SURVIVING LIFE’S CURVEBALLS

Last week it is was time for Nicholas to try out again for the competitive soccer team. He had tried out the last three years and had been selected each time.  In previous years, Nicholas had returned home confident that he was going to make the team. Therefore, we were somewhat concerned when he stated that he was afraid he was not going to make the team after completing the two-day tryout this time. Nonetheless, I told Nicholas that all one can do is try one's best effort and hope for that things work out 

Early the next day, I received an email stating that Nicholas had not been selected for the team. I was heartbroken for the little guy and spent much of the day trying to find a way to tell him. Finally, I decided to talk to him while we were lying in bed about to start reading our books. I first said that I had heard back from the coach. Nicholas immediately came to life and asked what the email said. I told him that he was not selected, to which he responded, “Are you serious?”

It took a few seconds to sink in, but he was soon in tears. He cried in a way that I have not seen since he was a baby – inconsolably. I told him that I was so sorry but that I was proud of him for having the courage to stick his neck on the line and try out when so many of his current teammates had decided to play it safe and not try out again. I told him that I, too, had been in the same situation and was cut during basketball tryouts three years in a row in middle school.

At this point, I paused and asked Nicholas how he felt and what specifically made him so upset. He said that soccer was a huge part of his identity. He said that so many of his friends from school were competitive soccer players who surely were selected during their tryouts. He said he felt like he was able to do the same drills as the other kids during the tryout and that he never got a chance to show his skills during the scrimmages because he never got the ball. Still sobbing, he wondered aloud whether this verdict would mark him for life and meant that his soccer-playing days were over.

I reminded Nicholas that I knew no one who loved the game of soccer more than him – not just playing the game but also studying its players, its teams, and its history. I told him that his love and knowledge of the game had very little to do with being on a competitive team, and I told him that his playing days were far from over. As I held him, he continued to sob. Eventually though, he calmed down and said that he wanted to dedicate himself to improving and trying out again.

I told him that we would look into recreational soccer teams in the neighborhood in the meantime and still play futsal with his friends from Arbor. I even invited him to play pick up soccer with my friends the next day. Finally, I told Nicholas that there are two ways to look at a life event like this. One approach is to feel sorry for one’s self. Another approach is to realize that when one door closes, another door opens. I told him that there were so many additional passions he might now pursue – art, basketball, track and field, frisbee, swimming – none of which have been possible with the year-round schedule of competitive soccer. Nicholas acknowledged these new possibilities and seemed genuinely excited at the prospect of cultivating a new interest.

The next day we did go to the pitch to play pick up soccer. There were several instances when I noticed that Nicholas was being passive and not fully immersed in the game. I gave him the feedback in real-time, which prompted him to play harder and be more engaged. He scored a wonderful goal from the end line from an impossible angle that all the players marveled at. In fact when we were leaving, one of the men asked me Nicholas’ name. I told him, and he said, “Nicholas, that was a great shot. Keep it up!” This brought a huge smile on Nicholas' face.

As we walked home, I put my arm around Nicholas. I realized that I could not solve Nicholas’ setback this time and secure him a place on the team as much as I would have liked to. I still feel absolutely gutted for him. However, as the days have passed, Nicholas has not mentioned his disappointment again. He seems to have realized that there are many more important things to concern himself with, that he is still special, and that the future is still very bright. 

I do not know where Nicholas gets his strength and his resilience – though no doubt Arbor has played a huge role. However, I take great solace in knowing that Nicholas will be able to summon the fortitude to bounce back when life throws its next curve ball at him. As a parent, I cannot wish for more than that for my son.