Intensity versus enthusiasm: a parent's perspective

My wife and I had dinner last weekend with a couple whom we do not know very well. I usually handle these circumstances very well as I, either, monopolize the talking so as to avoid any awkward silences or use the therapeutic technique of mirroring (when you aren't sure what to say, repeat exactly what was said to you; the person with whom you are talking will feel that they are being listened to and will be happy). This particular dinner, however, was a dud. The couple was nice, and the food was delicious, but the conversation left me speechless. I felt as I did when, at a family reunion of my wife's, one of her distant cousins approached me and began to babble in Basque, a very confusing language whose only relatives are Finnish and Hungarian. I looked at the cousin with a confused, befuddled half-smile. This is how I looked during the dinner, as if some incomprehensible language was being spoken. I literally had nothing to say. In retrospect, this is bizarre because many of the themes that we were discussing are ones with which I can relate. P, the husband in the couple, is passionate about debate just as I am passionate about sports. His children are really good debaters, and he practices with them daily just as my children are good athletes, and I practice with them. (I am leaving out the obvious emphasis and time that any good parent puts on academics). So, why was our dinner conversation (my end, anyhow) so lacking? Why couldn't I relate to him on the obvious similarities (enthusiasm/passion) that we share?
I believe that the problem relating can be attributed to a fundamental (but subtle) difference in our respective zeal. P is intense. He "has and shows firm purpose and great seriousness" regarding music and his children's involvement in debate. I, on the other hand, am very enthusiastic, even passionate, regarding athletics. I'm "an ardent supporter" who has "strong intense feelings," but I do not treat athletics with "a great seriousness." Where's the fun in that? To be fair, it needs to be noted that P's children are older than mine (15 and 12 as opposed to 8 and 5). Maybe their being older requires a greater seriousness. I can, perhaps, afford to be less intense because my boys and I are simply playing sports. Just games, right?
But maybe I should take a page out of T's book. Is it time for me to pump up the intensity in regards to my children's athletic lives? I have documented the frequency with which we played soccer this summer (and are continuing to after-school). This has garnered tangible results. At this Saturday's game, three different parents approached me to compliment my son's playing. My younger son, whose season has not yet started, is excelling at practice and in our playroom (he likes pretending to be Iker Cassillas, making diving saves- landing safely on strategically placed bean-bags). However, there are negatives that go along with my pumping up the intensity. One obvious negative that leaps to mind regards my muscles, which always seem to be aching after vain attempts to match an 8- and 5-year old's ability to sustain to play endlessly. Another negative concerns intensity's communicable nature. My older son is particularly sensitive to this. During one game of one-on-one soccer, he burst into tears after I had scored (he was beating me 6-0 when I scored). We stopped the game so I could figure out what was troubling him. "I should beat you 10-0," he wailed, "even letting in one goal is to much." Did someone say arts-and-crafts? The negative qualities of athletic intensity have appeared vis-a-vis my younger son, as well. I help out at his soccer practices, and the kids were participating in a shielding/dribbling drill. I was supposed to approach a child, allow him or her to shield the ball with his/her body, and then allow them to dribble away. Not a difficult task, yet somehow the athletically-intense me showed up and caused problems. After one little boy had successfully shielded the ball with his body, he began to dribble away from me, happy in his accomplishment. Enter intense-me. I, somehow, decided that it would be a good idea to take one last poke at the ball with my foot. It was more realistic, I figured, defenders aren't just going to let the opposing player dribble away. Anyhow, I ended up tripping this boy. With a spectacular thud, he face-planted into the grass. He was fine, and the whole incident went unnoticed, but the danger signs were clear. Too much athletic intensity can cloud one's judgement.
To be intense or not to be intense, that is the question. I am not sure that I know the answer. It seems, like so much else in life, to have caused some positives and some negatives. It seems to me, however, that any intensity regarding activities should wait until children are older. One must be careful. A child should choose the arena into which he will pour his intensity. A younger child is, obviously, not yet in the position to make such a decision. So, vis-a-vis my boys: we'll keep it light. Enjoying the sports without causing tears, tripping youngsters or tearing my muscles.