Don't judge a book by it's cover, or a girl by her figure.

I love the summer time so much. It is without question my favorite time of the year. Sunshine, tan skin, margaritas… Often we will have friends gather at my neighborhood pool to bar-b-que, share some unique alcoholic punches of varying flavors and colors, swim, play, lay in the sun, etc… Others in my neighborhood do this as well, and it generally turns in to a mash-up of friends and good times. The other day I had a couple hours free on a glorious Saturday, so I decided to go lay out at the pool for awhile and read my book. There was a little paper sign on the gate that said “happy birthday Brandon” with a picture of a dinosaur on it surrounded by spider man stickers. I was guessing based on this that Brandon was not turning 25 and that there would be no alcoholic punch of any color available for partaking in at this particular pool party.

Once inside the pool area I was actually happy to see the many kids splashing and playing in the shallow end of the pool, older kids doing cannon balls into the deeper end. All too often I visit the gigantic pool and find that I am the only person there. Which is a shame given the amount of money we homeowners pay annually to keep the thing open and sparkling clean.

I walked down near the deep end of the pool and set up shop. Towel on the lounger, check. Book out, check. Flip flops off, Gatorade out, dunk in the pool to cool off, check, check, check. Once established, I took a quick scan of the entire pool. I will be the first to admit that I am a people-watcher. People are infinitely interesting to me. I think there’s a lot to be said for what you can tell about people by watching them for 5 minutes. I also think there’s a lot to be said for what you CAN’T tell about them, both points equally intriguing.

Near the covered area of the concrete, what we call “the pavilion”, the birthday party-goers gathered. Moms and dads with children scattered all over ranging in ages from 8 months to probably 12 or 13 years old. Most of the women were wearing dark colored swimsuits with skirt bottoms, the men in Hawaiian flowered trunks of blue, red, orange. Both trying to wrangle children long enough to slap some spf 30 on them and send them on their way. I sat down on my lounger and thought about how I can’t wait until that’s me. Cranky and yelling, “Get over here so I can put sunscreen on you! You’re going to burn up like a Christmas Ham!” I smiled to myself, because that’s exactly what I would say.

It wasn’t long after I was all settled in with my borrowed copy of Dry, by Augusten Burroughs, that I noticed the cutest little toddler jumping off the side of the pool. He was absolutely fearless. His dad would catch him, let him go under water, pop him back up, and set him back on the edge. He would run a circle and charge back into the pool. This went on for several minutes. He just laughed and laughed… it was one of the cutest things I’d ever seen! The little baby noticed me too and really began hamming it up. Smiling and looking back to make sure I was watching before plunging in again. Shortly thereafter I flipped over onto my stomach and returned to my book.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a group of three women gathering in the pool. They were near the father/ son dynamic duo, and about 15 feet from where I was laying. It became apparent that one of the women in the pool was the mother of the brave little cliff jumper, and the other two were her friends. I began to hear under-the-breath comments, though I wasn’t catching full sentences. “Inaudible… inaudible… Barbie… inaudible… with her little towel and Gatorade… hehehe inaudible” giggle… giggle… giggle…

I didn’t look up for a long time. Just pretended I couldn’t hear them, and kept my nose in my book. Then, “Hey Evan, go ask her how much those puppies set her back!” Hehehe Giggle… giggle…. cackle. Evan, the apparent father of baby Cliff Jumper turned around and shushed them. Obviously embarrassed by his wife’s rather large friend’s outbursts, he took the baby to the other side of the pool. Not saying anything, I glanced up at the group in the water. I started thinking… these women are mothers for God’s sake. Don’t they have something better to do with their time than gawk at me and make ridiculous rude comments based on inappropriate assumptions? Whatever. Long ago I abandoned the idea that everyone in the world was nice and good. I turned back over, still reading, and took a sip of my Gatorade. It was getting a little warm. Yuck.

A few minutes later I heard again, “Evan… seriously… go ask her! (Laugh, snort) Go ask her how much those things set her back!” Evan still ignored the woman I’d begun to refer to in my mind as the ‘big-mouthed-not-so-beached-whale’. But she and her two friends still cackled in the pool, bobbing up and down like a few misplaced buoys. The sight of them, accompanied by her words started to sting a little. I started bouncing thoughts around in my head… So let me get this straight… just because I have on a two piece swimsuit, sans skirt bottom, and am drinking Gatorade, reading, and laying out… I am “Barbie” and you want to know what my “puppies set me back”? Screw that. There are many women in this world who do have breast implants, a number of them because of that awful thing known as breast cancer. My future mother in law, for example… One of the most beautiful women I know, inside and out. If those cellulite infested women had made that comment about her, I would have been in that pool swinging in a heartbeat. I am lucky. I have not had breast cancer. But these women don’t know that.

