Anybody who knows me personally will find this next nugget of info profoundly hysterical:

I'm coaching Danny's soccer team this fall.

(Go ahead, laugh. I'll wait.)

I didn't really mean to get myself into this. It's not like I don't have enough to do, what with the job and the three boys and the messy apartment and the gad school and the PTA newsletter and the toddler who gets into every fucking thing and all. But when I ran into the Evanston Civic Center to drop off the boys' registration forms for soccer last spring, they literally had volunteers running interference in the hallway, begging for parents to sign up. I let myself get talked into being an assistant coach, figuring I'd do little more than help babysit 10 five-year-old kids in neon jerseys and plastic cleats. They promised I didn't need to know anything about soccer, or to be in any kind of shape or anything.

Then, in the middle of the summer, I got an email from the U6 (Under-Six) league commissioner, politely asking me (in a way that was really telling me) if I'd be promoted to head coach. I wrote back that I hadn't played soccer since 7th grade, and he replied that I then had more experience than most of the coaches. Oh. So I took my Safe Haven (ie. Ways To Reduce Liability Insurance Costs for AYSO) course online and passed, and then last Monday got to go to the first (and really only) coaches' meeting.

At which I was maybe one of 10 female coaches. There are nearly 2,000 kids playing soccer in the Evanston AYSO this year, from ages 5 to 19, so you gotta figure that's a lot of teams, each with a head and an assistant coach. So while I was very self-conscious about being (a) female and (b) not particularly sporty in any way, I kind of felt proud for representing the sisterhood there. Especially when the only vocal female coach sounded like such a raving, foaming, bitter ol' bitch. (oops. There goes my sisterhood patch.)

I met my assistant coach, who is a guy. I was nervous about that, too. Would he get all intimidated male on me and basically take over? Would he be a marathon runner, take one look at my jellified bod, and just walk back to the commissioner for reassignment? Nope. G-d smiled on me and gave me an AC who seems like a decent guy. He and his wife have three girls the exact same ages as our boys. He works at the Board of Trade or something, and knows zip about soccer, other than watching his 7-year-old daughter play AYSO for a couple of years.

This past Sunday, we had mandatory coach training -- three hours of sitting in the blistering sun being lectured at by sporty guys slightly past their primes, followed by a test. Seriously, a test. People were cracking up. And there was even a trick question!! But I passed my test, and picked up uniforms (we got to pick them -- turquoise & navy vertical stripe jerseys with navy shorts and turquoise socks -- very cool). I now own not one, but two coaches' whistles. I have a green net bag that I assume has soccer balls and those collapsable cone things in them in the back of my (yep) minivan. I have the obligatory AYSO magnet on the trunk, next to the Evanston Baseball magnet.

The one thing I'll say is that I like the basic mission of the AYSO, which is a very fair set of statements along the lines of everybody plays every game, anybody can sign up even if they can't pay, and coaches and parents set positive examples so all the kids can have fun. And it was really funny listening to parts of the training. The former league commissioner was there and read from the different training books about what the kids are like at each level, and we were all cracking up because it was like someone had been spying on each of our families and writing down our kids' habits. Five-year-olds are impulsive, silly, and get tired easily? Check. Seven-year-olds tattle, act like pack animals, and want to show off to their friends? Yep.

At one point, this guy said how at a certain point, you can definitely see how coaching to boys and girls is different. He said that when you're explaining something to a group of boys, they can seem like they're really listening to you. Then they get on the field, and it's obvious they never heard a thing. With girls, they're all chatting with each other and stuff when you're teaching, but they get on the field and somehow had picked it all up by osmosis. It just goes to show you, he said, that females are totally wired to multitask, but it's quite possible the guys will never get it.

At U6, where I'm coaching, the boys and girls are together, but they practice right before they play, and the games are 3-on-3. So they won't have too much time to get into trouble (G-d willing and the creek don't rise). I sent out my manifesto to the parents last week, and one of my big rules is that a parent or guardian needs to be on hand for each player at EVERY session. So at the very least, if someone isn't working with us, I can turn to the adult responsible for them and suggest a little snack and a time-out.

I think. Some of the parents can be really nutty. Last year was Jake's first year playing soccer, and there were some really good kids on his team. One kid had a dad who came in soccer outfits (really, outfits) and cleats, and spent the whole time on the sidelines kneeing a ball around (and interfering with play not just a few times). Another kid, who was extremely athletic, had his extremely vocal South African mom at every game, screaming at him to "run!!! TAKE IT!! It's YOURS! KICK IT!! Come ON!!!!!" This was not done in an encouraging, parental-cheerleader kind of way, but more in a Bobby Knight, throwing-the-chairs kind of way. I had heard stories about parents like this, but it blew my mind. After the second game where the mom was clearly out of control, I turned to another mom with whom I'd become friendly and whispered "you think for every goal he misses, she locks him in the closet for another hour?"

I know at one point, Jake's coach had to go talk to her, and she calmed down for a few games, but ramped it back up again for spring soccer. The rest of us tried to compensate by being cheery, positive, and even encouraging to the other team, rewarding good plays and brave moves with applause no matter who made them.

All I can think is, I hope to heaven that kid doesn't have a little brother or sister on Danny's team. I don't want to have to be the person to go over and shut her up.

She might lock me in the closet, too.