Me, Her, the Boy and a Dog
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My boy played his first soccer game today. The kids played really hard, but were overmatched and lost 6-1. They only had seven players to the other team’s eight, so they were already at a disadvantage because they were a man down and had no subs.
I’m proud of my boy for 1) playing hard 2) not getting frustrated (see previous post) 3) for getting right back up when he got knocked down 4) and supporting his teammates when the made good plays.
Sure, the other team had a lot better players who looked like they were 12, but the kids didn’t give up. Trailing 6-0 in the fourth quarter, my boy and his fellow forwards pushed the ball up the field and after a hard shot on goal by my boy, the rebound came out to his teammate who buried it in the back of the net. Shutout avoided and the team celebrated in grand fashion. I probably cheered the loudest!
His first comment after a lot of “attaboys” from his fan club was, “Yeah, but we didn’t win.” I asked him one simple question, “Buddy, did you play your hardest?” He said, “Yes.” I told him, “That’s all you can do, buddy.”
Note: He asked for No. 5 because he wanted to be Tyrod Taylor.
