He's no David Beckham

Mark was really excited to start soccer last week. But I've realized he's more excited about the social aspect than the competitive aspect. He'd rather goof around during practice than actually scrimmage.

He did really well at the first practice, but he was burnt out by the second one. While the other boys aggressively raced toward the ball, Mark casually jogged behind. When the other boys crashed into each other in a mob of kicking legs and flailing arms, Mark stood back a safe distance.

He's more wily than athletic. When a kid from the other team threw in the ball, Mark yelled "Over here!" to confuse him. It worked, and Mark kicked the ball into the goal. It was such a successful move, he's tried it at each subsequent practice, though the other kids are on to him now.

But what Mark hates the most is the running. He's a good runner, and fast. He hates to continuously run up and down the field, back and forth, chasing the ball over and over again (even when I explained, "Um, that's how you play soccer!"). He said he'd rather play baseball because, "you only have to run a little bit -- just a few short sprints every once in a while."

During last night's water break, I gave him some friendly advice.

"Get in there and get the ball!" I said. "Stop goofing around and hustle."

He shrugged and gulped his water down.

"Do you see the other guys running?" I asked. "They're really hustling. You need to hustle, too."

He shook his head and told me, "But I'm not that type of guy."

"What type of guy?" I asked. "The kind who hustles?"

"Yeah," he answered. Then he dropped his water bottle, called out "Bye!" and meandered slowly over to his team.

Because apparently, that's the kind of guy he is...