The Arrows

My son, Scott, plays on a soccer team called the Arrows. He's played on this team for at least the last five years, maybe longer. They play in the Capital Area Soccer League's (CASL) recreational division, which means they play for fun and love of the sport (or because their parents make them). I coached this team for about three years. We won some and lost some, lost more than we won, and had a fair amount of fun, as well as some grueling practices; I believe in practicing hard.

The Arrows played two games today in CASL's end-of-season tournament, the CASL Cup. They lost the first and won the second. One coach missed the first game, so I acted as assistant coach for it. Though they lost, I was proud of their effort, particularly in the second half, which they dominated.

Scott primarily plays the center of the defense, a position soccer types call "Center D," and it's his job to run the defense. He's good at it. I told him I'd embarrass him by putting him in my blog, and I took a lot of pictures for that purpose. Being a sensible young man and a clever one, he made the argument that I shouldn't be putting pictures of him on the Internet. So, I chose a safe one, an image of his back.

This image also triggered another reaction in me. Prior to this season, the shirts for the Arrows always showed only first names. This year, they changed to last names. It was odd to see a Van Name on the field; the only previous shirts I'd seen with that name were mine.

I think the world of the Arrows, and I was proud to coach them and to know them. They are a great bunch of guys.

They also served to remind me that all over the world, in countries near and far, lands friendly and hostile, parents are watching their kids play games, rooting for their children, fearing for their safety, loving them, and doing the best by them that they can manage.

I'm just another one of those parents, but these soccer games helped connect me to the world, and as a guy for whom alienation is a huge issue, I appreciate the connection.

When I get angry at the people in other groups, other nations, other anything, I try to remind myself that even if I believe the others are wrong, even if I truly despise them, they are humans, parents and children, moms and dads, sisters and brothers, men and women, and they all have their own Arrows whom they love and cheer for and cherish as fiercely as I love and cheer for and cherish my son.