one precarious rocky perch to another. So he feels out of his element in wrestling.

In spite of that, he has not done much to distract the boys from their fascination with the dark world of imposing one's will over another via brute strength, physical dominance, a lot of grunting and a pile-drive to the face. He bought them a couple of Mucha Lucha DVDs. Yeah, that's not going to soothe their wrestling mania one bit. On the other hand, their enthusiasm might be heavily dampened when they find out that, unlike the cartoon, you can't actually shout out "Tornado of Truth" and turn yourself into a tornado or a bulldozer when you're wrestling (does this remind anyone of the Wonder Twins?). And Ian might be very disappointed to learn that wrestling coaches and officials will most likely frown on his punching noises, judo-chopping sound effects and girl-y shreeking.

But in our house, for the time being, it's much, much too mucha lucha.