Passing Seasons

I tend to mark the passing of time with the start and end of something clearly defined: A school year, a college semester, a job, a travel vacation, a living situation or a kids' sports season. While experiencing those parts of life I have enjoyed the most, I would pause at times to concentrate deeply in an attempt to burn the memory in all its vividness upon my mind. I did this during overnight camp, college, and each of my coaching seasons. I also did it during the fall sports season of my eighth grade year.

Last weekend, both Philip and Chloe closed out their fall soccer seasons. On Saturday afternoon Philip’s team The Jokers was upstairs and Chloe’s team The Heartbreakers was downstairs at the same local pizzeria celebrating the end of a great season. With Philip being in the eighth grade, I have been thinking back to that time in my own life often. But when I reconnected with Ken online ten days ago, suddenly memories of my eighth grade fall football season came into greater focus.

Growing up with a single mom who was intimidated by most married parents, I spent my pre-adolescence uninvolved in kids’ sports. That ended abruptly when I went to a private school that required participation in after-school activities. I had a lot of catching up to do, but in the fall of eighth grade I heard words that meant more to me back at that time than perhaps anything.

“Great job, Scott! You’re our starting Left Tackle,” the coach pronounced with a shout during a practice before our first game. I’d just executed the fast pull behind the line and out in front of the ball carrying halfback on a quick pitch left to collide hard with the first defender to threaten our drive up field. With it, my coach was convinced he could count on me, and I wasn't going to let him down.

Starting was an honor that until then had eluded me. I was a below average athlete and it took significant effort both to gain my starting position and to keep it. Having my friend Ken as starting Right Tackle made the experience all the more enjoyable. I developed a deeper respect for each of my teammates and what it took for them to execute their various roles. That summer at my overnight sailing camp, I skippered a sailboat race for the first time and then went on to skipper in enough races to place in five. Stashed away somewhere, I still have my football trophies, five sailing pennants (a first, three seconds and a third) and virtually every scholastic award I ever earned.

For the kid who never plays, it is an achievement to play. For the kid who has never touched the ball, it is an achievement to touch the ball. For the kid who has never been on the first string, it is an achievement to make the first string. For the kid who has never scored, it is an achievement to score. And on it goes. Each new level of victory in life is enjoyed and celebrated. For nearly every kid, sports provide an especially good venue to experience victories worth remembering. But sports are not the only venue. Philip has a first place trophy from a chess tournament, and Chloe has DVDs from her ballet performances.

The 2008 fall soccer season is over. In a few weeks, I will begin coaching Chloe’s first season of basketball, and Philip will begin his fourth season of Lacrosse. My hope for the coming season is that Chloe and Philip will each enjoy at least one small victory, and that they and I will each enjoy at least one experience to mark the season with a great memory.