The air dry, the sun strong, and our day of watching our little kids run around a field  had finished. Pierson at this time wasn't a very good soccer player, but I really didn't care.  Frequently he would chase the pack and most of the time he wasn't part of any game we were watching, yet after every game he talked about how much fun he had, and at 7 years old that's all that mattered. This day he had followed his mom to the car, and while I was packing up I saw a dad yelling at his kid in front of everyone. He was yelling because his kid had let the team down by not giving his 110 percent at the ripe age of 7. "YOU DON'T EVER ACT LIKE THAT IN A GAME!!! WHEN YOU COME TO PLAY YOU PLAY!! OTHERWISE YOU MIGHT HAS WELL SIT ON THE BENCH!!! I DON'T........" and his yelling morphed into an inaudible angry rumble as I walked away with my fists clenched  and telling myself that it wasn't my place to get get involved. 

A year later I started playing soccer myself. I could barely kick the ball, had no control, and had no idea about any tactics about the game. Suddenly my perspective on what these kids were doing changed. Soccer was about honor, joy, heart and spirit.  I wanted to know the sport and to use it as a means to bond with my kid. Today, three years later, even with a healing scar on my right hand from where two screws were placed to stabilize the bones from a soccer accident, I can't wait until I can play again. I've gotten a few hat tricks, can rainbow the ball,  nutmeg anyone who dares to  face me with open legs, am playing in the top league indoors for my age, play outdoors for the full 90, and love every minute of it. Watch the Premier League in England, Italian Serie A, Spanish Primera, La Ligue France,  and MLS (American),  every week-end and some week days thanks to Fox Soccer channel and GOL TV. Own some great jerseys, and venture to Columbus in the summer to watch the Crew sometimes make miracles happen. When it's raining, and the store is closed, and Pierson and I aren't playing down on our basement court, we're playing  FIFA 06 on Xbox.  Pierson sometimes calls me to try and get me to close the store early to go kick the ball and sometimes he's successful. Soccer has become a rather consuming past time, but in it's consumption it's made not just me a good player, but  a better dad. My kid who wouldn't touch the ball for the first several years now rarely loses a battle. He is the driving force behind this obsession, he taught me a few things or two, and it's through soccer that we actually get to spend time together and learn about each other. The day he wants to take up something else might be a bit sad but it'll give me and him the chance to learn something else, and that's okay. But for now all he wants to do is play soccer.

That dad I wanted to say something to three years ago, eventually, somehow (I think as part of God's plan to teach me how to bite my lip harder though it's not working) became a coach for Pierson's team. He is not obsessed with the game of soccer. He was a football player (which explains why he's so good at yelling).  I know when USA beat Mexico 2-0 in the World cup qualifiers he was busy during Pierson's practice talking about the Buckeyes. When he kicks the ball he always kicks it with his toe. He has no idea how to play the game,  no concept of tactics, refuses to use the words that soccer coaches use, and when he's out on the field playing with the kids it's not uncommon to watch him run over a kid. He's the coach because his son also loves the game, and the best way to get your kid playing time is to either kiss the coach's behind or be the coach.  Lately the majority of the parents of the kids on the team have been upset with his total lack of knowledge about soccer, his incessant yelling of stupid words like "Touch it!"  asked my wife to deliver the news that they wanted a better coach. I thought that this would be bad because the coach is the "shoot the messenger" kind of guy and Pierson would be the one who would be punished. She did what the coach had asked her to do, be team mom answer questions, and deliver parent requests to his royal highness. Pierson who used to be in the top of the playtime now is in the bottom. The messenger and the offspring get shot.

Moral: When someone is in the park beating on their kid, kick their ass until the are unrecognizable and they pee on themselves at the thought of being around another human. That way you don't have to deal with them until the next life, when hopefully he's the slug you pour salt on..

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