milestone...
I'm back from my blogging hiatus.
The events of this past weekend, I can't contain myself. This weekend was a dream come true and so far in life I have learned these events do not happen very often. To most people from the outside looking in, the events of this weekend as no real big deal. This is for those parents that have lived life with a personal passion, maybe something you wish you would have pursued or something just because of age you had to give up. Face it, we're not getting any younger. At least I'm not.
Rewind the clock to February 19th, 2001 in Fairfield, Ohio. More exactly, Mercy Fairfield Hospital around noon, my wife was asleep (thanks to the power of medicine) and I was sitting alone in the hospital room. About eight hours from one of the greatest moments of my life, I sat there pondering what this little boy that we were about to be blessed with, will be like. A moment I will never forget. I sat in the chair, feet hanging over one end of the chair & my head hanging over the other arm gazing up at the ceiling with an occasional glimpse over to my wife when she moved. I sat thinking about what he was going to be like. Will he be into sports? Will he like the same things I like? Will he even like me? What is life going to be like 2 months from now? 5 years? 10 years? 20 years?
I grew up loving sports. I loved playing them; watching them. I had talents in all major sports. I could hang pretty well in football, basketball, baseball & soccer. My first love, though, was soccer, the beautiful game as it is called. It is a sport that isn't appreciated by many, unless you really understand the skill involved to be GOOD at it. I have been playing since I was in 2nd grade. It wasn't until I was in about 4th / 5th grade that I became really good at it and realized I could have a future in it. Enough about those details, that's not what this is really about. Sitting in that chair, I hoped, almost prayed that he would love soccer. Selfish, I know but what Dad hasn't done that, right?... hoped his son would be as talented or more so than themselves in something they have done.
I am fortunate. My son is more talented than I am. I have had the blessing of coaching him five of the six soccer seasons that he has played. I didn't coach one season and mid way through the season I told my wife "I quit doing this parent thing, I want to coach again." I love coaching the game and my son loves me coaching him. The staying after practice and working on drills, just the two of us. Going up to the fields in the summer just to kick around, just the two of us. The drive to and from the field talking about the game or how to do something better. He actually looks up to me (not much longer though). This is the one thing that the two of us have poured a lot of time in effort into.
This weekend we were in a big tournament. This is the first team that has been good enough to make it to a tournament. The first two games were awesome. Josiah scored the first goal of the first game. They came back and scored two more. It was 2-1 going into the forth period. We scored in the forth to tie. Josiah shot on goal, the goalie dived on the ball and then it squirted out from under the goalie, Josiah took it and shot...GOAL!!! The ref then blew the final whistle...we won! The next game Josiah scored the only goal in the game & we were guaranteed a spot in the finals. We lost our third game, playing shorthanded, but we still qualified for the Final game. The final was a nail bitter, but we won 2-0. We had won the Championship! At 7 years old my son accomplished something that I had never. I had played on all sorts of sports teams from football, basketball to soccer, but never had I been on a Championship team. I won awards, myself, but never as a team to be called the Champions.
OK, I know, it was a U8 Tournament, not the World Cup or Olympics or something, but he has a taste. At 7 years old he has a taste of what its like to be a star of a team, but not only just the star, but a Champion. He ran to the side lines jumping up and down, headed straight for me and he hugged me exclaiming "We are the Champions!" "We did it, buddy, we did it." I responded. This was a season of hard work by both of us, and I couldn't have been prouder of the boys. Coaching this age is fun...and I'm sure I don't have much longer to coach him. Dealing with the "politics" of coaching older kids, doesn't interest me. So this is a moment I have to savor with my son. I am sure I will have moments like this with my daughter. As a matter of fact she ran across the field after the game was over all I heard was her little voice yelling like she does after every game "DADDY, DADDY" Then I get a big hug. At that moment in life, I don't think I have ever felt that good. I'll let you in on a secret...I stepped away from the crowd for a moment to pick up the water bottles and trash on our sideline...I was trying hard not to get choked up. I wasn't just proud of my son, but all the boys. If my son keeps going in soccer, that won't be his last, I'm sure. For some of those boys, that may be the only time...and I helped them get there. Living vicariously through each one of them, I guess. Every season, I get attached to each team. Next season will be hard...because this will be a hard team to forget.
Josiah is so proud of his trophy, he took it to school today. To be honest, I am proud of my trophy too, I think I'll take it to my office tomorrow.
