Tuesday, February 22, 2005

Soccer dads

I had forgiven my dad for his nonexistance in the lives of me and my three brothers. I figured, I'm grown now, water under the bridge, so I accepted his absence. That was until 3 years ago when I had my own son. I love him dearly, and I can't imagine not being a part of his every day, in some regard.

My 3-year old son had his third soccer game this past weekend. I watched and cheered him on from the sidelines. And he was watching me. He ran fast as his legs could move him. He kicked at the ball although missing most times. He jumped out the way barley missing a knockdown. Finally, he was knocked down. But whatever happened, he looked back at me. His eyes met mine and he'd fight back a grin of renewed confidence. He didn't want it to show. But it showed. The other boys did the same. Kick a goal, look for dad. Make a recover, look for dad. And each time I could tell by the expression on their faces, their eyes had found him. Not to dis mom, she's important, of course. He needs her encouragment, of course. He desires her approval, of course. But moms a girl, dad's a boy and instinctively he sees himself through his dad.

I know, because that's who I was looking for. And my eyes rarely found his.

So no matter what kind of deadline I have looming I'll be at Kolby's game. And every one following. Because my eyes meeting his does the same for my soul, as it does for him.

Dad, you missed out.


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Unrelated thought for the day: Ok Mike, no more games. Let's get this over with.

2 comments:

woodrow241 said...

Dont have a son yet but I hope to experience that one day. Nice post.

The Archivist said...

Your son is 3 years old and plays soccer? That's a great achievement! Does he play well, considering his age?