Should I Just Bubble-Wrap My Tiny Athletes?
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For years, they endured the crazy multicultural, many-hued mania, the global lovefest of that darn round ball.
"Soccer," spat one football coach, through gritted teeth. "You can teach all the fundamentals of that . . . sport, as they call it, in five minutes."
In their double-knit shorts and windbreakers, youth football coaches stomped the sidelines and ordered extra sets of up-downs to the shoulder-padded kids who were the true believers, faithful to football, not futbol.
They watched in disgust as soccer claimed Reston and Rockville, Columbia and Crofton; in disdain as Mia Hamm rocketed from the Fairfax County soccer fields onto the cover of Sports Illustrated and as a $14 million SoccerPlex was erected in Montgomery County; and in disbelief as the most American of icons -- Mom -- became a political voting bloc known as "soccer moms."
That one really hurt.
"But the pendulum is swinging back. It's coming back to football," declared Joe Galat, president of American Youth Football & Cheer, who introduced himself to me as "Mighty Joe." "Maybe it's the macho thing. Macho may be coming back a little. Guys like to really get out there and butt heads."
I want my sons to be soccer boys. But I know they love to butt heads. Turns out a lot of folks think that's just swell.
Across the country, football is seeing its biggest growth in its youngest divisions. They're known in various regions as peewees, midgets, flyweights, mosquitoes, mighty mites, tiny mites, and other adorable little terms that seem completely incongruous with the words most moms think of when it comes to football: tackling, blocking and sacking.
Our region prefers "anklebiters." Yes, that's what the rosters, schedules and legal forms releasing the team from all responsibility when your little mosquito gets squashed call them: anklebiters.
They start as young as kindergarten in some organizations, like the Southern Maryland Football League. That's right, 5-year-olds in full pads and helmets playing tackle football.
I have a 5-year-old.
No way.


