I get it.

When I was in seventh or eighth grade, I played in a soccer tournament in Tennessee. We made it to the championship game, and for some reason, the game had to be played on Monday instead of Sunday. My mom felt like she needed to get back to work, so she headed home with another parent Sunday evening. To this day, she says that she regrets going home that night and not staying to watch us win the next day. I never really understood that. I mean, I understood that she was excited for me and the team, but my 13 year old head couldn't wrap around why she wanted to be there so badly.

Until today...

My little six year old son played in his first soccer tournament today. It's an end-of-the-season tournament that includes all of the teams they have played throughout the season. We were lucky enough to play the two teams that we soundly beat earlier. The problem was that the team did not play well, and unfortunately, it was a particularly bad day for Landon. They tied the first game and barely won the second. It was enough to get them into the championship game which after their not-so-good playing, we felt lucky to be participating in. We were playing "the red team". The team that had beat us twice in the year. The team that had won their first two games of the tournament 9-0 and 6-1. THE TEAM. Jason and I had a few words with Landon during the break--telling him that he needed to get into the game, needed to play tougher than what he had that morning, he needed to get his head out of his you-know-what. We both felt our words fell upon deaf ears, so when we saw that Coach had put the yellow keeper jersey on our young son, we both felt a little weary to say the least. Okay, I felt sick to my stomach. Landon was having his off day. It was okay-we all have them, but I didn't want to watch him get scored on over and over. I'm embarrassed to say that I didn't have much faith in our boys and was worried we would get beat badly. Well, I guess our blue team is an afternoon type of team because those boys played amazingly! I don't think there was one boy out there that didn't give everything he had. They played with a determination and a spark that they lacked the first two games. They fought that battle together as a team, a unit, a squad who wanted a championship.

And in that big goal stood my first born.

Fitted with a keeper's jersey and gloves, he looked the part. Little did I know, he was the part. My kid played AWESOME! He stopped balls that normally would have gone in. He played strong and tough. He played like he was in that goal every day of the week. He proved he had his daddy's goal keeping genes in his little body. I have never been more proud of that child on the soccer field as I was today. As we were packing up after the game, a parent from the other team came up to parent on our team and said "we just couldn't get anything past your keeper. He was incredible". That was MY son! Our Landon.

So Mom and Dad, I get it. After 23 years, I understand why you wanted to watch that game. I understand why you were there at every game. I understand why you were disappointed when my head wasn't in the game, and I understand how you could barely control yourself when I had an incredible game. I get it.

I was a crazy woman today--full of butterflies and nerves. There were times I could barely watch and other times when I jumped up and down full of excitement. Today I was a mom of an athlete.

Today, I got it.




Editors note: Landon's team didn't actually win the championship game today. They tied: 1-1. Landon was in perfect position on the goal they scored, but there was a man open on the back door. For the entire game, the ball was primarily played on our end of the field. It was a team effort--mostly defensively, but a team effort all the same. It was great. In our minds, those boys won. Today, they won.

Oh yeah, we found out many hours later that Landon did this all commando. He forgot to put underwear on this morning. Who forgets that?