What's in a Name?

School started last week and already the extracurricular activities have kicked in. It seems crazy to me, seeing as how my daughter’s school still hasn’t passed out textbooks since there aren’t enough to go around (thank you Mark Sanford! We all know South Carolina’s education system doesn’t need any funding.). While the school system seems a bit lax, the opposite is true for the YMCA soccer league. We joined there because they billed themselves as more recreational and less competitive than the other soccer leagues in town, one of which involves a three day a week practice schedule and the occasional pre-season scrimmage in subfreezing temperatures, and the of which involves Jesus. For some reason, however, this season’s coaches have forgotten they are Y volunteers and not paid professionals.

My daughter E’s coach takes his responsibilities very seriously. He starts each practice for his 8-9 year old all girls’ team by making them run laps around the field. I would like to see him do that in the late August heat. After that, they get down to the nitty gritty of soccer fundamentals for about 5 seconds so that they can spend the majority of their time scrimmaging. (I don’t really know what "scrimmaging" means, but I used to think it was the lost art of carving intricate seafaring scenes on whale bones.) For their first practice, the coach split the girls into two sides, those who had played together last year versus those who were new members of the team, some of whom had never played soccer before. He then announced to the new girls’ side that the other side never lost a game all season. Way to instill good sportsmanship and teamwork!

E seems happy, though, because while she might not have played on the winningest team in Y history, she has at least played. Plus, she rocks out the goal kicks.

Anywho, yesterday E and I brainstormed names for her team. The coach asked the girls to think up a name, even though they don’t have jerseys yet and therefore are unable to use a color as the basis for the name. Typically, the names are all the same season after season, names which invoke the mayhem and destruction this group of ten little girls will unleash upon the opposing group of ten little girls. The Hurricanes, the Yellow Jackets, White Lightning, Blue Heat. Oooh, intimidating.

E took the team naming pretty seriously. She had pen and paper and plans to draw pictures to get her creative juices flowing. She asked me to help, which was her mistake. I don’t like the traditional names for teams. I think kids can be more original in their team naming. After all, their individual names are pretty original, with all the Peytons and Sloans and McKenzies and Madisons running down the field. It sounds like a law firm, not a soccer team roster.

I was a big help. I came up with great names. Here’s how it went down:

Me: How about the Killer Robots?
E: Hmmm.
Me: The Stinky Socks? The Stinging Nettles?
E: What’s a stinging nettle?
Me: A plant. How about the Swine Flu? Everybody, run! The Swine Flu is taking the field.
E: Stop, Mom.
Me (making spooky jazzy hands): Oooo. What about the Muscle Spasms?
E: No.
Me: The Allergic Reactions?
E starts to laugh.
Me: The Upper Respiratory Infections? The Cramps? That’s the name of a punk rock band.
E: Who cares? I think I’ll go with the sock one.

At the end of their hour practice, the coach took an extra fifteen minutes (G-d forbid they miss a minute of play) to share information and team building propaganda, which included asking the girls what names they came up with. E said the Killer Robots, which surprised me because she seemed to like the Muscle Spasms best. One girl suggested the Giant Pandas. Another one said the cupcakes (I love girls!). The coach pointed out that it is never good in sports to be called a cupcake and told them to think about it some more. This dissolved into suggestions of the Killer Pandas, the Robot Cupcakes, and the Robot Pandas, before the coach cut them off entirely.

Personally, I am rooting for the Killer Cupcakes.