Learning The Ropes

At around 3:00pm one afternoon in April 1966-ish, I was waiting at a bus stop in southern Johannesburg in South Africa a few metres away from a wire gate with a large signboard proclaiming Rewlatch Primary School. I had just come from the staff entrance after a full days' worth of teacher training to 10 to 12-year-olds. Needless to comment, the teaching career did not flourish much past that experience.

To-day  in April 2015 around 3:00pm, I stood on the school-grounds in Waikane, NewZealand waiting for my new charges. To-day was the start of the Small Sticks junior hockey season, and I was resuming (sort of) my teaching "career". No reading, no arithmetic, just playing around outdoors with sticks and a bright orange ball (the kids, not me!)

A group of 9- 10- and 11-year-olds stand grouped around me in a haphazard fashion, quite attentive, and one or two in a world of their own. We have 12 players, although only 10 of them, two girls and eight boys have pitched. Perhaps the missing pair have developed cold feet? In New Zealand, most sports are encouraged from a very young age, so that, by the time they develop into teenagers, they are reasonably competent. I've seen five-year-olds handling a rugby ball better than most... there are some future Don Clarkes, Richie McCaws and Colin Meads out on those fields right now. 

I can recall playing post-school hockey in the Strand on a gravel pitch, with so much sliding around, we could have qualified as an ice-hockey team! After the Cape season, I moved to Johannesburg and played on grass fields in the JCE (Johannesburg College of Education) teachers' training colours. Studies tended to clash with practice sessions, and, somehow, the quality of both started to decline,leading to me giving up both, eventually.

But, the game being practiced today is very different, compared to what I was accustomed to. To start off, we never had any girl team members. I can just imagine how many more guys would have been attracted to the sport if girls had been allowed in the team. Eighteen to twenty-year-olds... though, maybe unisex change-rooms might have presented the administrators with a few problems, I guess!

These pre-teen nippers are not allowed to strike the ball, only push, and a strike (which you can clearly hear), is considered a foul. If a player arrives without shin-pads, gum guards or regulation smooth-soled sneakers, they are not allowed on the pitch, which is a beautifully smooth astro-turf, making ball control so much better. Also, less slippery in rainy weather. They play six-a-side plus a goalie on a half-size field -- sort of 'sevens', like in rugby, if you will.

Games are played on Tuesday afternoons at a nearby suburban club, with the 12 team members being rotated through the 30-minute game, so that everyone gets a turn to play every week -- much more inclusive this way, and it gives everyone a chance to develop and improve their skills, as well as trying out their ability and suitability in all the positions. 

Will we win? Where will we end up on the log at the end of the season? Well, it doesn't really matter, although winning is obviously always nice and morale-boosting. Top-of-the-log teams always feel that they have achieved something, but the emphasis at this age level is on team camaraderie, socializing and building friendships, sharing and fair-play, and above all, having fun. You're only a kid once.

I've only been a kid once...  Still am, come to think of it... but they won't let me play in the team... they say it's a bit weird,because I'm taller... I can't see why... but, hey, that's life...

Memo to self: I must remember to buy a whistle... shouting "Oi! Oi! You there! Stop! Oi!" is probably not the best way to control a sports game!

Back home with a star centre-forward-to-be in the making 

Maybe we can get a few photos and stories from the Small Sticks games as time goes on.
Go Sharks, Go!