Maybe Next Time

Patty and I had an early appointment this Saturday morning and so had to rush out of the house with the kids still sleeping. It was something I didn't want to do as I always try to save my weekends with the kids. And so when our appointment ended earlier than we had anticipated, we hurriedly called the house and told the kids that we were going out to have breakfast.The kids love going out and we thought that the unplanned date would be a welcome treat to both of them.

We were wrong. Only Bela was waiting for us. Gabi didn't want to go. Apparently when he woke up and we were not home, he went knocking next door and asked if his friends wanted to play. And that's what he was doing when we got home. Playing ball with our neighbors, his friends from the time they were all babies.

"Sorry, Papa, but I'm already playing. You should have told me earlier." Gabi reasoned out.

"But you can always play with them after," I tried to change his mind.

"Sorry, Papa. Maybe next time."

Ahh, heartbreak.

Gabi just turned 6 and will be in Grade 1 next month. He has grown a lot. We've always wanted Gabi to be independent, to have his own friends and not to rely too much on us. Besides, we've always believed that our job as parents is to make our kids prepared to go through life on their own. In a sense, parenting is about readying our kids to leave us.

But not now! Not yet. Not for a long, long time.

"Okay, Gabi." I gave in. "But promise next time, okay?"

And I hugged him. Tight and for a long time. And kissed him over and over again. I knew he was getting a bit embarassed since his friends could see us.

But I hugged him even more. This is is my baby, and forever my baby he will be.

"Why, Papa, why?"

Bela is now at that stage when she asks questions all the time. And you better be ready with straight answers as she will not stop asking. She needs to know and she'll let you know about it.

"Why do you wear glasses, Papa?" Bela asked one afternoon after I arrived from work.

"Because I cannot see clearly without them," I tried to answer.

"And why can't you see well?" Bela wanted to know.

"Ah, because my eyes are, er, sick," I tried to simplify my answer.

"Sick? But I don't hear your eyes cough, Papa!"

Goooooaaaaal!

"Final score: 3-2. Gabi scored all three goals!" read my brother's text message last Thursday morning.

I couldn't believe it. Just like that, Gabi's twelve month winless streak in football was finally over. For the first time in over a year, Gabi was in the winning team. And he scored all the goals to boot!

Gabi started playing football in April 2008 when he was barely three years old. We enrolled him in the Futbol Funatics summer camp in the Meralco Fitness Center in Ortigas. He has been playing there ever since.

I had always wanted Gabi to play football. Growing up, my father encouraged and even forced all his children to take up some form of sports. Especially during the summer months. So whether it was tennis in the village courts, basketball in Kulyawan Youth Club, football in the Makati Football School or even golf in Valley Golf in Antipolo, our summer was full of activity. And full of fun.

I was definitely more excited than Gabi when he was finally old enough to join a football summer clinic. I bought him complete soccer kits, from cleats to jerseys to even shin guards. And I would accompany him to each and every session, staying under the sun with him, staying near enough so I could give him encouraging words but far enough as not to annoy his coaches. And when we'd get home after the sessions, I would ask him to redo the drills with me. Though most of the time, he'd rather just run off to the playground than have to listen to Papa's lectures.

Yes, I am a Soccer Dad. And quite a passionate one at that. I admit that I catch myself from time to time reliving my past as a football player through Gabi's little feet.

I just hope I don't put too much pressure on my son. At least not all the time.Good thing Patty is always there to tell me to take it easy when I get too involved watching Gabi play. She also gently reminds me not too be to disappointed if Gabi doesn't share the same passion that I have for the game.

And indeed there have been times when Gabi's interest in the game has waned. It was at its lowest last October when he was in the middle of his losing streak.

Gabi seemed lethargic and disinterested. He wasn't running after the ball and he let opponents slip past him without a challenge. I kept egging him on, telling him to run faster and kick harder. Nothing helped. In fact, it probably make things worse. One day, after another loss, he finally got the courage to talk to me.

"Papa, soccer is not fun anymore," he whimpered. "When will I ever be in a winning team?"

I hugged him. I wanted to tell him that it was okay to quit. But I knew that wouldn't be the right answer. So I just held him tight. Until he broke the embrace and said he already wanted to play with his Bakugan.

The losing streak ended last Thursday. Unfortunately, I wasn't there to witness it. Gabi scored three goals and I don't even have photos or a video of the momentous event.

Well, maybe it was best that I wasn't there. It was Gabi's moment to savor. I would probably have made a fool of myself anyway, running into the field and screaming my head off in celebration. And three times at that.

This afternoon, a good three days after his glorious performance in the field, out of nowhere Gabi hugged me and whispered, "I love you, Papa. Thank you for teaching me how to play soccer." And off he ran to the village park, to play football with his friends.