Man Of The Match

Over the last weekend, both of our boys played hockey (ice) on different days in different towns. One of them won MOTM and one didn’t. Both worked equally hard and one probably worked a bit harder than the other one. Who do you think won MOTM?

Actually, it doesn’t matter. All that matters is that they did their best and that their Dad – that would be me – was hugely proud of them.

I have been reading book-snippets recently that have been through the eyes of grown men reflecting on the times their Dad came to see them play their favourite sport. All of them write about how they sometimes won awards, sometimes played badly, sometimes messed up and sometimes felt like the best player on the planet.

Each of them also writes about how their Dad was always there for them.

Always cheering them on.

Always the loudest.

Always proud.

Always.

What really struck me was how the love and pride of their Dad – no matter what the outcome - struck a deep, resonate chord with them in later life. MOTM awards come and go. Accolades come and go. Fitness, skill and desire come and go. The most important thing by far was the fact their Dad was ‘there’ for them. Maybe not always physically, but ever present.

The cheers from the previous match still echoed in the next game. The understated, humble congratulation after winning MOTM still ran deep. The hugs and tears and fish & chips after working really hard but losing still brought comfort and confidence. In later life, each and everyone one of those men valued the love and pride of their Dad far more than any award or outcome.

I want to be one of those Dads. I want to be the Dad that is always there, whether that be physically or in their hearts. In life, awards will come and go; accolades will come and go; challenges will come and go. They might win MOTM ten games in a row. What is important is that I am still proud of them when they don’t win it in the eleventh game.

When my sons are grown men, no matter what happens in life, the echoes of my love and pride will still be what they hear in the air.

Learning To Let Go

As some of you will know, my two boys place hockey. Not of the field type, but on ice and on courts (roller). They love it and are doing really well at it.

Our eldest son started at secondary school this term and as part of that process, my wife and I needed to let go a little more. We needed to let him find his own way to school (once we had shown him how to get there, by the way). We needed to let him decide on his own after-school clubs. His own dinners. His own time-planning for being somewhere at the right time. All of it involved letting go just a little bit more.

I have recently been asked to sit in on a couple of meetings with his hockey coaches. He has one for ice, and one for roller. Both of the conversations were really encouraging. I was proud of what they had to say and of my son's response. But as I sat their in silence, I felt like I was letting go a little bit more.... again. As a Dad, I chat with my kids all of the time, particularly about things on their heart, and there he was talking to someone else about how he felt.

As the coaches inputted into him and gave him advice, I found myself thinking, "Hang on, I should be saying those things, not them". I then had to check myself (excuse the pun for any hockey friends). This was about letting go. This was about dropping my pride.

There are people now inputting him him who know far more about a given subject matter than I do. He is learning from them and applying what they say. Sometimes, I will see them chatting with him and giving him instructions which he then discusses with them and applies. When I ask him what was said, he just says "Nothing. It's not important".

And he's right.... it's not. Why is it important to me? I know a bit about hockey, but not as much as he does. What is important is that I let go. Slowly but surely, carefully and with sensitivity. But that doesn't mean I lose him. Far from it. It means I get a son in whom I am proud and with whom I am 'well pleased'.

If I let go I get something better back. I love him and will always be there for him (and my other son), but as he grows older and becomes his own man, I have to trust that he makes the right choices. I have to trust that he listens to his coaches, whether in sport or life, and applies what they have said.

I have to learn to let go.

Being Dad - The Big Adventure

I played rugby in the garden with the boys the other day.

We were going to play 'tag' rugby but they decided it should be 'full-on-take-down-Dad-rugby!'. I happily obliged, allowing them to take me down at will, but also giving them a little Dad-push every now and then to remind them who is stronger. :o)

They won.

My rugby skills are not what they once were and when you have two boys against you, it can be difficult.

But it didn't matter whether I won or lost. That wasn't the point.

What mattered was that they wanted to 'take me down' and bundle with Dad. Over those thirty minutes (that was all I could manage), we laughed, shouted and celebrated. For much of the time, Mum watched from an upstairs window. She loves to watch all of her boys playing - it gives her a real sense of security that all is well with her children and that Dad is totally engaged with bringing up the kids. It's good for her, not just for me and the boys.

Even though we only spent thirty minutes together, the boys loved it. They will talk about that for weeks to come - how I was handed off by my 11-year-old; how my 8-year-old side-stepped me; how I dived for the line with both of them clinging onto me; how they passed the ball forward to score the winning try (at least I was sure it was forward).

I was recently watching a TV programme where James Cracknell, two-time Olympic rowing medalist, spoke about how raising a family was his "next big adventure". Whether you have boys or girls, whether your kids are big or small - enjoy your time with them. Let them play what they want to and throw yourself into it with all you have. Let it be your next big adventure.

The Thin Places....

My two boys are trying out for ice hockey teams in the UK. There are not many of them as rinks as so few, so a place in a squad is fairly rare.

After the latest try-out the other night, my eldest wanted to chat. I was pinching myself as he spoke about 'making the right decision' and 'doing what is right for me at this time' and 'making sure I have all the facts'. Was this an 11-year-old or an articulate adult I was talking to?

I continued the conversation, asking him what was best for him.... what was the right choice. We ended with a big hug and decisions for him to make at some point in the coming weeks.

As I closed the door behind me, a great sense of pride and love rose up in me. Being a Dad is one of the best jobs in the world and these moments - the thin places as the Celts would call them - allow me to touch something of heaven on earth. They are the places where the distance between me and my heavenly Father is tangibly closed.

I am thankful for thin places and even more thankful that my son(s) is maturing into a wise and articulate young man. Long may it grow and may I be wise enough to nurture it in him whenever the opportunity arises.