You will find short stories on this site. Most are autobiographical. Some are fiction.

THE TEAM NAME

In the spring of 1980, my son, “Zoli”, and some of the boys in his 2nd grade class wanted to form a soccer team. They needed a coach. I was the only dad to volunteer, so I attended Portland Youth Soccer League’s coaches clinic, and we formed a team with weekly practices on the grass-covered athletic field behind their Tualatin View Elementary school.

Mt. St. Helens volcano erupted in May of that year. The devastating initial blast was followed by several minor eruptions. A couple of these occurred when a northeast wind carried ash onto Portland. During these events, fine ash settled into the grass of our soccer field. During subsequent practices, when the boys would kick the soccer ball, a small puff of ash would fly up. The boys enjoyed this because the puff of ash made it seem like the ball had been fired from a cannon, giving them a sense of having “super power.”

Shortly after the ash event, the soccer league let me know that our team needed a name. I felt that it should be up to the boys to choose it, so after practice, I gathered the team together for a meeting. I told them that the Soccer League requires that we have a name, and asked the boys for suggestions. I would expect that a group of boisterous 7 and 8-year-old boys would be boiling over with ideas for their team name, but none of them said a word.

I had thought of a name, one which was relevant to a historic event in their lives, one which was consistent with the sport of soccer, a name which was especially fitting for a bunch of somewhat rowdy second graders. It was a name that would strike terror in their young opponents.

I reminded them of the time when they kicked little clouds of ash. Then I told them my idea for the team’s name. The boys did not immediately react to my suggestion. I wondered, “Were they in rapture with such a great name?” Then an outspoken boy hesitantly raised his hand, as if he were asking for attention from his classroom teacher. I acknowledged him, and he said, “Mr. Lundy, I don’t think my mommy would like that name.” It was not my intention to make an unacceptable suggestion, so that they would come up with their own names, but that is what happened. My rejected suggestion opened the door for them to express their ideas. They decided to call themselves “The Little Rascals.” Little Rascals is an acceptable name, but it’s not as good as my suggestion, “The Little Ash Kickers.”