My dad’s birthday is coming up – less than a month away. As it’s his first birthday in Portland, and the first birthday on which I’ll have the chance to see him in more than 15 years, I wanted to do something special. I’d been racking my brain trying to come up with it and Sunday night peering down at the field from the stands I realized the perfect gift. Better than perfect! Right! I’d take my dad to a Portland Timbers game! It was brilliant. I patted myself on the back, emailed my mom to make sure she wouldn’t want to go too, and checked the schedule for the right game. I had it all figured out.
Until I was informed that it wasn’t so much that my dad doesn’t care about soccer, he doesn’t like it.
I mentally scratched my head, I actually pictured myself scratching my head. I was confused. Soccer is one of the few sports that I really do enjoy. It’s the high spirited pace of the game. The clear rules. The colorful fans. And the fact that scoring system really is super simple.
Each goal is a cause for wild celebration. Applause, cheers, high-fives, songs, and even kisses in the stands as the team celebrates on the field. And if it’s a good match those goals don’t happen too often and everyone waits with baited breath to see if a goal will be scored at all! Apparently my dad likes higher scoring games. After all these years and I’m only now figuring it out.
This is true of so much of my life.