THE END

Today, Spain crashed out of the World Cup. They did not go out with a bang, but rather with a whimper. I know I will fail to capture how their departure makes me feel, but I will try anyway.

I first came to truly love the game of football four years ago after watching the Spanish national team play in the World Cup 2010 in South Africa. Spain's style was truly a revelation and unlike anything I had seen before.

Spain did not boot the ball down the field and hope for the best like so many other teams I had watched before. Rather, they treated the ball like a valued possession and used quick, short, accurate passes to magically work the ball up the field. Every player was interchangeable, and every moment was so precise. It was impossible to defend against them because they played as a unit. It was also impossible not to marvel at their style of play because of its fluidity and effectiveness.

If I fell in love with football through Spain at the World Cup, that courtship continued with FC Barcelona. Indeed, more than one half of Spain's players in 2010 came from Barca. After the World Cup, I began to follow Barca and could easily appreciate the club's influence on the national team. Both teams loved to play with the ball. Both teams loved to involve every player. Both teams enjoyed making something beautiful on the pitch.

However, in recent years, both Spain and Barca have declined from their peaks. Their key players are older and more tired, and they have given everything to club and country in the past six years. Indeed, the national team won the 2010 World Cup bookended by back to back European Championships in 2008 and 2012.

It is not the fall from the podiums that pangs me however. Rather, watching Spain play in this World Cup felt like a funeral because of their complete lack of effectiveness or execution. Yes, they lost to talented teams from the Netherlands and Chile, but Spain's imprecision was every bit as important for their elimination from Brazil. To see these players incapable of executing felt like sitting at the death bed of one's first love. It was painful, sorrowful, and shocking.

Rather than mourn the passing of this great generation of players, we should appreciate what all they have achieved and what they have given the world. In my opinion, no one ever played this game as well as they did. No one ever played it more beautifully. No one ever swept me off me feet the way Spain did. For each of us, there is only one first love. For me that will always be the not so young men of this great Spanish side who also starred for Barcelona- Andres Iniesta (shown above crying as he left the pitch today), Xavi Hernandez, Carles Puyol, David Villa, and Gerard Pique.

We do not owe them any sympathy tonight. What we owe them is gratitude and appreciation. I will not soon forget this first love...

A MAN WITHOUT A COUNTRY

Yesterday's New York Times Sunday magazine was devoted to the World Cup. In my opinion, the best article in that issue was about my favorite player, Lionel Messi, entitled, "The Burden of Being Messi." The author Jeff Himmelman captured the paradox of Messi - the best-loved footballer on the planet who cannot get any love in his home country of Argentina.

There are many reasons why Argentinians have never warmed up to Messi. These include: he left the country for Spain as a young boy; he has triumphed for his club Barca but has never won a major trophy for Argentina; that he is quiet and downright aloof compared to the country's first soccer god, Diego Maradona.

I hope Messi has a great tournament. I hope he scores lots of breathtaking goals. I hope he wins the Cup and silences all the doubters. Fundamentally, I hope he gets his country back. If not, both he and  Argentina will be the losers.

PASS IT ON!

I saw a very poignant video on the New York Times today called "Pass It On." It was about a man in the Democratic Republic of Congo who makes soccer balls out of trash and scraps for the young children in his village. These kids' lives have been disrupted by war an violence, but soccer is a refuge for them. The joy on their faces while they kicked their "trash" ball nearly brought tears to my eyes.

This video reminded me of a wonderful organization called One World Futbol that has created a nearly indestructible soccer ball. Every time you buy a ball throughout their site, One World donates a ball to someone in a developing country. You can even choose to simply donate balls without purchasing one for yourself. I donated two balls tonight, and I encourage you to do the same.

We in the West have so much, and we have so many reasons to be thankful. However, let us remember that we are more than citizens of our respective countries. We all belong to one world. Pass it on!

THE BIGGEST STAGE IN THE WORLD (CUP)

The 2014 World Cup begins in three days, and this spectacle is sure to captivate long-standing fans of the game. However, the World Cup also has a way of converting non-believers into die-hard soccer acolytes. I, myself, joined the fold of the soccer-obsessed during the last World Cup. Since then, Nicholas and Cate have also become quite the devotees of the beautiful game.

