With one lap to go, my child fell behind his teammates running around the soccer field. From the look on his face, I knew something was wrong. Not something as simple as a stitch in the side or a sore ankle, but a wound that burned far deeper.
As soon as practice was over, he followed me to our truck. “I don’t think I want to play soccer anymore,” he confided, head hanging.
“You don’t?” I asked. “Was it hard today?”
With two children playing basketball, our family of seven is in the thick of junior varsity and varsity seasonal playoffs. Not only does this mean lots of driving, late night dinners and cash for concessions, it also means lots of excitement, high hopes, and sometimes dashed expectations. While my husband, Dana, loves the sport and was a high school standout, my own basketball days were bleak.