Monday, March 18, 2013
J-Swizz Eats a Cheeto Off the Dirt
It's not easy being a soccer coach to a bunch of hooligan first graders. I've got one kid who rolls on the grass talking to caterpillars and another who gets so upset when the other team scores he beats himself in the head with a cleat. Then of course, I've got J-Swizz.
J-Swizz is the kid the P.E. coach puts on your team and winces. Put mildly, he’s a hot mess disaster. A whirling dervish of combustible energy. Spinning, kicking, punching, spitting, and insulting everything around him. J-Swizz likes to sneak up behind me during drills and punch me in the nuts. He picks his nose and wipes it on teammates. He hangs from the goalpost and is pinned in the net when it falls. He purposefully scores goals for the other team then runs wildly in circles screaming like Maradona. He's prone to fits of uncontrollable dance moves like riding a pretend horse and shouting "Opa Gangnam Style" while the other team races past him to score. And once, while laying down on the pitch in an apparent mud bath, the ball actually rolled over the top of his chest. He didn't even notice.
J-Swizz is Taiwanese which means despite it being a balmy 82F, his mother follows the Lunar Calendar and dresses him in three sweatshirts and long sleeved underwear until the first official day of spring in mid April. The kid sweats like a whore in church. He’s constantly running off for water breaks without telling anyone. Once he never came back from the fountain, and I found him later under the monkey bars picking his nose.
“J-Swizz, where were you buddy?”
He jumped to his feet and said, “Baby! Baby! Baby! Ahhh!” Then punched me hard in the nuts.
The final straw was today, last week some kid dropped a bag of Cheetos in the mud and it had rained and they were covered in black dirt and ants. During the middle of the game, I looked over and J-Swizz was sitting cross legged on the ground picking them up and licking them with his tongue.
It was like… nirvana. Two more games left. Yes, I will miss it.