I played soccer through my junior high and high school years. Regrettably, I was not very good, although I really think I could have been better if I had started playing at a younger age. I only ever started a game once - my senior year - and sometimes I didn't even play. But that didn't matter to my dad. He was always there to cheer me on. My dad was a very busy man. He travelled a lot for his work - mostly overseas. There was one year he was literally commuting to Madrid, Spain and was home on the weekends. This had its advantages, as many times he could take my mother and I along with him. Through this I gained some international experience I never would have otherwise. But it also had its downsides. He worked long hours and was very busy. As I grew into a teenager, it didn't seem to matter as much though. In fact, as I went to my soccer games, I would have preferred that he didn't go! But more often than not, he was there, embarrassing me by cheering loudly on the sidelines, in his expensive suit.
Now, as I look back on those times, I feel the opposite of what I was feeling then. I feel special that he made those games a priority, even though I wasn't very good. It was one of his ways of showing me how special I was to him. So many times I conveyed to him, through rolling my eyes and sarcastic remarks, my annoyance at his showing up, but it never deterred him. He recognized that someday I would look back and appreciate that he was there. And by george, he was right! =)
I love you, Daddy.