Dad on Duty #74

Stress makes your body stronger

But it also needs to be stress of the right type and right amount. Too much, or the wrong kind, will cause injury.  Sometimes serious.

The same is true of spirit and psyche.

Little Bit decided to start playing soccer again, after a two year hiatus.  She didn’t want to play Rec; she wants to be in the big leagues.  This level is populated by girls who are going to play at least high school, maybe college. It’s coached by pros, who are getting paid.

She had to try out, and did well.  But it was just kicking drills, not real team play or tactics.  And to be honest, I think we passed the tryout as soon as we got out of the car; Tori is tall and strong and looks athletic.  The coach pretty much hired her on looks.

Allergies have made her feel bad, and she’s missed all but one practice.  Not a good start.  The other girls know positions and tactics and calls; all Tori knows is how to run fast and kick the ball.  These other girls have played together, pretty much as a team, for years, uninterrupted.

Today, we get up at 6:00 am for a tournament.  Our first at this level.  Tori is very nervous.  Her tummy roiling.  Her new uniform shorts don’t fit well, and it adds markedly to the aingst.

We get to the fields, barely on time, and she starts to warm up with the team.

Suddenly it hits her, hard; she doesn’t know what to do.

She comes running back to us.  Her face is multi-colored, like a chameleon with really bad heartburn.  “I don’t want to do this” she says, crying.

Stress makes you stronger, I think.  *If* we do it right.
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“Let’s go talk to your coach” we tell her.  “No, I just want to leave”, her agitation growing.

Here’s our moment.

“Cmon. Let’s go see coach. I’ll go with you, but you have to tell him the issue”.  She does it. Coach handles it great.  “You’re not ready; I know. I want you to watch today, I’ll play you a little bit. Then we”ll play you a little more tomorrow. Ok?”

She nods, visibly relieved.  She hugs me.

But I know she feels disconnected and alienated.  I see it across the field in her body language

I remember that.  I moved 2 – 3 times a year all through elementary school. I was *always* the outsider, trying to catch up. Most times I didn’t bother; just did my own thing.  It was kinda lonely.  Those memories well up now, watching her.  It hurts.

But she is not me.  And her life is nothing like mine was.

This stress will make her stronger.

I hope.