For better or worse, our interactions with others change us.
On this day, a man changed me.
The Soccer Dad.
He entered my office boisterous, smiling, and full of energy. He'd brought his son in for a consultation for orthodontic braces. He was kind, and in my industry, that already gives him a thumbs up.
But when we got into their family schedule, we faced an obstacle in finding any availability. Again, I had no idea I was about to be transformed with a small exchange of words.
"Sorry about the crazy schedule," The Dad apologized. "He's got soccer practice and I'm his coach."
"I played soccer for six years," I said. "Did you play soccer growing up too?"
"Oh, no, I was more of a football and baseball guy," He answered. "But when he took an interest in soccer a few years ago, I decided to join a men's league so I could grasp what the training and game was all about. This way I could really coach him correctly."
"Wow," I answered, smiling. "That's dedication."
"Well, he's only got one dad--me--so, I figured I better make the most of my time with him," He answered.
Boom.
There it was.
He's only got one dad.
I think my voice might have cracked in the ensuing conversation and scheduling him. My heart sank a little in my chest. As we parted, he shook my hand and I watched him put his arm around his son and walk out the door.
I sat at my desk and thought about the negative connotation that is sometimes associated with dads (and moms) who stand by the sidelines cheering their children on through sports. Some more wildly than others, but, nonetheless, they are there supporting their children. I've never understood the negative side to the argument--even if the parent is being belligerent.
There they stand.
Fathers proud of their children.
But, I guess that comes from my side of the story. I was the girl who played soccer with no father at my sidelines. I had no cheering squad. I walked myself to practice each night and walked myself home. I got myself to games and made sure I showed up on time. I had no one telling me to show up, guiding my game, or kicking a soccer ball on the weekends, heck, I didn't even have a ride. I remember once making the winning goal, a lucky kick, I might add. My entire team rushed to my side, the coach giving me a triumphant high-five and still I walked home that day, alone.
[Though, I might add, I was being raised by a single mother who worked her butt off to provide for us, or else, I believe she would've showed up to more games.]
I'd settle for any dad showing up to my games.
The Soccer Dad.
He reminded me of two very important facts.
#1 I am the independent, successful, and solid woman I am today because I had no father to push me. I had to push myself.
#2 There are still amazing fathers out there (I'm married to one of them!) who take the task of fathering and raise it to another level.
So, to you, soccer dad, I cheer you and all parents like you. Keep showing up. Keep cheering your kids on. Keep smiling. Keep being on the sidelines of their lives, either in sports or in education or in music or in whatever life throws at them.
They need you.
Thanks for the reminder, Soccer Dad.
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