"Stay with the ball."
My voice was brimming with encouragement.
"Don't shy away from it. Keep it close to your feet, pass to your friends, and stay open for their passes. Take those shots and don't run from the action. Bumping into a teammate or a friend from the other team might sting for a moment, but trust me, you'll get stronger and better. Soon, others will be intimidated by your fearlessness."
As we sped off from home and headed to Saturday soccer club, my mind overflowed with advice for Kenzo and Osamu. Their lack of assertiveness on the field has been evident recently, and I yearn for their success. I want them to thrive, to embrace the game with confidence and mettle. So, in a fatherly manner, I delivered a heartfelt speech from the driver’s seat to those two guys sitting behind me who were loving having all the windows down and feeling the Saturday morning breeze blow through.
Soccer doesn’t start until 10, but we’re all up before 7. Kenzo spent some time at my desk engrossed in his English app on the iPad. A Father's Day gift from Osamu, lovingly crafted at kindergarten, sat beside him. I guess they don't do Father's Day crafts at elementary school, so Kenzo was like, "Happy day papa."
Meanwhile, Osamu sat downstairs, absorbed in a book he and Kenzo borrowed from the library, lost in his world of imagination and possibly even knowledge. He can’t read yet, but he’s in that stage where he’s aware of the text and knows it means something that’s connected to the pictures and spoken words. Most importantly, he’s curious and interested, and he seems to enjoy the exploration of those as-of-yet unknown things on his own and of his own volition.
I snapped a picture, trying not to disturb him. This is his time.
He shooed me away.
Later in the day, as Eri and the boys napped, I walked to the meat market in Ichinazaka. I was barbecue-bound. A shiny 100 yen coin appeared in the street. I looked around. No one in sight. Feeling the touch of lady luck, I seized the opportunity, snapped up the coin, and exchanged it for a can of cheapo chuhai at the supermarket.
It was nearing 30 degrees, and I was carrying home a couple of bags full of beef cutlets, corn, plums, beer, and other accouterments. I sought solace in the shade, called Eri and told her I was on my way home, and stole a little time on the patio outside the supermarket to contemplate life's simple pleasures with that cheapo chuhai.
I thought about the idiom “sweating like a horse.” For sure because I was sweating like a horse. Actually I think it might actually be “sweating like a pig,” but that sounds weird to me. I've never seen either sweat.
I love the hot and humid months far more than the cold and snowy ones. It goes well with my love of discomfort. Maybe not “love” per se, but I embrace it. Like that three dollar bunk house I stayed at in Hsipaw, Myanmar ten years ago. Dirt floor, sorta dirty bed, shared bath time with a group of large swarthy Indian dudes, and wild dogs wandering through the whole place.
In the midst of discomfort, there is bliss. Like sitting in my driveway, attempting and failing to manage the boys, grilling meat, and savoring a cold beer. It's in those fleeting moments that everything feels right, a reward for unwavering dedication.
The “wisdom” I imparted to my boys on this morning's car ride to soccer applies to me as well. We are all unique individuals, forged with our own strengths and weaknesses. It is in accepting ourselves, just as we are, that we find a path to confidence and success.
Whether you're facing the soccer field, the challenges of parenthood, or whatever twists and turns of life, I had this thought… embrace your passions, face adversity head-on, and never shy away from the action.
In your journey, you'll discover unexpected moments of revelation, hidden treasures waiting to be found.
Embrace the game, and let your extraordinary, discomfort-filled life happen.
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