One Crazy Night
The good things: the red team I coach, Red Fury, played two great games this week. Sunday's was a hard-fought tie, they played so well that day that I was beaming with pride, hoping that they'd continue the upward trend.
And they did, winning their second game ever last night with a 5-1 victory. I am so proud of the way they have come together, changing from a bunch of individuals into a team, a real team that passes, makes plays, protects their goalie and yes, scores goals. They started the season off kinda rough, with some clashes on the bench that made for not that much fun for everyone. I did the right thing and stepped in, removing the coach (yes, replacing that coach with myself) and moving a couple of players to other teams. While an option would have been to leave things as they were and hope for the best, I'm glad I took the harder road and made those changes early in the season. Rock on, Red Fury! (and the three other teams, who are also better off from these changes).
The bad things: I missed the Caltrain. I was sitting on the platform, reading my Newsweek, waiting for the train to come up from the south, like it always does. I saw a freight train come by, waved at the conductors, and waited, ignoring the train that had come in from the north, presuming that it would continue south to Tamien like all Caltrains do.
But it didn't. The motherfucker sat there, doors open, for a few minutes, then headed back north just as I put the whole picture together. So I drove up to meet Andrea for dinner, then go on to coach.
That's not the worst thing that happened last night. I wish it was, because at least the image of me oblivious to the departing train is kinda funny.
When we got home from the game, we were watching TV, minding our own business, when I looked over to see Patrick in the throes of a seizure. It wasn't as big as some he's had, but it was the first time he pooped in the process. Yum. He was totally confused afterwards, kept wandering behind the couch like he was looking for something and whining.
I suspect that the little guy has been catching a taste of the pills we hide in his food, then spitting them out. I would, too, but unfortunately this is the price you pay for not taking them. We're just going to have to watch more carefully when he eats, which is at least funny to watch since his ears get in the way and he has no idea that he could just lift his head to get them out of the way. Instead he sort of pushes the food around with his head and follows his ear around the bowl. Silly P.
Stop having those damn seizures, would ya?