Two Dads...
Sep 05, 2016I loved playing soccer when I was young. From about 7 years of age, up to about 20, I played all the time. I got the sporty genes from my Mum. She was super competitive (she still is at 83!) and played table tennis, badminton, darts, bowls .. anything really!
My Dad on the other hand, was not sporty at all. He didn’t enjoy watching sport and didn’t play any sport whatsoever. He was a great thinker. That was his thing.
When I was about 14 years old, the football team I played for at the time arranged a match for us against the Dads. Just as it sounds, we all get our Dad’s to come along on match day and we play a game of soccer, our team against a motley crew of our Dads.
My Dad didn’t even really understand the rules of soccer and he didn’t have any soccer boots anyway, so I knew he wouldn’t want to play.
‘Why don’t you ask Young Dave across the road if he’ll be your Dad for the day?’ my Mum said.
Young Dave was 10 years older than me and he was my hero. He was called Young Dave because his Dad was Dave – Dave and Doreen from across the road, and their son therefore, was Young Dave! Young Dave had taught me to play soccer from as young as I could remember. He still played for our town club and his Dad was the club physio – their whole family were proper 'sports nuts'!
‘No I’m busy that day unfortunately.’ Young Dave said when I asked him if he could play. ‘But Dad will play in my place if that’s ok?’
‘Fantastic!’ I said. I was thrilled.
When the day of the match against the Dads came, I went and knocked on Dave’s door to collect him. The match was being played on the moor behind our house so I thought we’d walk over together.
Dave was in his mid 50s but he was trim and athletic and generally looked the part. I can still remember the blue tracksuit top with white stripes down the arms that he wore. Doreen was coming too to watch and so we all walked over the moor together. Dave and Doreen had been a big part of my life since I was a baby and so I was proud that they were with me, but I was also proud to show off my soccer skills!
Dave went over to chat to the Dads and I started warming up with my friends.
After about 10 minutes, Young Dave came jogging over to the pitch. His appointment had finished early and he could play after all. This was fantastic, now I had two Dads!
We played as hard as we possibly could, all us boys trying to impress our Dads and we really thought we could win. They were 2-0 up before long though and we needed to score a goal. I realise now that they weren’t really trying that hard to win - it wasn’t as important to them as it was to us (well, actually to most of them at least!)
Just before half time, we won a corner. Nigel went over to take the kick and we all crowded in the box, just in front of their goal. Young Dave took up a defensive position on the front post, Dave was on the back post. I was just outside 6 yard box, unmarked!
Nigel floated the ball into the box perfectly, but I wasn’t really paying attention until the very last second. The ball landed itself on top of my head and shot off at 90 degrees towards the goal. It went over Young Dave’s head up towards the top left corner. I watched stunned as it hit the corner of the post and the cross bar and bounced back out onto the pitch.
‘Unlucky Rod!’ Young Dave said.
‘Great header Rod!’ Dave said.
My team mates all offered similar praise at my skilful header. To everyone else it looked like I picked my spot almost perfectly – out of the goal keepers reach, over the top of Young Dave’s head, right up in the top corner – but I just misjudged it by an inch or two.
But I knew it was an accident!
Three of the people I wanted to impress more than anyone in the world – Dave and Doreen, and Young Dave – all thought that it was a fantastic bit of skill. They were indeed impressed. But I knew it was an accident.
I can still very clearly remember the fraudulent feeling I had as I looked guiltily at their praising faces, smiling sheepishly, but not declaring it was an accident.
For 30 years after that day, Dave and Doreen talked about the day I had two Dads and often talked about my great header.
I learned a great lesson that day without even realising I was learning it. It’s nice if they applaud but it’s not what they think that counts. It’s what I think that really counts. And I knew it was an accident.
I realise I have spent many, many years chasing the good opinion of other people, but now I realise what other people think of you really isn’t any of your business. It’s what you think of you that counts.
My Dad on the other hand, was not sporty at all. He didn’t enjoy watching sport and didn’t play any sport whatsoever. He was a great thinker. That was his thing.
When I was about 14 years old, the football team I played for at the time arranged a match for us against the Dads. Just as it sounds, we all get our Dad’s to come along on match day and we play a game of soccer, our team against a motley crew of our Dads.
My Dad didn’t even really understand the rules of soccer and he didn’t have any soccer boots anyway, so I knew he wouldn’t want to play.
‘Why don’t you ask Young Dave across the road if he’ll be your Dad for the day?’ my Mum said.
Young Dave was 10 years older than me and he was my hero. He was called Young Dave because his Dad was Dave – Dave and Doreen from across the road, and their son therefore, was Young Dave! Young Dave had taught me to play soccer from as young as I could remember. He still played for our town club and his Dad was the club physio – their whole family were proper 'sports nuts'!
‘No I’m busy that day unfortunately.’ Young Dave said when I asked him if he could play. ‘But Dad will play in my place if that’s ok?’
‘Fantastic!’ I said. I was thrilled.
When the day of the match against the Dads came, I went and knocked on Dave’s door to collect him. The match was being played on the moor behind our house so I thought we’d walk over together.
Dave was in his mid 50s but he was trim and athletic and generally looked the part. I can still remember the blue tracksuit top with white stripes down the arms that he wore. Doreen was coming too to watch and so we all walked over the moor together. Dave and Doreen had been a big part of my life since I was a baby and so I was proud that they were with me, but I was also proud to show off my soccer skills!
Dave went over to chat to the Dads and I started warming up with my friends.
After about 10 minutes, Young Dave came jogging over to the pitch. His appointment had finished early and he could play after all. This was fantastic, now I had two Dads!
We played as hard as we possibly could, all us boys trying to impress our Dads and we really thought we could win. They were 2-0 up before long though and we needed to score a goal. I realise now that they weren’t really trying that hard to win - it wasn’t as important to them as it was to us (well, actually to most of them at least!)
Just before half time, we won a corner. Nigel went over to take the kick and we all crowded in the box, just in front of their goal. Young Dave took up a defensive position on the front post, Dave was on the back post. I was just outside 6 yard box, unmarked!
Nigel floated the ball into the box perfectly, but I wasn’t really paying attention until the very last second. The ball landed itself on top of my head and shot off at 90 degrees towards the goal. It went over Young Dave’s head up towards the top left corner. I watched stunned as it hit the corner of the post and the cross bar and bounced back out onto the pitch.
‘Unlucky Rod!’ Young Dave said.
‘Great header Rod!’ Dave said.
My team mates all offered similar praise at my skilful header. To everyone else it looked like I picked my spot almost perfectly – out of the goal keepers reach, over the top of Young Dave’s head, right up in the top corner – but I just misjudged it by an inch or two.
But I knew it was an accident!
Three of the people I wanted to impress more than anyone in the world – Dave and Doreen, and Young Dave – all thought that it was a fantastic bit of skill. They were indeed impressed. But I knew it was an accident.
I can still very clearly remember the fraudulent feeling I had as I looked guiltily at their praising faces, smiling sheepishly, but not declaring it was an accident.
For 30 years after that day, Dave and Doreen talked about the day I had two Dads and often talked about my great header.
I learned a great lesson that day without even realising I was learning it. It’s nice if they applaud but it’s not what they think that counts. It’s what I think that really counts. And I knew it was an accident.
I realise I have spent many, many years chasing the good opinion of other people, but now I realise what other people think of you really isn’t any of your business. It’s what you think of you that counts.
Until next time ..
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