They Call it The Beautful Game

Football. The Beautiful Game. Not the pointed oval American game, but the one we call soccer - where you actually use your foot.

Why has it become so important to me and why is it so "beautiful"? Some say it is beautiful because of the spectacle... The way the game flows... the way a group of players work together, coordinate passes and move the ball up field.



This is a trill to watch, it's true and I believe it's the purest form of team sport. I played baseball growing up. In little league, out in right field, it felt like the least important position. Much of the time, as there were few left hand batters that could hit the ball out there, right field was just... boring. And being a right fielder didn't seem so important in the grand scheme of the team. The pitcher, first base.... oh and the catcher. Those guys were important.

So here I am. Middle aged. As a fan of Formula 1 racing, I often dreamed of days when my daughter might watch a race with me. I worked on brain washing her with toy cars and race tracks. She even began to identify which was the Ferrari and which one was the McClaren. But in terms of actually sharing my passion for grand prix racing: no luck. Spending time watch Grand Prix racing was now at odds with spending time with my daughter. For me, not a difficult choice.

Then flipping channels one day I come across a match of the United States Women's National Soccer team. It sparks my interest and I am reminded of those few years around college when I followed international soccer. I begin to follow the progress of the US Women as they work for World Cup qualification and find myself recording the matches. Gradually, my daughter chimes in : "are those girls?" she asks. "Yes, girls play soccer too". She was on her way.

One thing leads to another. I find myself playing on a company sponsored team. My daughter and I start to play around with the soccer ball on weekends. Fall 2007 arrives and I sign her up for U6. She's hooked.

Soccer became a catalyst for something I couldn't find a way to do. I had dreamed that my daughter would be like my best friend. I couldn't connect with playing with dolls no matter how much I loved her and my efforts to instill a passion for Grand Prix racing clearly failed. But now soccer was the beautiful game: Beautiful for what it has done for me, for what it has done for my daughter. It has brought at least us together. Now there we were, holding hands waking in to Spartan stadium to see the US Women vs. Japan. The stadium was packed with fathers, daughters, families. My daughter cheered: "U-S-A". The beautiful game indeed.