Commitment

The action is intense: brother against brother on the soccer pitch that is our playroom. I sit in the comfortable armchair at what would be midfield. I imagine myself to be, Jose Mourinho, coach of Real Madrid. We're about the same business, Jose and I. We're both trying to create the best soccer players with the pieces we have. He has the likes of Renaldo, Ozil, Khadeira, and Cassillas. I have my boys. But regardless of the quality of players that one is working with, success is hard. It doesn't come easy. It requires hard work and commitment. So, I sit, watching my boys play, shouting directions and encouragement. I am moulding my boys into proper footballers. This summer, when I tilted our sports axis toward soccer, I made a commitment to turn my boys into knowledgeable soccer fans and formidable soccer players. I have been pretty successful. (Their soccer prowess is probably due to their athletic skill, but, knowledge of soccer stars worldwide, their frequently wearing of soccer jerseys, and their interest in the game?- all me).
Last weekend was a good one. My boys did well in their games. The family had a good weekend outside of soccer, too. As with so much in life, however, the successes were mingled with failure. Nevertheless, both the successes and failures were characterized by this week's blog's subject, commitment.
My older boy's team won it's game, 6-1. He scored a goal, had three shots on net, and handled the ball really well. As we were driving away from the field, we passed a friend and her kids (who were in their car). We stopped side by side. We rolled down our windows to exchange pleasantries. "We were just discussing ----- [our oldest boy]. He has gotten so good!" our friend said. Similarly, my younger son enjoyed great success in his game. His team lost 6-3, but my son scored all three goals. So dominant was my little man, that whenever he touched the ball, I would holler, "Get the ball, ----, and take it and score." It worked three times. Not bad. Jose Mourinho would be proud. So, our commitment to soccer has resulted in very good soccer players. But commitment can have a dark side.
Take the games that took place today. My boys played well, but I questioned our commitment to soccer. Today was 46 degrees with a steady down-pour. My younger boy played a double-header. During the first game, he scored the first goal for his team, then he switched teams because our opponents did not have enough players. He then scored three goals for their team. A win-win for my boy. But a drenching one. In the second game, he was tired, soaked and freezing, but he still scored. Afterward, my younger son's best friend exclaimed to his father: "---- and I both scored and we're FRIENDS!!!!!" (Six year-old enthusiasm can outshine even the dreariest weather). My older boy's best friend's parents took our eldest boy to his game. He returned home muddier than I've ever seen him. But he played hard and scored, in a losing effort. Playing in weather so dank, so muddy, so wet, so cold takes true commitment (not to mention the commitment of father who stands on the sidelines for two hours in the aforementioned down-pour). So, we demonstrated commitment, but at what cost? My children seem vaguely traumatized. They are no longer, dripping wet, but the look in their eyes is one of dampness. As I write this, my boys are huddled next to me, watching TV in a near-comatose state. We've shown true commitment to soccer, but commitment in freezing rain can shake the resolve of the stoutest.
So, the dark side of commitment can involve one's needing to attend games (and play games) in inclement weather. The dark side of commitment is also evident in the misallocation of commitment. My younger boy is chronically guilty of this. On Wednesday night of this week, he became committed to the idea that he would not take a "no thank-you" bite of the Chantarelle mushrooms that my wife had prepared. So, we compromised my wife sliced the already tiny mushroom in two. He gingerly put the mushroom in his mouth and began to chew with a pained expression on his face. He took a swig of milk to help the mushroom go down his throat. Instead of doing this, however, he made a dramatic, gagging sound, and spit his mushroom (now mixed with a lovely chocolate-milk sauce) all over the table. My wife tried to reason with my son. Wouldn't it be easier, she wondered, if he just ate the mushroom, rather than fussing so? It goes without saying that the answer should be 'yes,' but my son's resolve is like granite. He was committed to not eating the mushroom and, so, he would not; regardless of our urging. To make a long, and particularly frustrating story short, my son finally did eat the half-mushroom piece, but only after many tears, losing multiple G-bucks, and losing the privilege of having us lie down with him at bed-time (in this, we relented). With my usual soft-touch, I sidled up to my son and asked, "now wouldn't it have been so much easier if you had just eaten the mushroom?" I wondered reasonably. He looked at me like I was crazy. It is hard to sway the truly committed.
Commitment can be a force for good. The strides we have made in regards to soccer illustrate this. Our commitment to practicing, watching, and being interested in soccer have made us legitimate players and fans. Our commitment to wearing soccer jerseys has made us look good while doing this. But that same commitment nearly resulted in three cases of hypothermia today from playing and spectating soccer in near-freezing rain. Commitment to any cause can result in trouble. My younger son's commitment to not trying his mushrooms brought him a world of hurt (an evening of frustration, really). Commitment is a double-edged sword. One should be warned before becoming too... committed.