Indianapolis -- Game 4, Championship, Part One

All names, dates, and places have positive and negative associations. Indianapolis is a wonderful city and I think immediately of Peyton Manning.

I also think, now, of time (x2) spent there with a simply wonderful group of young ladies and their parents (who aren't too bad either). And, of course, Cookie.

But when I hear "Indianapolis" I can't but think, too, of the USS Indianapolis. The USS Indianapolis was the Navy Ship that delivered the Atomic Bomb to the US Navy Base at Tinian.

The dropping of the Atomic Bomb on Hiroshima (August 6, 1945), of course, effectively ended World War II; this and the second bomb dropped August 9 on Nagasaki.

 On its return the Indianapolis was torpedoed by a Japanese submarine -- July 30, 1945. My 19 year old Dad, Sam, of Dahlonega, Georgia & St. Joe, Michigan, was a medic in the US army stationed then in Italy.

The ship sunk in 12 minutes. Only 300 of a crew of 1,196 made it to life boats. 896 went in to the water. After four days of battling dehydration, horrible weather, and sharks only 300 crewmen came out alive. It is the single greatest loss in US Navy history, matched only by "Pearl Harbor" (
December 7, 1941) -- also a real place that's name has become more than a name. The event, the place, and the name changed countless lives.

During Kate's Dad's leader dog drives for us we passed the memorial USS Indianapolis sign on 465 several times.

For me the event is so haunting because it came to my attention when I was in fourth or fifth grade (U10? U11? In hockey I was a "Squirt" -- don't think that term works anymore) and my parents took me to see Stephen Spielberg's Jaws -- the first spring/summer blockbuster, the movie, one could argue, that made a phenomenon like Hunger Games possible. In that (then) disturbing film an old sailor and shark fisherman, a police chief, and a marine biologist set off to hunt down a man eating Great White Shark (for parents thinking "why is he summarizing Jaws? everyone knows Jaws!" they should check the calendar and think again). Just before the penultimate battle with the "big fish" the three are resting, eating and drinking below deck. Despite their different backgrounds they have developed a certain "esprit de corps". They start to compare battlescars in a fairly gentle mock up of macho oneupsmanship. The ship's captain and the marine biologist have various scars from life at sea (shark bites, scrapes, etc.). The police chief, certainly no wimp, is out of his element and considers for a second showing what is either a gall bladder surgery scar or a scar from an appendix removal but decides against it. In this oceanic macho test he can't compete.

 The scene turns from semi-comic to tragic, however, when the marine biologist notices a scar on the forearm of the ship's captain and asks about "that one." Initially, the ship's captain refuses to talk about it, but then he tells the marine biologist -- who is too tipsy to recognize the change in the captain's tone -- that that was a tattoo removal. "What did it say," the biologist laughs, "Mother?" It is not until the captain says that was from the "INDIANAPOLIS" that the biologist snaps out of the comedic -- as does an audience. The police captain is of our generation or the one immediately preceding it and thus far enough from WII to ask, as did a 5th grader who thought himself a WII historian, "What's the Indianapolis?" The ship's captain tells his tale in a rather haunting fashion. And, for a kid who was fascinated by Dad and Uncles participation in the war I had intimations for the first time the scars a horrific event could leave.http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=u9S41Kplsbs&feature=relmfu

Then, as now, I was powerfully susceptible to novels, poems, films, plays and art in general -- they help me, at least, come to terms with the sometimes incomprehensible.

My strong reaction to the scene certainly was connected to the tension the film generates -- the huge, now goofy looking plastic shark, the parodied musical score everytime he attacks, etc. But, again, that moment in the film touched the real for me. And that scene always has reminded me of how the "real" can coincide so strangely, in such a "surreal" fashion, with fun, with blockbuster movies, with play, with, now, soccer. So: Indianapolis.

Victory in Indianapolis - Game Three!!

We tend to say that storms end or that storms pass. This is not  accurate. Storms and their consequences last.

Fortunately, one event that can follow a storm is a brilliant sunny, windy morning, either in spring and fall.