The events of this past weekend, I can't contain myself. This weekend was a dream come true and so far in life I have learned these events do not happen very often. To most people from the outside looking in, the events of this weekend as no real big deal. This is for those parents that have lived life with a personal passion, maybe something you wish you would have pursued or something just because of age you had to give up. Face it, we're not getting any younger. At least I'm not.
Rewind the clock to February 19th, 2001 in Fairfield, Ohio. More exactly, Mercy Fairfield Hospital around noon, my wife was asleep (thanks to the power of medicine) and I was sitting alone in the hospital room. About eight hours from one of the greatest moments of my life, I sat there pondering what this little boy that we were about to be blessed with, will be like. A moment I will never forget. I sat in the chair, feet hanging over one end of the chair & my head hanging over the other arm gazing up at the ceiling with an occasional glimpse over to my wife when she moved. I sat thinking about what he was going to be like. Will he be into sports? Will he like the same things I like? Will he even like me? What is life going to be like 2 months from now? 5 years? 10 years? 20 years?
I grew up loving sports. I loved playing them; watching them. I had talents in all major sports. I could hang pretty well in football, basketball, baseball & soccer. My first love, though, was soccer, the beautiful game as it is called. It is a sport that isn't appreciated by many, unless you really understand the skill involved to be GOOD at it. I have been playing since I was in 2nd grade. It wasn't until I was in about 4th / 5th grade that I became really good at it and realized I could have a future in it. Enough about those details, that's not what this is really about. Sitting in that chair, I hoped, almost prayed that he would love soccer. Selfish, I know but what Dad hasn't done that, right?... hoped his son would be as talented or more so than themselves in something they have done.
I am fortunate. My son is more talented than I am. I have had the blessing of coaching him five of the six soccer seasons that he has played. I didn't coach one season and mid way through the season I told my wife "I quit doing this parent thing, I want to coach again." I love coaching the game and my son loves me coaching him. The staying after practice and working on drills, just the two of us. Going up to the fields in the summer just to kick around, just the two of us. The drive to and from the field talking about the game or how to do something better. He actually looks up to me (not much longer though). This is the one thing that the two of us have poured a lot of time in effort into.
This weekend we were in a big tournament. This is the first team that has been good enough to make it to a tournament. The first two games were awesome. Josiah scored the first goal of the first game. They came back and scored two more. It was 2-1 going into the forth period. We scored in the forth to tie. Josiah shot on goal, the goalie dived on the ball and then it squirted out from under the goalie, Josiah took it and shot...GOAL!!! The ref then blew the final whistle...we won! The next game Josiah scored the only goal in the game & we were guaranteed a spot in the finals. We lost our third game, playing shorthanded, but we still qualified for the Final game. The final was a nail bitter, but we won 2-0. We had won the Championship! At 7 years old my son accomplished something that I had never. I had played on all sorts of sports teams from football, basketball to soccer, but never had I been on a Championship team. I won awards, myself, but never as a team to be called the Champions.
OK, I know, it was a U8 Tournament, not the World Cup or Olympics or something, but he has a taste. At 7 years old he has a taste of what its like to be a star of a team, but not only just the star, but a Champion. He ran to the side lines jumping up and down, headed straight for me and he hugged me exclaiming "We are the Champions!" "We did it, buddy, we did it." I responded. This was a season of hard work by both of us, and I couldn't have been prouder of the boys. Coaching this age is fun...and I'm sure I don't have much longer to coach him. Dealing with the "politics" of coaching older kids, doesn't interest me. So this is a moment I have to savor with my son. I am sure I will have moments like this with my daughter. As a matter of fact she ran across the field after the game was over all I heard was her little voice yelling like she does after every game "DADDY, DADDY" Then I get a big hug. At that moment in life, I don't think I have ever felt that good. I'll let you in on a secret...I stepped away from the crowd for a moment to pick up the water bottles and trash on our sideline...I was trying hard not to get choked up. I wasn't just proud of my son, but all the boys. If my son keeps going in soccer, that won't be his last, I'm sure. For some of those boys, that may be the only time...and I helped them get there. Living vicariously through each one of them, I guess. Every season, I get attached to each team. Next season will be hard...because this will be a hard team to forget.
Josiah is so proud of his trophy, he took it to school today. To be honest, I am proud of my trophy too, I think I'll take it to my office tomorrow.
posted by student at 4.11.08
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