My son decided to register for pee wee football this year. It’s the first year he could play and he showed interest so we registered him. With all due respect, he’s not the most athletic kid in the world, but he’s not a total mess of uncoordination. (is that a word?)

Practice started this past Monday. Practice is 5 nights a week for two hours until school starts and then three nights a week for an hour and a half until the end of the season. Games are on either Saturday or Sunday starting in three weeks. It’s a bit of a commitment.

So we show up on day one and find our way around to where we need to be. The age groups are broken down by grade with each division being one grade level except for the youngest which is first and second graders put together. So many kids play football around here that each age group has three teams – White, Orange and Black. Once you’re drafted to a team you will play on that team all the way through the program until you outgrow the program after 6th grade. So this means that coming in to things, the second graders already are part of a team and the first graders need drafted.

What they do the first week is break the new kids into three groups and have them practice with the teams. They rotate each day so they get a chance to practice with each team one day then on the fourth day (Thursday) they do a draft and by Friday you know which team you will be spending your pee wee football career with.

Anyway, we show up on day one and get through all the initial stuff. The group my son was put into got to practice with the White team on the first day. It was a disaster. Everything that it shouldn’t be. In addition to the fact that this was new to my son and the fact that he’s not exactly talented at football, the White team took this much more seriously than I expected going into this whole thing. They really pushed and expected a lot from their kids and if you couldn’t do it, rather than help you, you kind of got pushed to the side. The coaches had an attitude and weren’t very likable. My son left the day saying he thought it was ok, but my wife and I were more than discouraged after two hours of watching my son trip over himself and essentially get ignored for the most part. To make it worse, the White team parents were already yelling and srcreaming and cheering on their kids – on the first day of practice. It was like every bad stereotype of childhood sprts happening at once.

We show up on day two with great hesitation. We were sure if we needed to rotate to the Black team or the Orange. (things were understandably chaotic the first few days) So I took my son and headed over towards the Orange team coaches and asked where he should be today. We struck up a conversation and something just clicked. These guys were personable, talked to my son like a human being who wanted to learn and generally gave off a good vibe.

Soon enough day 2 practice began with the Ornage team. It was the exact opposite of the White team experience. The coashes took there time with the kids showing them one-on-one the things they didn’t know or weren’t able to do. The stressed fun and learning over winning. They were nice guys who you could tell genuinely loved the game and the kids. After practice my son came running over sayng, “That was fun! I really like those guys.” We decided to really try to make an impact and after i had talked for a bit with the one coach before practice (by sheer luck), we made a point to approach them again afterwards and let them know how much fun my son had. (doesn’t hurt to put in face time and kiss a little ass to get what you want)

There was hope.

On Wednesday we rotated to the Black team. They were kind of the middle of the road. The coashes were decent guys who expected the kids to try hard and do well, but also showed them what to do if they couldn’t. The only catch here were some of the kids on the Black team didn’t take so kindly to the newer kids who were struggling a little (and that group included my son) – still it wasn’t that bad. Also the parent of this group were incredibly annoying. The real gossipy, team-mom types that you just want to slap with your dick. Still, the experience was livable and again my son claimed to have enjoyed himself.

So after seeing all three teams we were obviously hoping to be drafted by the Orange team. It was clearly the best envronment for a kid like mine who had everything to learn and it was more in line with what we think this should be for him at this point – learning and fun.

On Thursday we show up and find out that the draft won’t happen until later in the evening and the kids are instructed to practice with the same team they practiced with on Wednesday. We sat through another Black team practice and got the same impression as the day before. Nice guys. Work hard. Help out. Play to Win. Kind of a mix of White & Orange’s approach.

By the end of Practice on Thursday we still hadn’t gotten word and weren’t finished working it out yet and we’d find out when we showed up the next day. One more night of crossing fingers.

We show up Friday, anxious and apprehensive. I swear my wife was ready to pull my son from playing if he got the White team. There was still general confusion about the place every day until things got rolling and today was even crazier with parents and kids trying to figure out where to go, what team they were on and all of that. We hung back and walked around the perimeter of the field. We got near the Black teams practice area and one of those mothers came running towards up screeching, “Did you find out what team you’re on yet!?” We told her we hadn’t and as luck would have it, she had the Black team list in her hands.

Our son wasn’t on it.

It was all or nothing at this point.

I decided to bite the bullet and just go ask the White team coaches. I found one of the particularly unlikeable ones and was informed that the head coach was off getting his list and that they’d probably do something real quick where they gathered the kids and called off names to get everyone in the right place.

We backed off still nervous and after a few minutes it was clear that the gathering and name calling weren’t going to happen so I took my son and made the long march across the field to where the Orange coaches were gathering their team. I walked up and butted my way into their conversation and asked, “Do you guys have your team list yet? We’re still trying to figure out which team we’re on and not everyone has their lists yet.”

One coach said, “Yeah, right here.” and went to hand me the list and just as I grabbed it the coach I had talked to on Tuesday looked up from his papers and said, “Yeah, he’s on our team.” with a smile.

It took everything I had not to cheer like a little girl. Not only did we luck out and get picked to the Orange team, but the coach remembered us enough that he didn’t even need to check the list. Nice!

Friday’s practice went well and I can already see improvement in my son over the five days he practiced this week. It’s pretty cool to see him out there taking handoffs and doing push-ups in an awkward little 6-year-old style.

We go this afternoon to pick up his equipment and starting this week, the kids have to wear their pads (including tiny little cups – tee hee) to practice. I’m looking forward to seeing where this goes.

On a side note, one of the cute little things they do is let each kid pick a nickname that gets printed on the team shirts and used in announcing the players – like, Jimmy “The Rocket” Smith or Billy “Mad Dog” Jones. Just a little element of fun that lets the kids add a some individuality.

My son rejected my initial suggestions of “Balls” and “Meat” (too young to know Porky’s, I guess) and while he has a week to come up with something, I’m hoping to influence the decision. He’s going to go with something cliched and generic like “Bulldog” or “Pitbull” (two ideas he’s been throwing around) and I think he needs something cooler, flashier and cockier.

I’ve got a week to convince him.