Day one of being a sports DAD

As a kid, having my dad in the dugout with me during games was awesome.  We didnt chatter during the game because he was my coach and that would be weird.  Instead he would just coach me...in spanish...and only spanish.  it would always start with "mijo..." and i would go out there with visions of MLB glory and try to do what he told me.  I always knew he was going to be the toughest coach and the most supportive and it was cool.  What i never gave any thought to, or spent any time on was what the parents in the crowd were doing.  I knew my mom was out there somewhere and that my sister, forced to come to my game, was sitting there wondering what was so great about this stupid ass game, but I never cared.  My dad would always tell me watch the game.  Pay attention to the game.  It was always about the game on the field, the chatter in the clubhouse and everything else was there to be ignored.  (personal note: the announcer announcing my name for the first time was kinda hard to ignore because it was so cool!).  As I grew up this never left me.  My family will come to games now and my Bells and awesome lilMAN will sit there and i focus on the game as they ....well i have no idea what they do except the occasional wave of support.  It is not because I don't appreciate them, but because that is what I do.  FOCUS ON THE GAME.  Watch how the fielders are set up.  Is the RF sleeping?  Is the 3B too far back?  What chant are we going to use to throw this pitcher off his game?!?!

Now i am on the other side of the metal fence that separates the game from the spectators.  I am not the coach or even the volunteer.  I am the dad that got his son ready and told him to run to practice because he was already late, and "you can't be late".  I sat as close as I could to hear the coach talk, but that got weird.  I am not the coach, so I had to move away.  I met parents, I talked to other coaches, and i glad handed so much my political friends would be proud of me.  It was great watching my boy opening up, running, and having a great time.  I just stood there watching him and enjoying it. Then i wanted to tell him to get to that passing lane.  I wanted him to show off his incredible speed and powerful left leg.  i wanted him to thread passes and play 'D' like the little monster he turns into when he wants the ball.  Instead I spent the time shutting up, talking about other people's dates and glad handing!  Twice, the dam broke and I gave some dumb obvious instructions and twice I had to shut the hell up embarrassed because I didn't want to be that dad.

I remember when my dad hung up his spikes to be my coach.  He wasn't even 30 yet, and he waved goodbye to Harrison Park and talking shit with his teammates.  I remember no longer watching him play, but him watching me play and coaching his boy on the game we loved.  We sat in those dugouts and practiced on those dirt fields and it was awesome!  I never knew how my mom felt until now.  She watched a sport she knew nothing about and kept it pretty cool while doing it.  If you know my mom, you know it had to be hard not to yell at umps and opposing players!  Now it is my turn to get my player ready and tell him how important it is that he is on time.  Tell him to focus on the game.  Listen to your coach, talk to your teammates and be a part of a team.  My responsibilities are to get my folding chair, the water bottles, and orange slices and join my fellow parents straining to keep it cool.  This is day one...oh man this is going to be a fun ride!


-iz3y!
Soccer DAD!