Jordan's Journey

It was the smallest tooth I’ve ever seen. Jordan held it proudly in the palm of her hand. It was a long-time coming, this one. Lucas began losing his baby teeth at five, but Jordan has been stingy with hers. 2:45 pm was the exact time of separation, duly noted by her kindergarten teacher. Poetically, she marks this rite of passage on the same day as another milestone in her life: the final day of her first chemotherapy cycle. (more…)

The big blonde kid, number 9, smashed through our middle line. I think they called him Riley. He was unusually tall. A parent from the sideline joked that he drove himself to the game. He was fast, too, though he didn’t look it. He sped past our center and fixed his sights on our goal. Our defenders, only two in range, scrambled into position. My eyes swept the field in search of support. Our center scrambled to catch the attacker, but he was yards behind with little hope of gaining. That’s when I noticed my son surging forward, angled on a path to intercept racing number 9.

I don’t know why I was so surprised. He had long since graduated from daisy picker to average player, but his performance was a constant source of frustration. All season long he lollygagged and socialized. He had a habit of standing around when he should have been running or hustling on the play. Two games before, I warned him to display more effort. I reminded him that a team is only as strong as its weakest link. He nodded understanding, but the next week he once again meandered through the game, spending more time cracking jokes with fellow teammates than contributing to the mix of competitive play.

He wasn’t meandering now. He was bearing down with ferocious determination. Number 9 spotted him and broke right to throw him off, but my boy countered with an easy course-correction. Attacker and defender danced. I looked on with hesitant, suspicious hope. Any minute now, I figured, he would lose steam and the attacker would continue on. But the boy was unrelenting. He spun on the attacker, tackled the ball and kicked it out of bounds. The sidelines cheered him. So did I. He spied me applauding his play, but he made no acknowledgment. Instead, he thrust himself into the game and helped his team secure a spot in the semifinals. It dawned on me that he was due far more credit than I had given him. I am proud of him. Not because of his play, or his effort, or even his development as a soccer player. These are small achievements in the scope of what he’s navigated in life. I am proud of him because his character always rises in the face of adversity. Truth be told, Jordan’s journey has an unassuming hero. His name is Lucas. (more…)