Today my son had his soccer tournament. He's 8. Most of the time, the kids are chasing the ball for a bit, and then standing waiting for it to come to them. It's quite comical to watch, really. Over the past few weeks, I've seen such improvement in our team. I've seen the kids grow with each other, become great team players. I've seen fantastic passes, great defense, I've seen them overcome frustration when they played a stacked team, over and over again. This one team, the dreaded yellow team, was rumoured to have a few 11 year old boys on the team. This team is the under 9. NINE. but, because some kids want to play with their friends, they're allowed on the team. Our team was killed by the yellow kids more than once, and boy were they getting frustrated. Defeated. Saddened. At one point my son said he didn't want to play soccer again. It didn't continue to be fun for him. How could it when all you do is get beat up by the opposite team.
Well, last Thursday night, a fire lit under their little feet. They lost again to that yellow team, but they found something better. They found they had courage, drive, will. They didn't give up. My son is a bigger kid. He learned he could play great defense, and charge the kids coming at him and every time he won, got the ball from that kid that was coming at him. He felt powerful. He felt important.
Today, during the tournament, they won one game and lost their other. It's the end of the outdoor season, but my son has excitedly asked to be signed up for indoor soccer again this fall/winter. I have a feeling in my gut he could become great. He asked me if he could be a professional soccer player, and when I said he could be anything in the world, he said "well, when I'm a professional soccer player and I'm playing all over the world, I will get you tickets for free so you can come and watch me." God I love him.
I wouldn't miss it for the world!
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