Daddy Bikes to Work, Not on Weekends,and This is Why

The ride I went on this weekend was like no other. Full of max heart rates, out of breath moments, elation, and heartbreak. But this was no bike ride. There I was, the often feared Obsessed Soccer Parent (OSP) yelling alongside the rest of the parents. I of course dazzled the other parents as I balanced my latte while texting, not to mention taking photos simultaneously on a my phone and digital camera (yes those still exist). But wait, that means I either have 5 hands or the dexterity of an octopus. Well no, but I do have my handy soccer wagon. It holds everything from the canopy, my chair (that I set up yet never sit in as I pace the sidelines), the blanket for the girls on the bench, extra water, hoodie, you name it, I got it, let's roll. 

As the day started, my families and friends furiously started texting scores and play by plays as the day progressed. But today was not like no other. Sure, there was the day I worked the booth at my son's baseball game. Here I managed to work the scoreboard, music, and announcer gig all while sending my wife text updates of how our son and his team were doing. But that was easy. 

You see on Saturday my daughter's team won both her games. Although it was fantastic, and we celebrated with a great team dinner in Sacramento, our season would be over if we lost the last game on Sunday (long story, but trust me..it's over). My son, coached by my more than just a trophy wife also won his final four soccer game on Saturday. Sunday was his chance for him and my wife to win it all. The three of them have worked hard all year at their skills that I was dying on the inside to have it all. Too much to ask? Apparently not, for I told my son "look..your basketball team needs you. If you have the energy, join them for the second half of the game on Sunday, after your game. If you're tired I understand but any minutes you can give them would be great." 

I happen to have a stake in his game as well, as I'm the coach. Albeit, I had another more than capable dad step up to help...but nonetheless, we were going to be two players short, and my boys would be tired going up against the best team in the league. 

And yes, the word hypocrite comes to mind. At practice the other night, I stopped the ball and shouted "Can you hear your point guard?". They all shook their heads. I said, "That's right. And he can't hear you either. Talk to each other. Call the screens. And listen for the play to be called. Tune out your mommies and daddies (kids start laughing) and ignore what they say. Listen to your point. Listen to your coach, but most importantly, listen to each other!". 

"Bailey talk to them!". Oh man, I'm no better than the rest of them as I stood alongside the other parents shouting and cheering at their girls. Then again my daughter and I have a tactful way of communicating via our own little hand signals. She was trying to ask me how much time was left and I signaled back what the score was. Explains the funny look she gave me. 

As she took and snagged several shots to her stomach and chest (pretty much self inflicted as she ran out to challenge anyone driving the ball to her goal) my heart would stop and start. Only to stop again as I find out that my son's soccer game ended the half in a tie! Augh, we tied them last time too in our undefeated season. Near the end of his game I got the text from grandma "We scored!!" And shortly thereafter "We Won!!". Awesome...huge....and one game down. 

Several celebration photos later at the end of Bailey's game I get the text "Your team is down by 7, Bryce is at the game". Ugh, is there no rest? It was my wife's turn now to send me the updates. Turns out the team was down by 15 at one point. Bryce came in and helped turn the lead around. "Down by 1 with 1:15 left". I replied verbally "You are killing me". Woops, may have scared a few kids as I scolded my phone. "You're up by 3, but you fouled...their best player on a three pointer. Shooting..... three". 

As my daughter and I stood in line to get her State Cup hoodie, the text finally pierced through the icy Sierra Nevada winds. It read "You Won! Congratulations coach!". 

As I started to celebrate, my daughter was done. Done waiting in line. She wanted to go home and rest. Like any other ride, where you've given it your all and have nothing left to give, you just want to get home. A pair of hours later, semi-rested but tired from the drive, we greet mom and son at the door. All smiles I shout "Wow, what a weekend for us! Tell me everything!"

Daddy bikes to work, not on weekends...and this is why. 












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