This is an excerpt from a book I’m writing titled Free the Sorrow: A Grieving Father Breaks the Death Grip of Anger.
Back in 1996 and 1997, I was probably in the best shape I’ve ever been. I was playing midfielder on a coed soccer team, getting 50 minutes of playing time per 60-minute game. Andrew, 13, came with me to watch me play, a poetic turnabout. I wanted his advice. I typically played on the left side, and he was a left-side/left-footed attacker.
Well into the game, I was running for the ball. An opposing player chased, coming in from my right side at right angles to my trajectory. I thought I had an edge on him but we collided at full speed just as I made contact with the ball. He went flying, but I kept running. Then came the whistle. The ref yellow-carded me.
Even the opposing player told me later it was a fair play, but my coach subbed me out, and I went over to the bench.
Andrew was grinning ear to ear. “Nice play.”
“Did you see it?”
“Yeah, the ref over-reacted, but the way that guy flew, I’m not surprised.”
“Well, I’m surprised. I hardly felt it.”
Andrew looked at me like he usually did when he was about to say “you are such a dork,” which was fairly often.
“You’re three times bigger than he is, what do you mean you’re surprised?”
“What? You think I’m three times bigger than he is?”
I looked at the guy. He was what I judged to be above-average height but not tall, I would have guessed 5-10, and of medium build. Yeah, I was probably bigger than him, but not by much. I was 5-11-plus, and 175 pounds.
I turned back to Andrew. “OK, maybe I’m a bit bigger than him, but not that much.”
I got the look again.
“Who out there do you think is exactly your size?”
I scanned the field, and picked out one of my teammates.
“What? That guy’s tiny compared to you. What is with you? I’ll tell you who’s your size, their goalie over there.”
He had powerful legs and broad shoulders, and honestly I would have guessed he was 6-1, and 190 or 200 pounds.
“Him? Really?”
“No shit, Sherlock.”
“Hey…”
“Sorry, but really, hello, that’s who you look like out there.”
After the game, all the players did the ritual good-game-high-five walk. When I passed the other team’s goalie, I could see that Andrew was right.
It’s still hard to believe he hadn’t exaggerated.