I made up my mind to leave. As I stood up and began to pack my things I heard another Barbie comment, something about “…don’t forget your heels ha ha ha.” I looked down at my 3 dollar Old Navy flip flops and simply could not take it anymore. I turned around, beach bag on my shoulder, and walked to the edge of the pool so that I was looking squarely down on the cacklers. “Are you referring to these ‘puppies’?” I asked and pointed to my chest. The women just looked at me, two of them moving slightly away from the one delivering the colorful commentary. The looks on their faces said ‘oh shit’ as they shifted their gazes from me to the whale and back again. Whale started, “oh… well…. I….” but I cut her off.

Staring right at her I said, “Oh, I don’t know. If I have to guess I’d say they’re worth about 5 grand, give or take. Also, I know a really great doctor if you’d like his number. He does liposuction so you could get some of that (finger pointing up and down motion) taken care of.” She stood there in the pool, mouth open, just looking up at me. Then she kind of whispered, “Excuse… me…?”… My turn again. “Oh, have I offended you? I apologize. I thought we were free to share our thoughts on each other’s appearances here today. Sorry ‘bout that.”

I walked away slowly; prepared for more battle should that be necessary. I could feel all the catty women in the pool watch me leave. But as I walked passed Evan, he smiled at me and waved Cliff Jumper’s little baby hand. I felt bad for stooping to their level, but part of me really hoped that there was some kind of lesson communicated. That maybe next time they won’t be so rude, judgmental, and mean spirited. I know that since the beginning of time girls have been unkind to one another occasionally, but it’s no wonder we have such bully issues in schools these days with mothers like that setting examples.

Please, everyone. Be slow to judge. Harrumph.

Spring of '99

I've kept this in a box for ten years. It has survived 8 moves with me, and countless reads. This has served as inspiration for me so very often. It is a true story... one which I think of often and look back on fondly. Thanks, Wilhelm, for providing me with motivation... still.

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1999 Girls Soccer Poem

By: Coach Ron Wilhelm

Just a few little words for these ladies of mine.

So prop up your feet, as I commence my rhyme.

I will start at the beginning, when I was first offered this position.

Coaching girls in sports was against my intuition.

How could I relate, I was this macho man.

What did I know about make-up, or artificial tans.

I heard we had some talent, a team with a lot of spark.

And a halfway decent forward, by the name of Debbie Stark.

So I said what the heck, I will give this thing a try.

I could appreciate plumeria lotion, just like any other guy.

I mean I have a 3 year old girl; this could help me my wife would say.

I could reach my feminine side, Yeah, ok… anyway!

So it is the first day of practice, and I could see the fear in their eyes.

They had heard horror stories from some Northwest soccer guys.

Could these girls be pushed, or would they buckle at the knees?

What transpired next would shock this coach indeed.

I had them crawling in mud, and running up steep hills.

Doing pushups and sit ups, just to test their will.

I even made them carry girls upon their backs.

But these ladies would not break, for guts they did not lack.

After a tough three weeks, we were ready for our first game.

It was at home against Fox, and we put them to shame.

Right then I knew this season would be great.

Not just in our record, but in the memories we would create,

Speaking of memories, I would like to share a few.

I wonder parents if you know, just what your girls do.

The first involves Kristen, the leading clown on the team.

She decided to flash some girls, if you know what I mean.

But it was not just the girls, who saw Kristen in the light.

A one Matt Stichling, had his eyes fixed on the sight.

The second memory involves, coach Amwary himself.

I wonder if he picks his outfits, from the male or female shelf.

He came to practice one day, with cute ruffly socks.

Not the kind worn by, tough masculine jocks.

As you can imagine, the girls had a field day with that.

They picked on everything worn, by this cool dressing cat.

I must admit coaching girls, brought something new every day.

Especially on the bus rides for the games that were away.

Girls and guys prepare differently, on the rides to the game.

Guys bang their heads, until they go about insane.

