It was our usual routine that Saturday morning. We got up at 7am, let the kids go wild on the bed before we got ourselves to the dining table for breakfast together. Some reminders and some gentle threats (haha!) later that we needed to leave on time. After the usual last minute rush and ushering the kids out the door, we head over to the stadium. Cool beans, it’s football practice time!
CocoJr#1 has been at football practice for 1.5 years now. He’s not a natural at football, we could tell as CocoJr#2 shows real flair even at 1.5 years. We kept him in practice sessions though, we believe in organised team sports and the benefits it brings. He can learn teamwork, resilience and some discipline.
When we first started football practice 1.5 years ago, he didn’t enjoy it one bit. He used to cry to have to go. 2-3 sessions after, he would go willingly. We tried to coach him in the evenings as well on kicking, on strategy, on just simply going for the ball.
He certainly improved. However 1.5 years later, on that very morning as I observed him play, I was somewhat annoyed. He still wasn’t paying attention. He still wasn’t going for the ball. He kicks the ball with a superhero stance, full of style and with a minute’s pause to hold that post kick stance. Now I know that it may not be his sport, I fully am aware of what his passion is. I know my baby boy, but I was still annoyed as I believe with practice and with the mentality of never giving up, a person can do wonders.
There I sat watching him from the sidelines and having these thoughts go through my mind, when I saw him walk over to the other team’s practice that was going on beside his. I thought “Oh my, is he confused with the boundaries? Did he think that was his team?” and I was about to yell out and motion him back to his team. I was a wee bit annoyed still with his lack of progress in the last few months.
Then I witnessed the most amazing scene. I was enlightened and I was shamed and I had tears rolling down my cheek.
A boy from the other team that was practicing beside my son’s team was kneeled over on one knee. Perhaps he had hurt himself, it wasn’t immediately apparent. CocoJr#1 must have seen this, as he walked over to the boy and held out his hand to help him stand up, then simply walked back to his team. There was no exchange of words, there was no existing friendship as I could tell.
This was compassion, this was empathy, this was kindness, this was a pure heart. This was my baby boy who can’t play football to save his life. This was me being severely and silently admonished for focusing on what he was not good at versus what I had already known all along, that my boy has a very high E.Q. and the kindest heart I know.
So what if he can’t play football? He’s got a heart of gold and that I won’t trade for anything else. Thank you, dear son, for a lesson I will never forget.