So it was Sunday morning, as the girls woke to play in the after effects of Saturday night's horrific weather. Going in to the morning's game the girls knew that if they won they would stay to play in the 330 PM Championship game. And parents knew that if the girls won everyone would be getting home close to 10 or 11 PM on a Sunday. Yikes, says the philosophical Buddha, there is never good without bad, or bad without good.

We know we shouldn't, but we take much for granted. For the soccer team, for example, it has gotten easy to take Annabelle's defensive abilities for granted. She is just there, getting to every ball, making a play, and, more recently, waiting patiently as opponents attack only to choose a moment, focus on the ball, and touch it way. This deadly defensive deftness can demoralize a team, he whispered alliteratively. And it it happened twice right away. Equally quiet in her efficiency is Zoe. Early in this game she moved from sideline to sideline, anticipating ball movement, passing with precision, and effortlessly stepping behind (and thus in) for outside defenders when they stepped up.

This game was never really in doubt.

At about the ten minute mark Sawyer gave a great a effort from the left corner. She began by pressuring a defender and stealing the ball before eluding the next defender to create an opportunity in front. Minutes later, in almost a duplicate play, she pressured, bumped off a defender, and nudged the ball to Jazzy -- who knows where that net is -- who jammed it home. A word about Jazzy: what an addition! The Force had its share of skilled and very quick forwards. What they lacked was an offensive threat who can distribute from midfield (without getting bumped off the ball) and who can take a touch in front, turn, and score (without getting bumped off the ball). It is like Red Wings General Manager Kenny Holland went out and found just the right player for the mix.

Following Jazzy's goal the Force applied almost continual pressure in an around the 18. Unfortunately, these mad scrambles only generated the best parental noise of the season as parents -- almost in chorus -- grunted, groaned, and harrumphed. The best term for this kind of communication, perhaps, is "pre-verbal" and it perhaps gives a glimpse of how language originated in our hominid ancestors. That is, collectively a group vocalized a desire for something they wanted but just could not get.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Um8KxsXq4TA

This kind of pressure actually generated some defensive lapses. And it was Grace, she of the perfect offensive touches, who, like Kyra, showed a great expansiveness to her game. From midfield she tracked back constantly, finding the right spot and the right mark to thwart counter-attacks.

But, for the most part, the ball was in the offensive end. And Sawyer -- having reluctantly agreed to roll in the mud the afternoon before -- did the necessary dirty work in the corner. She passed to Jazzy who gave a great pass to Stasia who drilled in her second goal of the tourney. 2-0. Ellie, stepping in to help out the squad in this U13 division, worked hard (more on Ellie's intensity to come) and rewarded Sawyer for her own hard work with a pass that Sawyer gently tapped into an open left corner.

3-0 and off to the Championship Game!. The parents had to struggle with a decision -- go have lunch and pack or head off for more Soccer opportunities at Butler -- but one way or another we would be back on the pitch at 330! (or a bit earlier, apparently some not fully committed to soccer in America were starting games early, perhaps to get back home)

Victory in Indianapolis -- Game Two!!!

The girls celebrated their first game victory with lunch at the Cheesecake Factory or PFChang's -- one has to love the American shopping Mall which provides a comforting and familiar presence from sea to shining sea!

Cookie, I think, issued a no swimming ban, but the girls Indy burned as much energy playing elevator tag as they would have in the pool. Sophie's brother and I watched a strange movie about Matt Damon as a recently widowed father buying a zoo -- the premise only made sense to me because, apparently, the story is true and the zookeeper that comes with the zoo is Scarlet Johansson of lasting "Lost in Translation" fame. Spoiler alert: Matt and Scarlett don't kiss until the final scene.

 I was shamed by indolence when I met Primary Spotter at the elevator. Where I was blurry and somnolent he was refreshed and energized having skipped giant lemonades and diet cokes at the mall and, instead, done work, jogged, and showered!

At 5PM, though, dutifully responding to our texts from All World Alice, we all met in the Lobby of the Indy Sheraton. And we lined up to follow Kate's Dad -- who probably hasn't driven 55 MPH so much in the last ten years as he did this weekend -- to head out to another field.

