In an attempt to shake off the writer's block I've been afflicted with, I'm going back to my unfinished drafts to post some of the thoughts that have been on my mind over the last 2 years. I'll call these the 'Draft Revisited' series.
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Draft Revisited #1:
My father had lived a life that was filled with as many crazy stories by the time he was in his mid-twenties. I would argue he had more unusual life experiences by that age than most "normal" people who live to the ripe old age of 85. One thing that he would occasionally leak out in his recollection of his childhood was how he was once recruited to play for the national team of his country of birth, Colombia.
As I recall the story, my father was in his pre-teens (perhaps early teen years) when a stranger saw him playing soccer (presumably with his friends, he was never specific about this part). The stranger found out a little more about this kid who showed some skill on the field. It turns out he was a scout for the Colombian national soccer team. He spoke to my dad and praised his play. He expressed a desire in having my dad try out for the national team.
The chance to play for the national team represented new opportunities for my dad. For starters, playing for the national team is an accomplishment that many take pride in. To represent your country is a tremendous honor but also an amazing personal accomplishment since only the best of the best can say they reached that level. Furthermore, he could now have the possibility to travel outside of Bogota... to travel away from the relative poverty he lived in. Not just to travel to other parts of the country but the world! His wanderlust was deeply rooted in him even at such a young age. Most importantly, if the team was good enough, he could end up playing on the largest soccer stage of them all: the World Cup.
Every boy who plays sports will inevitably fantasize about playing in the championship game: throwing the winning touchdown pass as time expires in the Super Bowl; hitting a grand slam in the bottom of the 9th to win the World Series; making the fadeaway jumper at the buzzer to win game 7 of the NBA Finals. My father loved playing soccer and knew he was good at it. The prospect of playing in the World Cup was an intoxicating dream. Simply put, to have this chance to realize this boyhood dream is something that doesn't present itself every day (pardon the hackneyed cliché).
My dad was confident that his family would support the potential realization of this dream. The scout visited my dad's house to speak to my grandparents. He attempted to sell my grandfather on the prospects of having my dad train and eventually play for the national team.
I didn't personally know my grandfather very well. Nevertheless, I have the impression - from stories told by my dad and my aunts/uncles - that he was a stern man. For better or worse, he didn't take crap from anyone. Which, by extension, also meant he could be extremely obstinate and always knew what was "best" for his family. My grandfather told the scout, in no uncertain terms, that he was not going to allow his son to be taken from his home just to play soccer.
His rationale was sound. There was no guarantee that my father would end up playing for the national team. He was just being given the opportunity to make it. The scout tried to convince my grandfather but ultimately he moved on to the next prospect on some other playground. My father was crushed. He hated my grandfather for a while. He carried the bitterness from that disappointing moment with him for his entire life (as far as I know he is still salty about it).
Interestingly, he had a chance to allow his son (me) to play in organized sports (baseball). He turned it down since he knew what was "best" for his child. I'm not trying to imply that I was going to play for the U.S. national team in the Olympics. It was just a Little League team that I wanted to try out for. My dad didn't allow me to play and pursue my childhood dream. His explanation was that many coaches would fondle - even rape - boys on these teams and he didn't want to expose me to that.
I don't feel his rationale was as sound as my grandfather's. Then again, I could just be speaking from my biased perspective because I was denied my chance. Yet, in hindsight, all I can think about is how much of a hypocrite my dad was for not letting me try out.
Luckily for him, I didn't hear my dad's soccer story until years after my Little League disappointment. Had I known that story when I wanted to try out, I would've thrown it in his face and probably could have guilted him into giving me a chance.
Generally, the takeaway from my experiences with my father is to, essentially, do the opposite of what he did. If I want to be a good father, a good husband, a good person, I need to use him as my model of what NOT to do. I hope I can recall my disappointment of not playing Little League and his of not being able to try out for the soccer team when the day comes for my children to try something they're passionate about (whether it's sports-related or not)
*sigh* Thanks for listening. Until next time, faithful reader......
As I recall the story, my father was in his pre-teens (perhaps early teen years) when a stranger saw him playing soccer (presumably with his friends, he was never specific about this part). The stranger found out a little more about this kid who showed some skill on the field. It turns out he was a scout for the Colombian national soccer team. He spoke to my dad and praised his play. He expressed a desire in having my dad try out for the national team.
The chance to play for the national team represented new opportunities for my dad. For starters, playing for the national team is an accomplishment that many take pride in. To represent your country is a tremendous honor but also an amazing personal accomplishment since only the best of the best can say they reached that level. Furthermore, he could now have the possibility to travel outside of Bogota... to travel away from the relative poverty he lived in. Not just to travel to other parts of the country but the world! His wanderlust was deeply rooted in him even at such a young age. Most importantly, if the team was good enough, he could end up playing on the largest soccer stage of them all: the World Cup.
Every boy who plays sports will inevitably fantasize about playing in the championship game: throwing the winning touchdown pass as time expires in the Super Bowl; hitting a grand slam in the bottom of the 9th to win the World Series; making the fadeaway jumper at the buzzer to win game 7 of the NBA Finals. My father loved playing soccer and knew he was good at it. The prospect of playing in the World Cup was an intoxicating dream. Simply put, to have this chance to realize this boyhood dream is something that doesn't present itself every day (pardon the hackneyed cliché).
My dad was confident that his family would support the potential realization of this dream. The scout visited my dad's house to speak to my grandparents. He attempted to sell my grandfather on the prospects of having my dad train and eventually play for the national team.
I didn't personally know my grandfather very well. Nevertheless, I have the impression - from stories told by my dad and my aunts/uncles - that he was a stern man. For better or worse, he didn't take crap from anyone. Which, by extension, also meant he could be extremely obstinate and always knew what was "best" for his family. My grandfather told the scout, in no uncertain terms, that he was not going to allow his son to be taken from his home just to play soccer.
His rationale was sound. There was no guarantee that my father would end up playing for the national team. He was just being given the opportunity to make it. The scout tried to convince my grandfather but ultimately he moved on to the next prospect on some other playground. My father was crushed. He hated my grandfather for a while. He carried the bitterness from that disappointing moment with him for his entire life (as far as I know he is still salty about it).
Interestingly, he had a chance to allow his son (me) to play in organized sports (baseball). He turned it down since he knew what was "best" for his child. I'm not trying to imply that I was going to play for the U.S. national team in the Olympics. It was just a Little League team that I wanted to try out for. My dad didn't allow me to play and pursue my childhood dream. His explanation was that many coaches would fondle - even rape - boys on these teams and he didn't want to expose me to that.
I don't feel his rationale was as sound as my grandfather's. Then again, I could just be speaking from my biased perspective because I was denied my chance. Yet, in hindsight, all I can think about is how much of a hypocrite my dad was for not letting me try out.
Luckily for him, I didn't hear my dad's soccer story until years after my Little League disappointment. Had I known that story when I wanted to try out, I would've thrown it in his face and probably could have guilted him into giving me a chance.
Generally, the takeaway from my experiences with my father is to, essentially, do the opposite of what he did. If I want to be a good father, a good husband, a good person, I need to use him as my model of what NOT to do. I hope I can recall my disappointment of not playing Little League and his of not being able to try out for the soccer team when the day comes for my children to try something they're passionate about (whether it's sports-related or not)
*sigh* Thanks for listening. Until next time, faithful reader......
