I Before U
Pro this, pro that. “You gotta go pro if you wanna have a good life song.” Words I used to hear every time I got dropped off at my U13 soccer practices, which was every day, six days a week, year round… Seems like I’d remember that after the first 200 times I was told, but my dad didn’t think so; and if that wasn’t enough, after the games, speeches would come next.
“Pass the ball back, then open up so you can see the field. Then create space and lay it off for the give and go. Once you got the ball from the give and go. get in front of the defender. If he fouls we all know its an automatic red followed by a PK.”
This continued until who knows when. I always wondered how long he kept talking after I had fallen asleep. The two hour ride back from Portland seemed like a road trip. I’d node my head until the nod turned into a deep sleep. My dad probably didn’t even notice. Eventually the hard work did pay off. Only kid from Eugene to make the Oregon state team. Proud parents made for happy times. I actually liked my dad being so into it, because it showed he actually cared. The part I didn’t like came after. Happy times come to an end, unless you’re a retired old dude playing golf year round in Mexico; which I wasn’t.
I eventually made it to regionals and that’s where it sort of went down hill. On the first day my heel started bothering me so much during the first hour; it felt like needles were poking up my foot every time I took a step. I ended up having to limp my way over to the nurse’s tent. Iced all night and it never did get better. A sad dad arrived later that day and took me back to Eugene. I couldn’t tell if I was more disappointed or if he was. No words were exchanged on the ride back.
Eventually we made it to Slocum, where they broke the news to me. Because of so much over use of my feet, my two growth plates were rubbing up against each other, causing immense pain. ‘Sever’s disease’ is what it was called. Not really a disease, but more like shin splints in your heel. On went the cast for six months. A week before going back to get it taken off, I was so eager to play I literally sawed it off myself so I could go back and play. I got there and everything was fine, until a week went by and the pain got even worse. I rested and rested, but it never really felt great. I could play a little, but after a while it went back to hurting again. After a year or so, I gave up on it and tried something new.
Baseball became my new passion. Sadly it was never a passion anyone had in my family. My dad never went to the games, and when he did, he never cheered or really cared much. It didn’t bother me, though. I had fun doing it, and after putting in enough work I became a varsity starter as a freshman. It took me until then to realize that it was my life and my choices. I got to pick what I wanted to do and what I wanted to be. I let my dad know that after I quit soccer. I told him I wasn’t him and that life didn’t go my way, so I chose something else that made me just as happy. Getting those words out was like, spitting out that bad tasting sunflower seed you had stuck in your mouth all game. He understood and never bothered me about trying to go back and play. Instead he told me to work hard at what I loved and if I did, things would always fall into place.