What greeted us was a deluge. All the soccer moms' morning ablutions (ritual application of cleansing liquids or creams) were made redundant by a continual downpour. Cookie wisely has the girls perform their own ablutions outside by making them roll around in the mud before the game to prepare for the soaking.

The rain prevented this blogger from taking notes (no plastic binder!). I have only vague memories, memories that included blowdrying two pairs of soaking wet soccer cleats the following AM.

But one memory stands out clearly: Kate's sure hands and pure toughness. As the girls have been playing well recently they haven't had to rely on Kate's ball stopping. This game, however, reminded everyone of what kind of player she is. The opponent, Citadel, was much more athletic than GLSRA had been in Game One. And they were physical. There was one yellow card -- firmly delivered -- and there should have been two or three. In the downpour the Force's ball control game was relatively ineffective. Here the girls' admirable responsiveness to coaching almost turned to a disadvantage. There is no Barcelona offswitch. So while the Force played well Citadel's dump and chase game trumped the Force's skill in terms of shots on goal. Kate fielded wet knuckelball after wet knuckleball. Things held at 0-0 when the official awarded a questionable free kick at the top of the 18. Kate came up big.Citadel's yellow card recipient created pressure late -- and Kate sacrificed herself, picking up the ball and taking the hit to the knees as the official blew the whistle to end the game. One is tempted, in such situations, to call for a bit of "old time hockey." When your exposed goalie takes a hit, defenders respond -- hard. Similarly, as an old offensive lineman, when your QB takes a hit -- particularly by your man -- respond. But the way are team responded was more effective than my old time instincts. They bonded together, ate pizza, and got ready for the next day.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rmCpOKtN8ME

When you and the ones you have to protect take a hit this is really all you can or should do. Get together, lift everyone up, and get ready for the next day.

Victory in Indianapolis -- Game One!!!

The Girls U12 team went undefeated (7-0, 0-0, 2-0, 3-2) in four straight games this weekend to win the
Championship at the 2012 "Indy Burn Kapsalis Cup"! Congratulations girls!!

Indy Burn Kapsalis Cup 2012
Indy Burn Kapsalis Cup April 13-15, 2012, Indianapolis, IN, is hosted by Pike Soccer Club / Indy Burn, will be a great pre-season or early season tournament. Indy Burn Kapsalis Cup offers Academy - Round Robin four 6v6 games for U8-U9-U10 teams, and three different skill levels of play for each age/sex U11-U19.

Girls U13 SilverBracket A Team 1 Team 2 Team 3 Team 4 Points Finish 001) ZIONSVILLE YOUTH SOCCER 99 GIRLS WHITE 0-3 0-2 2-4 0 4 002) FORCE FC 00 PURPLE 3-0 7-0 0-0 7 1 003) GLRSA UNITED 99 WHITE 2-0 0-7 1-6 3 3 004) FWUSA CITADEL FC 99G WHITE 4-2 0-0 6-1 7 2 Bracket B Team 1 Team 2 Team 3 Team 4 Points Finish 001) TIPPECANOE BLUE 99 G 4-0 5-0 1-1 7 2 002) FWSC STRIKERS 2000 0-4 2-2 0-4 1 3 003) ST FRANCIS THE PHOENIX 0-5 2-2 0-5 1 4 004) WESTSIDE UNITED FC WSU 99 GREEN 1-1 4-0 5-0 7 1 Finals Final FORCE FC 00 PURPLE (MI) 3 WESTSIDE UNITED FC WSU 99 2

The win was the result of great team chemistry (including the parents, let by All World manager Alice), patient and remarkably determined coaching to develop a ball control system, and, of course, some incredible individual efforts.

It was windy and overcast for Game 1 Saturday morning. When Grace's mom pulled out a rainproof plastic folder containing her itinerary, however, we knew we were ready. That the folder matched her rain boots pointed to soccer greatness!

