When I am standing on a soccer field watching my children play, the last thing I ever want to hear is your grating voice.
I understand that you taught Pele and you were Ronaldinho’s personal mentor. I comprehend that your skills were at some point in time, “phenomenal” (and without a doubt still are), without you having to explain it to anyone and everyone within earshot. I do not doubt that your 5 foot 5 stature weighing in at 300lbs does indeed do little to mask the professional soccer prowess that is but barely contained within your 6-twinkie-at-a-time eating frame.
What I would like you to understand with all due respect and politeness is that I don’t give a crap. I am only there because my children are there. I’m not standing there because I like to stand in open fields during a downpour of rain. I’m not standing there because I like to suffer heatstroke and sunburn in bright sunshine all day long. And the last time I checked, I’m not there to be regaled ad nauseum by tales of your derring-do on the soccer field both real or imagined, past, present or future.
I am there because it is my duty as a father to be there for my children and take part in their activities. As well I take joy in their accomplishments and their joy makes me that much more joyous. Alas not everything on the field can be joyous all the time and again that’s where I come in to commiserate with their pitfalls and sorrows. You see this is something that I both HAVE to and WANT to do. Interacting with you on the other hand, there, Al Bundy… not so much.
I would take it as a personal favor to me and mine if you would stop your retarded comments about the skills or lack thereof, of any and all 8 year old players on the field, whether they be on your own child’s team or the opposing team.
It’s a game, they’re children, they’re here to learn and they’re here to play. It’s hard to do that with you screaming from the sidelines with your armchair coaching. If you would but stop and take a quick look around you’d probably recognize two people, one on either side- they’d be the respective team’s coaches. It’s not the World Cup. Do you see grown men running around faking injuries and dropping from imaginary invisible pianos falling on their heads? Relax yourself already. When it comes to children playing organized sports, really, if you’re THAT keen on winning, you should just go and buy a penis enlargement pump, then seek more private climes. Whatever it is, DO SOMETHING OTHER THAN MAKE ME HEAR YOUR VOICE INCESSANT OR SO HELP ME AT SOME POINT I’LL CHOKE YOU OUT WITH ONE OF YOUR OWN…I mean.. think of the children, yeah.