Girls get out their mirrors, put make up on their face.

Take out their combs, to make sure every hair is in place.

They lotion up their skin, take out perfume to spray.

Put on lipstick and eyeliner, now they are ready to play.

They step onto the field, and put on a new face.

One that says, “I am getting that ball, so you best get out of the way.”

Their competitive spirit, is better than any guys team I have known.

They have got so much heart and guts, they are just bad to the bone.

Our regular season was outstanding, with only one misstep along the way.

A loss against Seckman, in our Senior’s last home game.

This loss would prove to be, the best thing for this team.

We had to get refocused, if we were to fulfill our dream.

So, it was back to the drawing board, and back to the hills.

It was suicide sprints, and a test of their will.

How would they respond, when put to the test.

I will tell you what we got, Northwest’s best team yet!

We rolled off five straight wins, and it was now district time.

I felt sorry for our opponent, because it was our turn to shine.

First it was Fox, who thought they could compete.

Until Mandy buried a goal, and ensured their defeat.

Next it was Seckman, who had given us a loss.

But now it was our turn, to show them who was boss.

It only took one minute, to shut up the Jaguar’s team.

That whole game was turning out, just like I had dreamed.

Before you knew it we had victory, the score was four to one.

Seckman was out there crying, while the Lions were having fun.

We had finally won district, after a very long drought.

This, I was thinking, is what sports is all about.

It was also about motivation, and I did my share.

I was soon was transformed, into a stud with blonde hair.

Northwest was on the way, and we were not done with our dance.

But if you read the papers, we did not stand a chance.

They all called us underdogs, we did not have a prayer in the world.

One small, small problem: they forgot to tell our girls.

The girls knew they would be ready, to come out and play.

But, just for safe measure, we thought we should pray.

So Holly led us in prayer, and it was time to take the field.

This was the State tournament; let us see who was real.

After 80 minutes of soccer, there still was no score.

It was now into overtime, could our girls give anymore?

You could throw out skill, it was now about the guts.

It was time to take names, and start kicking butt.

It was one overtime, two overtimes, three overtimes and then four.

120 minutes of soccer, and still, a 0-0 score.

What transpired next, was to be my greatest coaching thrill.

A gut wrenching moment in sports, the ultimate test of will.

It is called penalty kicks, and the pressure is unreal.

I started talking to God, “Hey, let’s make a deal.”

But, it was Hazelwood who was, nervous as Janelle moved in the net.

She was psyching out the Hawks, who were beading up with sweat.

Their first shot went over, and it was Debbie’s turn to score.

I was very confident; she had done this, oh, 43 times before.

Next was Mandy K, our senior leader was set.

Before the keeper could move, the ball was in the net.

Next was Janelle, in my opinion, keeper of the year.

This girl is all heart, she knows no fear.

She very calmly walked up, and then tickled the twine.

Yes, Janelle Simpson, it was your turn to shine.

Our fourth kicker was Brooks; a little nervous, no a lot!

But, you could never tell, by the way she buried her shot.

It was four kickers up, and four shots made.

Come on Janelle, just one more to save!

And what a save it was, history was made.

Yes, Lady Lions, this memory will never fade.

Northwest was now, one of the best in the state.

We were now in the quarterfinals, among the elite eight.

I was so proud of these girls, and not just one or two.

It was a whole team effort that helped see this through.

As far as individuals, where do I begin?

Maybe my freshman sweeper, Amanda, who could stop a truck from going in.

What can you say about Debbie? Coaching her was a dream.

She is simply the finest athlete this state has ever seen.

But, she is much more than that, as most of you know for sure.

I can only hope my daughter; can grow to be like her.

And to Mandy, Janelle, Jessie and Amber G…

To Holly, Amanda, and to Carrie Girse.

Thank you, thank you, for all that you have done.

You special seniors, really make coaching fun.

And no I have not forgotten Kristen Riff’s special part.

You see she holds a place, very close to my heart.

She suffered a broken leg, a couple years ago.

And there is something about her that I want you to know.

She ran all our sprints, and all of our hills.

She never copped out on any of our drills.

She did not play much, but there is no shame.

She deserves a spot in our soccer hall of fame.

In my parting words to the seniors, you better come visit next year.

For although you may be gone, you are always welcome here.

A greater team, a greater season, I don’t think I will ever find.

Let us never forget just how magical, was the spring of ’99.