The game began as many Force games now do -- with Rhea elegantly distributing the ball around the fild to establish control. The ball stayed in the opponents' end for the first ten minutes. Sophie snagged a clearing past at midfield and gave the ball to Kyra who -- at 70 pounds (literally) soaking wet -- absorbed some punishment to return the ball to its starting place: Rhea. The passer turned striker and delivered a terrific shot off the top of the outstretched hands of the goaltender. One other note: the weekend showed many glimpses of changes, growth, improvement. One distinct change was Kyra morphing from a speedy, always hustling threat around the net to a full fledged offensive weapon. Given that the girls were playing without MSH (foot injury) and Lauren the way different girls stepped up was critical.

A few minutes later ("Can we think about the golden five minutes girls??") Sawyer sent one across the 18 to a wide open Stasia who leaned right and delivered a great strike back across her body and high for a 2-0 lead. This was an omen of things to come as Sawyer -- normally cited for her striking -- has turned beautiful distributor and playmaker, too.

Cookie has worked on corner kicks recently and boy did that work pay off. Emmi, setting up much more closely than interior defenders had been, was in the right spot and delivered a perfectly placed ball into the left side of the goal. 3-0.

Kate didn't have much to do in game 1 (good thing -- she was to need her energy!), but when the other team got a run she made great decisions. And speaking of improvements post evaluations -- the Force's brilliant, tough ball stopper now punts and goalkicks to midfield and beyond. Look out. Similarly, the Force didn't need much defense -- as they had the ball for 50 minutes -- but when they did Jill popped up.

Super sub Sydney from the White team joined the girls and, again, off a corner, gracefully placed one up top to go to 4-0.

Just before half Sawyer took a great first touch and sent one to Jazzy -- at home in front of the net -- who spun and delivered a left footed ball to go 5-0. (Or was it Jazzy to Sawyer? Sorry girls -- my notes were wet!!! No plastic folder here!!)

With the comfortable lead the Force went full on Barcelona in the second half. Back pass to back pass, side pass to side pass, as the girls ignored the huffing and puffing of parents (including your's truly) to responsibly following Cookie's method. As a result, much of this half looked like a keep away game for the Force or a passing warm up.

Hard to keep Jazzy off the net though. Annabelle's TV worthy corner (another corner!! score) landed near Jazzy who pivoted hard for what (I think) was goal number 6 and her 2nd.

The last goal went, appropriately, to the weekend's offensive star: Sawyer.

Zoe, from her midfield spot, stopped a ball, cut right, looked up, saw a streaking Sawyer on her left, looked back down to cut past a defender, and, without needing to look up again, delivered a perfectly paced ball to where she knew Sawyer would end up -- for a break away. 7-0. Vintage Zoe. Having watched her since she was 5 she has the highest Sports IQ of any kid I have ever seen. In that she is like a Division Quarterback in the SE conference. She has now learned the midfield position quite well and makes what are 15 to 16 decisions per minute from that spot. 13 or 14 of those are right on.

Update from Alice!!!

Hello All,

Please see the note below about the weather forecast for this weekend, it looks a little wet, possibly severe so please pack appropriately. Be sure to bring both uniforms, extra socks, warm-ups/rain gear for the girls, extra shoes, shin guards etc.

For you and your families, rain boots, umbrellas, rain gear, chairs, blankets, and layers because it could be warm.

For dinner Friday we will meet in the lobby at 6:45 to walk over unless it is raining.

Breakfast Saturday morning will be in the lobby at 8:00 am.

Safe travels to everyone.

GO FORCE!!!!!!!!!

Indianapolis, IN (46240) Weather

Updated: Apr 12, 2012, 2:05pm EDT

Tonight Apr 12

Fri 13

Sat 14

Sun 15

Mon 16

Partly Cloudy	Partly Cloudy	Scattered T-Storms	Scattered T-Storms Potential for severe thunderstorms	Scattered T-Storms
60°FHigh	66°High	74°High	76°High	76°High
39°Low	52°Low	61°Low	62°Low	47°Low
Chance of Precip: 10%	Chance of Rain: 20%	Chance of Rain: 50%	Chance of Rain: 40%	Chance of Rain: 50%
Wind: NE at 5 mph	SE at 14 mph	SSW at 16 mph	SW at 18 mph	SSW at 18 mph
Humidity: 52%	46%	62%	66%	71%
UV Index: 7 - High	6 - High	4 - Moderate	4 - Moderate	5 - Moderate
Sunrise: 7:11 am	7:09 am	7:08 am	7:06 am	7:05 am
Sunset: 8:20 pm	8:21 pm	8:22 pm	8:23 pm	8:24 pm
Moonrise: 2:07 am	2:52 am	3:31 am	4:03 am	4:33 am
Moonset: 12:06 pm	1:11 pm	2:15 pm	3:18 pm	4:19 pm
Moonphase: Waning Gibbous	Last Quarter	Waning Crescent	Waning Crescent	Waning Crescent

