Three years ago, when my then-6-year-old son, Jake, expressed interest in playing soccer, I felt a wave of anxiety. I knew this moment was coming; after all, his friends were all engaged in sports, and their fathers were often involved too. I was frequently the odd one out. Unlike many men, I’ve never been particularly drawn to playing or watching sports. There are several reasons for this. For one, I lack good hand-eye coordination. I’m also on the shorter side, stocky, and not exactly built for speed.
However, the most significant reason lies in my childhood. My father left when I was young, and while most boys talked about their fathers teaching them the game, I found myself feeling excluded. Sports always served as a reminder of my absence—a father to share those experiences with.
Despite my lack of interest in sports, I recognize their value to many men. Because I never connected with them, forming friendships with other men has been challenging. This is particularly ironic considering I work for a Division I athletics program, where I often find myself reminding athletes to keep up with their studies. This career path was a bit of an accident for me.
In short, my relationship with sports has always been complex. So when Jake asked to play soccer, I had to set aside my feelings and ensure he didn’t feel like an outsider, as I often did. I wanted him to have a sense of belonging. Many parents find themselves grappling with the conflict between their own dislikes (or fears) and their children’s interests. Sometimes it’s as trivial as enduring a child’s YouTube obsession, other times, it’s a musical instrument that drives them nuts. In my case, it brought up memories of a troubled childhood.
Reluctantly, I enrolled Jake in soccer, secretly wishing that he would dislike it and quit. I was mistaken. Not only did he enjoy playing, but he also wanted me to join him. That first summer, we spent countless hours on a small patch of grass near our apartment, kicking a soccer ball around. I had no soccer experience—other than the fact that I couldn’t use my hands—and thankfully, Jake didn’t either.
It felt like we were discovering the game together. For the first time, I wasn’t haunted by memories of my father’s absence during sports; I was focused on my son. I made it a point to attend every practice and game, motivated by two things: my desire to support him and my eagerness to learn enough to actively participate.
One evening at a nearby park, while passing the ball back and forth, I noticed that Jake always stopped the ball before kicking it. I advised him to run at it and kick while in motion. This wasn’t wisdom gleaned from years of soccer experience; it just seemed logical to me. We practiced this technique for about an hour until he finally got it. When he did, he looked at me with admiration as if I were a soccer expert, and in that moment, I felt a connection that I had longed for as a child.
During his next game, Jake used that kicking technique to score his first goal. My heart swelled with pride. As he ran across the field, the first thing he did was look back at me and smile, as if to say, “Look, Dad! We did it together!”
Now, Jake is 9 years old. He has played three seasons of soccer and one season of basketball, and I’ve had to learn how to dribble and shoot. Most Sundays, we are out in the front yard, enjoying basketball together, laughing, and creating memories that I had always wished for. In those moments, I cherish the father-son bond that had eluded me during my upbringing.
I doubt Jake knows the depth of my past feelings toward sports; I’ve never shared my childhood struggles with him. I understand that soon enough, he will surpass my abilities in soccer and basketball, but for now, he sees me as the best player around. He never says it, but I notice the way he looks at me while I fumble around our driveway. In many ways, I admire him for allowing me to experience the connection I’ve always missed.
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In summary, my journey from disinterest in sports to actively participating in my son’s athletic life has been transformative. It has allowed me to forge a connection with him that I had always yearned for as a child. This experience has granted me a second chance at those cherished father-son moments I once thought were lost.