For new fans of the game, the World Cup is about much more than the world's best players giving their all on the field, or pitch. The World Cup is also about national identity, history, and triumphs and  failures of past Cups.

Pamela Druckerman, an American author living in Paris, captured the wonder that is the World Cup beautifully in a piece in the New York Times today entitled, "We are the World (Cup)." I could not help but appreciate the similarities between her children who have become soccer aficionados and my own children, especially Nicholas. Her children and mine are collecting stickers in the Panini sticker album (Note to the grandparents, this makes a great gift for a certain soccer-obsessed eight year-old).
Both her kids and mine seem to possess a messianic devotion to soccer trivia and history at such a young age.

Why shouldn't they be excited! The World Cup only comes around every four years, and each tournament is bigger and more popular than the last.  Regardless of one's station in life, race, religion, nationality, soccer is something we can all appreciate. What better way to spend one month than living this dream with players and fans, alike, from 32 lucky countries.

Let's hope that the next month is a memorable one for soccer. Let's hope that dreams come true for some deserving souls, especially if they are from Argentina. Let's hope that millions of new people come to appreciate all that is beautiful about this, the most beautiful of games.

INDEPENDENTS' DAY PART IV

Nicholas presented his Independent project last week. This was his fourth one at Arbor, and each one seems to be better than the last.

This year, he covered the city of Barcelona. We had gone there in November on a family trip, and he was clearly moved by the experience. 

To prepare for the presentation he read articles from the encyclopedia and several books. He decided to do both a poster board and make a book - sort of a guidebook about the city. Finally, he also made creme Catalana, a Catalan version of creme brûlée. 

Unsurprisingly, Nicholas did a wonderful job. You can see for yourself below.

I am blown away by this young man and look forward to many more of his accomplishments in the years to come.

Go Nicholas!

LEFT OUT

This week, Nicholas told us that one of his friends was planning a sleepover this weekend. According to Nicholas many of his closest friends from school were going to be in attendance. I expressed my concern that it was Wednesday, and I had not heard anything about the sleepover from the child's parents. Undeterred, Nicholas was on cloud nine about the prospect of spending time outside of school with his friends at this sleepover.

Today, I received the bad news in an email from Nicholas' teacher. He said that there had indeed been talk all week about the sleepover. However, the child's parents had to limit the number of kids who could sleep over, and Nicholas was not ultimately invited. He said Nicholas was quite upset upon hearing this and could not understand how he was left out. The teacher used this as a teaching moment to illustrate how Nicholas' feeling were hurt because plans that did not include everyone were openly discussed. He also used the moment to describe how the lack of an invitation did not mean that Nicholas was any less important to his friends. All the kids agreed that they would do better next time.

Tonight, I was not sure how to approach the discussion with Nicholas, so I just asked him about his day. I did not reveal to him that I was aware of the day's events.

Nicholas first response was that he was looking forward to the sleepover and being with his friends. I reminded him that we had not heard anything about this, and that I was not sure this was going to happen. At that point, he confessed that the sleepover was happening and that he was not invited. He said he could not understand how such a thing could have happened.

I told him that I had had many similar experiences and that his friends still loved him and enjoyed his company. I told him there would be many sleepovers and that we could even host one. He was not convinced.

Upon hearing the news from Nicholas teacher, I had also prophylactically contacted the parents of one of his soccer friends from the neighborhood. I confirmed that that boy could sleepover tomorrow night. When I told Nicholas this, he perked up, although I could still detect a sense of sadness in him.

I could not think of anything else to say without making the situation seem even more upsetting or awkward, so we moved on to story time. We also fit in some World Cup videos from YouTube, which made him quite happy. Then, he went to bed.

My number one goal in the world is to help my children be happy. This is not always possible, and there are many moments of sadness and emptiness in childhood.

This is one of those moments, and it will soon pass. However, that does not make it any less upsetting.

Nicholas is one of the most amazing people I have ever met. I love him unconditionally, and I want others to treat him the same. He will learn from this, and he will hopefully remember to treat others with respect, affection, and fairness. However, rejection is a bitter pill to swallow whether one is eighty or a mere eight.

I can promise Nicholas one thing. We will host one hell of a sleepover tomorrow...