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Phoebe is still very much into football and says she wants to be a professional footballer when she grows up. Hitchin has the biggest female football club in the country, but sadly the teams are packed full of players and it's very difficult to break into. A very few places had opened up in a slightly older age group and the coaches of the social group she's a part of had put her forward as a 10 year old who might be good enough to be in the U12 team. She'd done a couple of training sessions and she was really determined to get in, as much as I told her that it would be an amazing achievement if she did.
But she'd good and fearless, terrific in defence after facing up to the boys in her previous team, but also covering lots of ground and capable of some killer passes and shots on goal. I may be biased, but I was full of fatherly pride watching her and much more nervous than she seemed to be.
I didn't really trouble the school teams when I was a kid (though did eventually get into the hockey and cricket squads) and as I'd watched had thought again about the time when I was about 10, when I'd been keen to get into the cricket team, though had little in the way of skills. Mr Morris, the games teacher clearly saw how much I wanted it and let me come to the trials and though I had not put in a solid performance, wanted to reward my keenness.
As he announced the squad he said that I was just on the border, a slightly ambiguous remark, which sadly I took to mean I has failed to get in. "Just inside" the border might have been a better phrasing, but being on the border does suggest that you haven't gained entry. I even asked him after this if there was anything I could do to change the decision, but he was confused as in his mind he'd just told me I was in, so maybe thought I was worried I might be rejected and replied in the negative.
I didn't go to practice and a few days later, as I waited in the car park for my mum (who was a teacher at the school), Mr Morris approached me and chastised me for not turning up after he'd given me the opportunity and told me how disappointed he was in me. I didn't explain the confusion or tell him that I hadn't realised I was in the squad and just apologised. This is fairly typical of me. There's been a few situations in adult life where I could have explained an apparent cock-up or misunderstanding and have, for some reason, just gone along with the misunderstood version. Why? Too embarrassed to make a fuss? Socially awkward? Because I am a fucking idiot?
Anyway Mr Morris never knew that I hadn't shown up because I'd misunderstood his kind, but poorly worded gesture (we both knew that I hadn't done well enough). For some reason I found it less embarrassing to let him think I was a forgetful idiot then to admit I'd misinterpreted him.
So I was watching the football, knowing how much rejection hurts at the age and feeling so impressed with Phoebe for more than holding her own with the older girls and hoping she'd have more luck than me.
She felt she'd done badly in the second session because she'd been nutmegged at one point, but I said it was unlikely that anyone had seen that and that hopefully they had noted the couple of fantastic long range passes that she'd done that set up the forward (who failed to score).
Yesterday I had a text from the coach saying how fantastic Phoebe had been and how he felt sure she was a future star, but that the competition was fierce and that he thought she was lacking in a couple of areas (he clearly hadn't seen the through balls) and that there was no place for her this year.
I was really gutted. I knew how much Phoebe wanted this and deserved it, but also I was going to have to tell her and she her hopes dashed for another year.
This is where parenting is tough. I had to let her know at the right time and in a way that would give her hope. After the second session she'd been sure she wouldn't make it and I'd told her that it would be amazing if she did, but that I really thought she would. She said I had to say that because I was her dad and I assured her that I would still be honest with her, that I really meant it.
And now, she'd been proven right.
I didn't want to wreck the school day so waited until we were home after pick up. I was so nervous about it and Catie and I had planned to take the kids out for a meal to make up for the disappointment. I broke the news gently and was ready for tears, but she took it in her stride. I think she had convinced herself that she wasn't good enough (which wasn't true), but also apparently I'd bet her five pounds that she'd get in, so she was happy to win the bet.
So I was more gutted than she was (at least that she was letting on) and I reiterated the point that the coach had her pegged for a star of the future. Maybe my own justifiable sporting failures made the decision seem all the more unfair. You want to protect them from disappointment and pain and years of regret looking back on a stupid misunderstanding that could have been easily cleared up if you weren't such an idiot. Of course you can't protect them. And surviving knock-backs is an important part of personal growth. She just worked so hard...
Still she seemed happy with a fiver and a Mexican takeaway. So maybe it meant more to me than here after all!
She's not giving up and admirably she doesn't want to go and play for a team in another village, because she wants to play for her own town.
