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Oct 2006 Issue
by Dave Ellis
My oldest daughter has recently taken up soccer, or football for you continental-types. We tried signing her up when she was five, but she didn’t like it when the other kids took the ball from her. She still wanted us to sign her up, but only because she wanted to keep the uniform.
We explained that we’d get her a hundred dollar uniform only if it would get us onto airplane flights for free. Four years later, the soccer bug bit her again, using its mouth and feet, but no hands.
Youth soccer is like a tennis match with five players on each side. Once anyone gets the ball it’s booted to the other side of the field. The other team gets the ball and boots it back. This was my first game experience: nobody tried to pass to their teammates.
They all just walloped the ball like they were going for a home run in kick ball. This went on for three hours before the referee blew a whistle and everyone got a Rice Krispy treat. Not a bad sport in my book.
I did play soccer for one season as a child. I was terrible. To be fair, this was in Alaska, so the season lasted around three weeks. I remember standing there waiting for the ball to come to me, like I was in left field. Then one day it happened: I got the ball and I was right by the opposing goal!
I swung my leg back and kicked the ball as hard as I could and… watched the ball hit the goal post and go out-of-bounds. That should count for something. If it was horseshoes I would have received some kind of point. That was the closest I ever got to making a goal.
Back to my daughter’s first soccer game. I’m glad that she has taken interest in the sport. I want her to have the same confidence-building experiences that I had, that is, to almost make a goal. It’s done me wonders! I have dozens of almost finished projects around the house that I keep banging off the goal post.
But my daughter has a secret weapon that I didn’t have growing up, a father who wants to live through her accomplishments! Just kidding, I’m not like that. I do see how a parent could get crazy like that though, it’s exciting to watch your kids play sports!
So the game was tied 0-0 for the first 2 hours when suddenly my daughter gets the ball and dribbles down to the goal, swings her leg back and boots it…right into the goal post. I mentally gave her some points for hitting the post and watched as the other team finally scored. After the game I told her that she had now tied me in soccer. She rolled her eyes and ate her Rice Krispy treat.
A week later we were at game two. This time my daughter got the ball and scored! I was ecstatic, jumping around like a maniac and screaming. The game was now 1-4 but I didn’t care, my offspring scored! That’s like me scoring but not doing any work at all!
After the game she walked over with a big smile on her face. As I hugged her, she looked up and said, “I’ve scored more goals than you Dad.”
At that moment I realized that there’s no greater joy than raising confident and strong children. AND there’s no greater humbling experience than being emasculated by your daughter in front of spectators. Maybe next year we’ll just opt for the uniform.
