The End of JAGS

It begins with registration at the Mercer County Park HQ Tent. 

Nobody else is dwelling on the last JAGS, so I guess I shouldn't either.  But I'll miss it.

It was a great run - 33 years - for the tournament and for me as the college coordinator for more than 10 years.  Next year for the first time in nearly 20 years I won't be spending Father's Day on a soccer field.

Of all the long-time committee members at Mercer County Park this past weekend, no one really said anything about the end of an institution in youth soccer.  Work Friday and family commitments 

The sun is coming up at MCP at 7 a.m.

Sunday prevented me from going to breakfast or dinner with everyone on those days, which was my loss because they are such good people.  As I have often said, the tournament seems to run itself because everyone knows his or her job very well and does it very well.  But that would not be giving enough credit to tournament directors Tom Bayless and Rick Firth, who along with many others have put in countless hours every year to make this event work so well.

On my end, I've enjoyed meeting many college coaches, many of whom such as Joe Russo (TCNJ), John Sumoski (Wilkes), Christa Racine

Setting up the HQ tent early on Saturday.

(Drew), Erik Burstein (Kutztown), Rick Brownell (Arcadia), Nick Juengert (Stockton), Tim Dempsey (Mansfield), Kevin Davies (Centenary) and others, I consider friends even though I see them only once a year.  Many return year after year with the same school, others show up new to the job.  Now, many are younger than my own kids.  One who was here this weekend was a teammate of my son's in Medford nearly 20 years ago and is married to one of my former players.  I love hearing the coaches stories of the season just past, of seasons to come, of their own backgrounds in the sport.

The sausage sandwich with pepper and onions is huge.

The weekend was not without nostalgia.  I followed some of the same rituals I have for years: an early stop at the Dunkin Donuts at Sloan Avenue and Quaker Bridge Road before heading over to Mercer County Park; carrying the box of college coaches' profile books across the grass slickened by morning dew and setting up the table at the headquarters tent; the Italian sausage sandwich lunch at the concession stand Saturday, riding the golf carts around the site to make sure all the college coaches were happy.

And watching the games brought back memories.  There were smiles and laughter: The joy of scoring a goal, winning a game, advancing to the championship,  parents and girls hanging out with friends between games.  There was tension.  Players being a little nervous if a coach from one of their colleges was there.  And there were some tears: the frustration of giving up a goal, of losing, or worse, of an injury.  They are scenes played out thousands of time each year on soccer fields around the country.  They are scenes that have been part of my life for so long.

Sunday John Esposito and I talked about my good friend, Joe Dadura, who died last December.  Not surprisingly, John mentioned what a good age group coordinator Joe had been, trying to do the best for all the teams, not just his own.

But it's over.  I watched a good U16 championship game between the Randolph Rampage and the South Jersey  Elite Barons '96 (Barons won, 2-1) and that was it.  I drove my cart back to the HQ tent, said goodbye to John Esposito, Bill Gosselin and Tom Bayless and drove home for a Fathers Day dinner.