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10,000 Hours, Gladwell, and The Force

As my primary spotter (Annabelle's Dad) can attest, I am a big fan of Malcolm Gladwell.

Gladwell is best known for his essays and short books on what has come to be known as "pop economics" or "pop sociology." These are simply some of the most interesting airplane (2 to 4 hour flight) reads you can get your hands on. My favorite is *Blink.* In *Blink* Gladwell identifies "blinkers" -- that is, people who tend to make up their minds immediately, or come to knowledge on the spot. Blinkers stand in stark contrast to more analytical thinkers who do a lot of research and take a lot of time making up their minds about something.

Tiger Wife is definitely not a blinker. And neither, I am told, both by him and aching Fitness Forest reviewer, that primary spotter is not a blinker. For a blinker I guess I get on well with non-blinkers.

Gladwell's argument can be read as a celebration of "blinkers." I certainly read it that way to champion my own way of being -- mainly in lively discussions with Tiger Wife. But Gladwell is always subtle, and he has a way of undermining those, like me, who would take him out of context. One of the things Gladwell points out is that really good "blinkers" don't have some kind of special insight or instinct (darn -- I always wanted to be a superhero with Spidey sense!) but have gotten to be blinkers after accumulating huge amounts of knowledge or expertise in a given field. His opening anecdote in that book, for instance, involves an art historian who immediately tells the Getty Museum that they have overpaid wildly for an ancient statue. The statue is a fraud says the historian -- in an instant. But he can't tell the Getty people why. "I just know," he says.

That can work in poetry readings and discussions of film but not when big chunks of money are at stake. So the Getty folks ignore him. But it turns out the blinker IS right. But he is right because of years of accumulated knowledge. Good blinkers are good because they spent years as serious analytical thinkers. I am not the blinker I think I am. Tiger Wife and Primary Spotter are probably closer to authentic "blinkers" when they, on occasion, make a quick judgment.

Gladwell's other incredibly popular book, The Outliers, also can be read against its own grain. In Outliers Gladwell tries to identify how truly exceptional people became exceptional. Here he made the 10,000 hours theory wildly popular -- so popular in fact that even the Force Newsletter has picked it up!!! (Rule Britannia -- Gladwell is a child of the empire, too! Does one sense the more regular presence of Andy Wagstaff?). The 10,000 theory is that to be truly exceptional at something -- let's say the violin or soccer -- one must spend 10,000 doing it. In one anecdote Gladwell describes how Bill Gates spent at least that much time in a computer lab in the 1970s...presto-- Genius.

Consequently, it is easy and almost logical to take from this book the idea that if you want to be even good  at something you should spend 10,000 doing it!!!!

But Gladwell's real point is show how one becomes an OUTLIER or EXCEPTION -- not merely  good. In fact, one of his critical points is that people come by their 10,000 hours almost by accident. Gates, for example, was one of the few kids to live near the relatively small number of computer labs in existence in the early 1970s. And he had regular access! (I forgot why -- buy the book --help the publishing industry).

That is, Gladwell specifically suggests you can't deliberately create a path to OUTLIER or exceptional status. Pounding out 10,000 hours at something is no guarantee. Gladwell is much more interested in showing, in fact, the hapzard path to exceptional status, a path that -- contra an English Protestant Work Ethic (Tiger Wife's Dad) -- can't be traced simply through individual effort.

Gladwell's opening story is of note, not just because it tells us something about his theory, but because it tells us something about youth sports.

