My fourteen year old son came home the other day announcing that the team captain position for their high school soccer varsity was offered to him. He’s still contemplating whether to accept it or not. And of course, like any other sports stage mother that I was and still am, my heart lept with excitement!
And while the whole world is still with World Cup fever, I dedicate this blog to Maxi, soccer player par excellence. Of course that’s coming from his no. 1 fan in the world, me. I didn’t appreciate soccer until Maxi joined the community team when he was 6 years old. I thought it was just good for his weak lungs. But as I watched the game played by other six year olds, I got mesmirized with how this game of getting a goal could be so ecstatically superlative.
Six year olds were cute in their uniforms but they were running and running and running at an age when they were falling and falling and falling. They were running and then they would trip and fall and amazingly these small lads would pick themselves up again faster than they feel their hurt. Instantly, there was no more crying after they’d fall down. Even just for that alone, I would hail this game as the best experience on how to teach kids the meaning of resilience, endurance, self-esteem and teamwork.
And when they go for the goal, these children without them knowing it become larger than life, running with the wind, kicking the ball and aiming for the goal until they give it their best shot, mind, body and soul. And when they score, everyone shouts for joy atop their six year old voices.
Sometimes, the sight becomes too precious that my heart stops for a few seconds just to capture the moment. And now he’s fourteen. My heart continues to pound as I cheer for all his team and team mates. When they make him team captain, I would volunteer as team manager!
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