How Sports Saved My Soul

I've been grappling with a number of varying emotions as of late, specifically with the current state as to which I reside. I wasn't raised with a football in my hand, nor was I inundated with the Sunday spectacle which is traditionally know as "Game Day". Sports were always an option, a fun activity, not a way of life. I have no memories of hard coaches pushing us to the limit of our abilities. I have no memories of a father forcing me to "...catch one more..." or "...you can run faster then that..." or "...what are you, a girl??...". What I do have are fond memories of playing catch with my dad, playing soccer as far back as I can remember, and how much it hurt to be cut from the Baseball Team my Freshman year of High School. It never occurred to me while I was living on the East Coast that I in fact love sports - watching Caps games (glass seats, of course), the O's at Camden Yards (box seats, of course), the Bullets (now known as the Wizards), and even the Skins and Ravens. But how does that play out for my son; my daughter?

This past weekend my boys (the 10 six year olds whom I coach U6 soccer - I call them my boys) played their second game. I won't even go into the debacle of the first. We play split fields: Aggressive and Non-Aggressive. I coach the Aggressive side while my assistant coach coaches the Non-Aggressive. After the game, my son runs over to me (having played on the Non-Aggressive side) and screams "I scored 3 GOALS dad!!!"

My son. 3 goals. Holy shit. 3 goals? Not 3. He scored 3!?

So after a post game custard and I start to review the things I want to work on for next practice, it hits me - I've been introducing soccer to my son since he was very little. Soccer is one of my favorite sports, so I started him young. Fundamentals, introduction of varying tactics, aggressive attacking on my part to allow a core understanding. It worked. I mean, holy fuck, it actually worked. And I saw it coming. I watched him start to dribble the ball without thinking about it - with both feet. It's taken him a little longer then most, but I hoped that when it clicked, he'd be stellar - and he is.

When we moved to the mid-west it was a "concern" as to how I would broach the sports issue with my own children living in such a sports engrossed town? Taking cues from my own father while incorporating a drive that I felt could have pushed me a little harder has really brought a sense of "this is cool as shit".

I look forward to the day I can scream at my daughter openly, with a group of witnesses such things as "ATTACK!!" and "you call that a KICK!?" and my favorite "sweep the LEG!"