SOCCER STARS

There is an untapped market of comedy out there in the world of television, and it is the 4-Year-Old Soccer Channel.

Now you may not be a soccer fan. Or you may not be a fan of 4-year-olds. But rest assured, there is no one who appreciates comedy who will not appreciate 4-year-olds playing soccer. It is to funny what Oliver Stone is to conspiracy.

My daughter, Allie, started playing this year, and I was excited that this would be her first year on the pitch, as soccer was my sport growing up. I was too small to play football, and I learned very early on that a baseball that hit you would hurt immensely, so I opted for soccer.

One area in which I was somewhat concerned was the whole “playing by the rules” aspect. Allie has always enjoyed playing sports and games, but she isn’t a big fan of the set structure, and tends to make up her own rules. (This is a genetic trait she gets from my father, who has never played a board game by its intended rules. The board for Trivial Pursuit is considered blasphemous in his house. The sad part? He’s actually developed a better trivia game without the board.) So Allie and I would start playing, say, tee-ball in the yard, and before I knew it, the tee was a microphone and you had to announce that you were going to throw the ball to the My Little Pony (”The PRETEND one, standing by Strawberry Shortcake!”) and jump down the hopscotch squares before tickling your brother to win.

So my wife and I spent many hours coaching Allie on how there were established rules of the game, and she had to adhere to all of them, rather than make up her own version of soccer, even if it was more fun.

Fortunately, mob mentality is a powerful motivator for kids, so when she saw a dozen other kids doing something, she would generally stick to the program. During the first practice, I saw that these kids were going to be a team. A unit. A finely tuned organism. Or, as another dad referred to them, an amoeba.

Little kids playing soccer have very little strategy, save run after the ball. So you end up getting this blob of kid oozing about the field after the ball. Occasionally, and possibly on accident, contact would get made with the ball and it would squirt of the mass, and the blob would shift its direction, oozing downfield again.

But the best part — and the part that will score huge in the ratings arena — is the action that occurs away from the ball. Take Allie, for example, who led the league in CIRs (cartwheels in regulation). Yes, Allie anchored a rock-solid defense by repeatedly turning cartwheels. Undeniable fact: Not a single goal was scored during any quarter in which Allie did cartwheels. If that’s not cause and effect, I don’t know what it is.

There were countless other enjoyable on-field activities. For example, Allie and one of her schoolmates could not be near each other on the field together, as soccer games tend to grind to a halt when teammates are constantly stopping for hug breaks. I am guessing there are not a lot of professional soccer coaches who have to repeatedly say, “No more hugging!” Or, maybe there are. That Beckham guy is kind of weird.

Other teams had their share of entertainment, too. One girl, for example, played most of the game as a horse. Seriously. She bucked and whinnied and was, well, a horse. Another kid got very upset whenever he didn’t get the ball kicked to him, and would drop into a sobbing heap on the ground, despite the fact that, let’s be frank here, sharp crisp passes are not the forte of 4-year-old soccer, and the only way you’re going to get the ball is through the laws of random luck.

Among the other entertaining moments of the season: Goalie naptime; underwear comparison; little brothers of teammates making sprints onto the field; the hypnotic gaze of every player when an ambulance with its siren went by; and my personal favorite, the on-the-bench argument over whether or not you could cheer for the other team.

ALLIE: YEAH!

TEAMMATE: Hey, she’s on the other team.

ALLIE: But she’s my friend.

TEAMMATE: Your friend’s a horse.