I cite from that wonderful creation -- the equivalent of the USS Enterprise's voice activated computer: Wikipedia

 "a disproportionate number of elite Canadian hockey players are born in the first few months of the calendar year. The answer, he points out, is that since youth hockey leagues determine eligibility by calendar year, children born on January 1 play in the same league as those born on December 31 in the same year. Because children born earlier in the year are bigger and more mature than their younger competitors, and they are often identified as better athletes, this leads to to extra coaching and a higher likelihood of being selected for elite hockey leagues. This phenomenon in which "the rich get richer and the poor get poorer" is dubbed "accumulative advantage" by Gladwell, while sociologist Robert K. Merton calls it "the Matthew Effect", named after a biblical verse in the Gospel of Matthew: "For unto everyone that hath shall be given, and he shall have abundance. But from him that hath not shall be taken away even that which he hath."^[7] Outliers asserts that success depends on the idiosyncrasies of the selection process used to identify talent just as much as it does on the athletes' natural abilities."

Translation: one should be cautious in trying to artificially create 10,000 hours as a path to success. It is just as necessary to be born at the right time.

But what do I know? The only thing I ever put in 10,000 hours on was watching Star Trek and memorizing NHL stats from 1925 to 1980.

A cultural history of soccer?

A recent cultural history of soccer in America certainly needs to be written.

I am in my mid (well, now late forties) and grew up on the east side. There was no soccer in my school district and no (visible) soccer program. I recall playing once in gym class. As a kid who liked to jump on the ground and bump other kids around  I played goalie. It was fun.

Sports for kids -- with the exception of hockey -- were run through the school district. Every athletic kid played seasonal sports: football in the fall, basketball in the winter, baseball or track in the spring and summer. Eccentric kids (mostly Italian, some Polish) wrestled in the winter. The only potential sports "conflict" was hockey because its season overlapped all the "major" sports

 I remember stuffing my filthy football gear in my locker and dashing out the door, two or three times a week, to meet my mom waiting in the parking lot to take me to hockey practice.

I also remember enduring a few taunts from "tough" 8th and 9th grade boys saying I was running out because I was too scared to shower with them. This is so odd in so many ways I won't dwell on it here (but pre-teen and teen locker room etiquette certainly deserves a post of its own!).

In grade 8, football, basketball and hockey practice got jammed together somehow for a week. I developed a nasty case of Osgood Slaughter's disease in my right knee and was out for at least a month, may be longer. The crew cut pediatrician (think of the guys in Apollo 13 at Houston control) told my Mom I shouldn't play so many sports and, obedient by nature, she began to cut them all! I cried liked a tortured prisoner.

But no one sport dominated. Indeed, I was encouraged to play multiple sports. My high school basketball coach insisted I play tennis to help my footwork (don't ask...I am a better golfer).

Somewhere between being a college student and a Dad, however, everything changed. Schools can't afford sports' programs anymore. High school basketball barely counts. Your AAU (travel) performance is what matters.

And, of course, soccer dominates everything.

How, and when, did this happen? And why?

Yesterday, along with a few other Soccer Moms, I attended my daughter's school's track team parents' meeting. The coach, a teacher in the district, announced there were something like 80 kids out for track.

Wow! This is wonderful, I think. But before long the conversation turned to -- you guessed it -- soccer. Specifically, the conversation turned to soccer conflicts.

The coach was impressive here. She struck me as an experienced coach, teacher, and mom herself. That is, she made no effort whatsoever to try to compete with soccer conflicts. Her take, briefly, was this: I know many of your kids will play both (or more). But I need you here four days a week. The fifth day, she said, was open for "religious" schooling. The quiet, ironic implication was that soccer practice fell into that category. I laughed. She told a cautionary story about a kid overtraining and hurting herself. We all heard; but none of us really listened. The coach told this story out of responsibility -- but she knew no one would listen.

Having just finished up a basketball season with a group of "soccer" girls I was sympathetic. My bball team has girls from the Force (obviously), Hawks, Vardar, and B United.

We all agree -- as we did yesterday even at a FULL track meeting -- that soccer comes first. It is like a giant round planet with seems that everything else responds to as if it exerts some extraordinary gravitational pull.

My question, again: when and how did this gigantic planet enter my solar system without me noticing?http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9lDCYjb8RHk