Soccer

Yesterday marked the end of the soccer season for the Highlanders' JV team.  Toward the end of the first half, a cold and windy rain blew in, somewhat unexpectedly.  Those moments always make lasting impressions on players -- like playing golf in perfect weather v. playing it in Ireland in a . . . cold and windy rain.

I hope that my wonderful daughter, Kiersten, knows what a delight it was for me to watch her play all these years.  To me (and, of course, I am biased), she plays an elegant brand of soccer at this point.  She has good first touches and she is pinpoint accurate on passes.

What I also want her to know is that she is the reason that I now do love watching this sport.  By watching her play from a small child to a near-adult, I've grown to appreciate the finer aspects of the sport.  Every World Cup year, someone inevitably writes a sports column somewhere calling soccer "the beautiful game."  When it is played well, I get that characterization.  And it has been one of my true pleasures to watch her grow -- from playing at younger levels to playing what, by this time, truly is a more beautiful game than I had ever envisioned.

All sports have their rhythm, their cadence, their music.  It took me awhile to understand soccer's beat; but now that I do, I can honestly say that I will miss it.