Soccer for dads who spend every other hour of the week on everyone else. One session. Seven-a-side. No team to bring, no tryout, and nobody keeping score of your career.
Somewhere between the school run, the job and the weekend chores, your own health quietly moved to the bottom of the list. This is one hour a week to put it back near the top.
Your last real workout is a fuzzy memory, and the gym membership you keep meaning to use is basically a donation. You want the exercise, but you'd rather earn it chasing a ball than staring at a wall. Turning up is the entire requirement.
You're chasing a title, you want eleven-a-side flat out, or a bad pass sets you off. Nobody here has anything left to prove. Cleats down, ego parked, everybody goes home in one piece and in time for the rest of their day.
Ninety minutes is under one percent of your week. Your family doesn't need a dad who never sits down. They need one who's still around, still moving, and in a decent mood on a Saturday. This is maintenance, not indulgence.
None of this is a guess about how popular it'll be. It's just how the thing is built to run.
Sign up on your own. No team to bring, no skills test, and nobody gets cut.
Small-sided with rolling subs. More touches, fewer sprints, and you can breathe whenever you need to.
Start to finish, warm-up included. You're home before the day gets away from you and nobody's missed a thing.
One home ground in the corridor, picked once we know where everyone actually lives.
Players needed to run a proper session. That's the number we're building toward right now.
To get on the list. Once there's a field and a ref, we split the cost and nobody profits.
No trials, no politics, no league table hanging over anyone. Turn up, warm up, play, get home.
Fifteen minutes of the FIFA 11+, the routine built to keep middle-aged hamstrings attached. Nobody skips it.
Small-sided with rolling subs. Come off whenever your lungs say so. Low stakes, real sweat.
Coffee, a bit of trash talk, then home for pancakes. Twenty minutes of adult conversation goes further than you'd think.
Most of us have desk jobs and haven't sprinted since the last decade. That's exactly who gets hurt, or worse, going hard on a cold body. Nobody's playing for a trophy here, so there's no version of this where we take a risk with it. So there's a short on-ramp before anyone goes full tilt, and it isn't optional. Everyone on the roster also gets CPR and AED certified before they play. If a man goes down out here, the person standing nearest to him will know exactly what to do.
A standard PAR-Q+ questionnaire when you join. Most guys clear it and never think about it again.
If something comes up on the screen, we ask for your physician's OK before you play. That's the only time we'll ask.
The FIFA 11+ warm-up, run as an on-ramp before full-intensity play and then before every session after.
A defibrillator on the sideline, the field address pinned in the group chat, and someone who knows who's calling 911.
Every player gets certified before they take the field. It's one short course, we book it as a group, and it means the nearest man to a collapse is a trained one instead of a bystander. This is the one rule with no exceptions.
Here's where things honestly stand. We're at step one. Nothing's booked, which is why your name matters right now.
Enough dads in one pocket of the corridor and there's a game here. That's all this list is for now. Your ZIP code tells us where to go looking for a field, and the closer it is, the easier this is to keep doing.
Health check first, then CPR and AED certification for the whole squad, then a couple of weeks of warm-ups and light touches. Nobody goes from a desk chair to a full-speed game in one morning.
One field, small-sided, rolling subs. Low stakes on purpose. We find out who turns up and, more to the point, who comes back the week after.
Fixtures, a referee, a permitted field, insurance. Figure a couple of beers a week each, split between us. That covers grass and officiating. Nobody's skimming a profit.
No commitment, no payment. You're telling us you'd turn up if this were real, and roughly where you live so we can find a field close enough that you'll actually keep going.
We'll email you the moment there are enough dads near you to put a game on. Know another dad who could use this? Send it his way. That's how these things actually get off the ground.
That's most of the list. The first few weeks are warm-ups and small-sided touches before anyone plays hard. It's seven-a-side, so there's nowhere to hide and nobody watching either. The only one judging your first touch is you. He can wait.
A two-minute health questionnaire when you sign on. If it flags something, we'll ask for your doctor's OK first. Most guys won't need it. Either way there's an AED on the sideline every week.
You probably don't have to as hard as you think. It's one morning slot a week, and we'll pick the one that gets in the way least, which is what the availability question below is for. Early is usually the answer: play, shower, and you're back before the day properly starts. Plenty of guys bring the kids to watch, too. Seeing dad run around is not the worst thing for them.
Less than you're imagining. Seven-a-side with rolling subs means you sub off the second your lungs complain, and nobody counts how long you sat. The first few weeks are deliberately gentle. The whole point is a body that works better at fifty than it does now, not a hero performance in week one.
Seriously. It's a single course, usually two or three hours, and we'll book one session for the whole squad so you're doing it alongside the guys you'll be playing with. Cardiac arrest on a rec field is rare, but survival depends almost entirely on how fast someone starts compressions. Twenty trained players on a field is the difference between a scare and a funeral. Certification lasts two years and it's yours to keep, on the field and off it.
Nothing to get on the list. Once there's a permitted field and a referee, expect a couple of beers' worth a week to cover grass and officiating, split between everyone. The CPR course is a one-time cost on top, and we'll chase a group rate to keep it down. There's no business here. Just a game.
Somewhere in the Brunswicks, Edison and Princeton stretch. The day isn't settled yet. We'll take whichever slot works for the most people, which is what the availability question on the form is for. The field follows the ZIP codes.
Bring whoever you like. Most people are signing up solo, so turning up alone is the normal thing here. Nobody will think twice about it.