On the subject of Horses and Little Wonders

let it go, 
let it roll right off your shoulder 
don't you know 
the hardest part is over 
let it in, 
let your clarity define you 
in the end 
we will only just remember how it feels 

our lives are made 
in these small hours 
these little wonders, 
these twists & turns of fate 
time falls away, 
but these small hours, 
these small hours still remain 

      - "Little Wonders" by Rob Thomas

The matter could have gone south very quickly. Thankfully, he chose to get back on the horse.

Sounds like a line from some novel about the old West. Our hero - the brave sheriff who needed to save the town.

Our story, though, takes place on a rainy Saturday morning, not on the range, but rather the pitch. The hero is not the law, he's my son.

Flashback to about a year ago. A boy of eight put in goal for the second game of a doubleheader. The rain was pouring in Seattle. The kids were cold and wet and tired of playing. All except one, who seemed ready to play two more. In goal, dressed in green, covered in the brown of the mud was my guy. This is not a slam on the other kids. To their defense, the day was miserable. 

I did not witness this adventure. Instead, I was at work, which sadly makes me miss most of his games. The tales of this performance came from everyone else - his coaches, fellow parents, my wife. They said as everyone began to give up, he just got better.

Two years earlier, his first in the game of soccer, he had a game where he had a head to head collision with another player and was knocked silly. He had a knot on his head the size of a golf ball. He was crying. However, he was not sobbing from the pain. He wanted to keep playing and we were telling him no. Finally his coach came over and said, "Drew, do you want to play? Excitedly, he charged back into the game and proceeded to have his best game.

Two weeks ago, I received a text at work. The text was from a fellow Tornado dad. It read "Tornado 16-1. Great Game." My first thought was that my son must have had a wonderful game in goal, and maybe he might have scored a goal or two.

The story when I got a call was much different. Drew did not play. He was ready to go into the game when he was overcome with fear. Was it being counted on? Was it that he was fearful of re-injuring an arm that had been broken earlier in the year, then kicked one week before the game? There were no answers... just a crying and shuddering boy on the sideline watching his teammates have the game of their lives.

I was angry. Then the feeling turned to sadness. How could this boy who was like a superball - one that always bounces back, become the cowardly sheriff?

Saturday morning - a 9 AM game, and for the Tornado - a team of tired faces and a few missing players. I was able to make it to the game as it was a rare off weekend.

Drew stood there as the coach put it simply. "Drew, your my goalie today. Get ready." Drew seemed ready. Gone was the anxiety of the week before, or so we thought.

He had a phenomenal first half against the best team in the league. The Tornado scored the first goal, then gave up one on a funky ricochet. The half was nearly over, when Drew dove to make a save. He covered up the ball, but at the same time, the opposing striker kept going and kicked him right in the nose. Everyone stopped in trepidation. Drew stood up and began sobbing. I was on the phone giving my fellow Tornado Dad the score and report when I dropped the phone and asked the referee if I could enter the field. Drew collapsed into my arms. He was done, and said as much.

Halftime was whistled and the teams came to the sideline. I tried to encourage him as his nose was not broken. He was a little stunned, but I thought he could go. Instead, he kept crying and said he could not. As the team took the field for the second half, the whistle blew to start the game again. The coach yelled to the ref... hold on... we need our goalie. He looked to Drew and said, "I know you can do this."

Still sobbing, but not crying, a shaken Drew took the field. Within a minute or two, the other team scored the go ahead goal. Drew could not have stopped it as it was a great shot. 

The rain stopped... and so did the tears. Somehow, someway, my guy decided that it was time to play again. And play he did. Diving save left. Diving save right. Stop and pass to the midfielder.

The sounds in the air resonated. "Way to go, Drew!"

"Wow, Drew"

"Drew, you're my hero!"

None of these words were from his mom or me... the crowd was getting behind him. Yes, I was cheering and jumping up and down, but the words around me were touching me. My son, the hero? Suddenly, I was the one quietly crying.

You might think this tome would end with his team winning and Drew being carried off the field. This ain't Hollywood.

Drew's team lost 4-2, but his performance, his courage, was one for the ages. One week after an unexplainable act of anxiety, he stepped up and showed true courage in the face of adversity.

As he came off the field with a grin on his face, he came straight to me. I hugged him vigorously and quietly said, "I have never been so proud of you."

Drew got back up on the horse.

I don't know what this will mean for his later life, but I have a feeling that someday he will look back on this day and know that something was indeed special.

I hope that one day he will be on a big field, like in high school, or college, and my son the goalie is having another day for the ages. It's any Dad's dream. But I will always remember the day that Drew got back up on the horse, and showed his Dad that at least one of the lessons taught, was indeed learned.

With all the challenges that life has presented me with, I have always tried to recover from the adversity. I know that Drew watched me go through each and every one of them since he has been on this earth. He has seen me deal with the death of my Dad, the challenges of a sister with challenges, and a daughter with her own mountain to climb. 

And in some ways, Drew is the embodiment of recovering from adversity. He was the subject of my last ever conversation with my own Mom. The particular thing we were discussing... the fact that Drew's initials would be the same as my Mom's. "I have a whole bunch of towels just waiting for him," she laughed. Just a few days later, a stroke took her away from me. Two weeks later, Drew was born... named for his grandmother, Drucie.

On this day however, he was the inspiration. A Little Wonder.

Good night, son.

Yours truly,

Johnny Blogger.