No Stopping the Game Clock
Ever since the Oldest was the Only, we’ve known this day was coming. It always seemed like it was years in the distance, however so we never really prepared for its impact on our world.
Sometimes, saying goodbye is a happy occasion. Other times it’s agonizing. And for us, it’s simply bittersweet.
Our daughter’s soccer career has come to an end. The Better Half and I are not sure how we feel about this fact.
Curiously, soccer has been part of my life longer that most of my children. The oldest made the change from kicking me to kicking the futbol when she was five years old and since then – for the past 12 years – every spring and fall weekend has been spent trekking to various soccer fields across Northeast Ohio.
I say “curiously,” because I’ll admit to having no understanding and little appreciation for the sport at the beginning. Of course, as faithful readers of this column can attest, there are a great many things about which I have no knowledge or understanding. That hasn’t stopped me from acting like an expert about them, however.
Growing up in the ’60s and ’70s meant soccer was something we played in the gym during winter when it was too wet to go outside and play a real sport like baseball, football or dodgeball. Kickball, to our unworldly minds, was the ONLY sport one should play with one’s feet.
But over the years, I began to gain a degree of appreciation and – dare I say it – affection for the game. As we watched our daughter develop as a player, I occasionally found myself stopping my channel surfing if I saw an MLS or European soccer match on TV. I couldn’t understand what they were screaming about on Telemundo, but the soccer matches from Mexico sure made for compelling viewing.
She played with fire, energy and enthusiasm. Others (including certain officials with whom I had brief and colorful exchanges) might have called it aggressive, but she definitely had a passion for the game. She couldn’t wait to get on the soccer field for practice and she loved got to games whatever the weather.
We might have grumbled because the lawn needed mowing, the leaves needed raking or the driveway needed shoveling but, truth be told, the Better Half and I loved dragging our ratty camp chairs to the soccer field, plopping ourselves down for an hour or so with a bad cup of concession stand cocoa and cheering on our superstar.
In our minds, her career is a SportsCenter highlight reel…of sorts.
There was that time in her first year of playing when the first loose tooth captured more of her attention than the kid she was supposed to be defending. When she finally pulled the tooth out (while dribbling the ball down the field), she lost interest in the game and ran to the sideline holding it up proudly: “I lost my tooth! I lost my tooth!”
There was the indoor soccer game right after she got contact lenses. During a battle for the ball near the goal, one of her new lenses popped out. Rather than giving up on the play, she kept one eye on the goal and another on the ground. Her coach noticed something strange, called timeout and walked out to the field. Both teams then dropped to their knees and searched the artificial turf until – miraculously, they found the lens. We owe Coach Jon a great more than $5 coaches gift he got at the end of the season.
Then there was the time when she was a little older playing in a much more competitive league. The regular goalkeeper sustained a slight injury at the end of the first half (okay, she broke her arm flying to her right trying to stop a shot) and was suddenly out for the season. The coach asked for volunteers to fill the space between the pipes in the second half but everyone wanted to play offense. My kid – who had never played goalie before – stepped up to the challenge and boldly said, “Put me in, Coach.” We were so proud of her at that moment. In true cinematic fashion, the orchestra swelled, the players moved in slow motion and the crowd came to its feet in deafening support. Oh, she didn’t stop a single shot the rest of the game and they ended up getting crushed, but she was willing to do what no one else was and it was beautiful.
Now, as the Better Half and I stand on the edge of Senior Night, preparing to walk her across the field before her last home game, the bittersweet feelings are getting stronger. The Oldest’s dream of playing college and eventually pro soccer gradually flickered out and she says she’s ready for it all to be over.
High school soccer hasn’t been the greatest experience for her. For whatever reason, the team didn’t achieve the kind of success most of its members had enjoyed at the lower levels. The wins didn’t come about as often as the losses. Personality clashes (between and with teenaged girls? NO!) caused friction that we had not anticipated.
But for all the politics and pain, what we’ll remember about her soccer career is our pride in our daughter, playing through whatever difficulties weather, opponents or coaches presented. She might not make the Soccer Hall of Fame, but she’s an all-star in our scorebook.
Doug Kaufman and his wife Renee never played soccer, but Ally (17) has influenced her sister Maria (12) and Ryan (10) enough that they both wear her number (6) on their soccer jerseys.
