A goal was going to come…

The rant you are about to read is really long and really personal to me. You may think that I’ve forgotten how to be CCD. I’m purposely NOT trying…

August 30, 2012, our son Taylor was bracing himself for impact. He was about to receive a ball that had been played to him just a fraction too late. Instead of receiving the ball as he was moving toward it, he had to wait ever so slightly. His oppostion, closing quickly from behind, arrived just as the ball reached Taylor. The problem was that Taylor’s leg was planted when the defender planted him. All Tay remembers is hearing a loud pop. He buckled like a cheap suit as his mother buckled beside me in the bleachers. They carried him off…

The initial diagnosis was a torn Achilles. This would have ended his season, required surgery, and been followed by a year of rehabilitation. Taylor was bummed but his demeanor wasn’t much different; he appeared fairly “even keeled.” After a trip to the orthepedic he got some good news. His Achilles was intact. “Thank you Lord,” Miss and I thought. The bad news was that he had 3 bones that were deeply contused according to the doc. Translation, he had to be in a boot for at least a month, maybe longer. Taylor took this in stride and got into a daily discipline of putting on the big ole boot and off he went. He wasn’t allowed to do any running, stairs, cycling. Nothing but rest was the recipe.

After awhile the doctor allowed Taylor to return to practice. He couldn’t do anything but fetch balls, slowly. He wore his boot and played ball boy of sorts. He’s not much of a cheerleader, so I’m sure he did most of this work without saying much. He just kept showing up. After four weeks the doctors evaluated his progress and told him he still wasn’t ready to return to work. Bummer. More bad news. He took it in stride and waited. He kept showing up and kept to himself. Slowly he got better. After what seemed like forever he was able to begin rehabilitation. It still hurt but not too much, he said. The season was down to the last few games when, finally, he was cleared to play. Finally, we thought, Tay is getting back on the field. Miss and I were ecstatic with anticipation. There isn’t much better in my life than seeing my son, Tay, running like the wind, making the right touch, shielding his defender, playing a precise ball to his teammate, and overlapping a run into space even if the ball never arrives. I LOVE seeing him play.

However, right before gameday, Tay got sick. Really sick. He couldn’t practice and he couldn’t play. Now I’m pissed. Miss has had it. We were just plain mad and had no place to release our anger. At least no place that made any sense.

Tay had to be hurting more than us but you couldn’t tell. Calm he remained. Once he got well, he simply showed up to practice and got back to work. Slowly he began to regain his touch. Slowly he began to hurt less when he cut. Slowly he began to trust his leg. Slowly he began to fear less the opponent that he couldn’t see. Slowly he began to see the ball find the net. Slowly, he got better.

Problem.

The season was over. Done. Fact.

By the time Tay could come out to play, all the games had been played. All that remained were the playoffs. Game one arrived and the first sub off the bench was young Tay. Miss and I held our breath when he jogged onto the pitch. We didn’t say anthing to each other. We were both too scared to watch. Miss buried her eyes, I kinda squinted through mine. He played. Not so good, but he played. He was rusty and he wasn’t 100%, he told us as we huddled around the kithcen island that evening. I didn’t care, truth be told. I was just jacked to see him back on the field. He looked perfect to me.

Playoff game two arrived and another victory showed up 80 minutes later. Taylor’s team is talented. Really talented. Nearly every position is filled with college caliber athletes. Good ones. The team kept marching through the playoffs and, every game, Tay got his minutes. He wasn’t playing big minutes, but at least he was back playing. His demeanor was no different. He’s still calm and even keeled. He’s still showing up and doing his work. He’s not getting a ton of looks nor a ton of minutes. He’s probably not even having a ton of fun, he’s probably mostly frustrated with his lack of minutes and his lack of touches. He doesn’t complain. He doesn’t throw a fit. He doesn’t fall into victimhood. He just keeps showing up and keeps getting himself ready.

Last night his team played in the final four. Tay sat the bench as the starters took the field. A starting lineup is where he belongs. He knows he’s good enough. He knows he’s capable. He knows he’s been hurt and he knows he’s been blessed with lots of talented teammates too. Blessed and cursed, I might say. Him, not so much. My heart was heavy and happy as I watched him take his seat on the bench. I wondered to myself if he would get in. His coach doesn’t have a long bench even-though, in fact, he does. Tay deserves to play, I kept thinking to myself. Tay deserves so much more than what this season has done for him, I thought. Damn, I thought to myself, it is so easy to slide into victim speak…

The game wasn’t 2 minutes old when our striker went down in a heap. The Liberty crowd let out a collective gasp as Kyle grabbed at his ankle. Tay was on the field in the blink of an eye. He made some nice touches, made some nice passes, ran into space, and overlapped as was planned. Ten minutes later, Kyle would sub back in. I smiled as I looked at Miss and we both were happy for him. She grabbed my hand, I squeezed hers back. The half would end 0-0. Tay hadn’t gotten back in.

The second half started slow and then another player, Grant, went down around midfield. Again, Tay was back on the pitch. He got a shot on goal and made more good plays. 11 minutes later, Grant returned. Tay took a seat. He had done his job.

Finally at the 4:40ish minute of the final half, Mr. Robinson found the back of the net. Liberty had taken the lead. Much to my surprise, a few seconds later, Tay was called on again. Tay would finish the game on the field. My heart was beyond soaring. I watched my best friend run and run some more. I wanted to scream but knew he wouldn’t want to hear me scream. He’s heard all that before. I sat quietly and just watched and hoped for the time to expire. Why does the clock go so slow when least want it to?

Before the match was over, Tay made a great run to the box and had the goalie out of position due to Zach’s possesion to the right. The ball came across and I saw a goal coming. Bummer. The ball was behind him. You see, soccer is a game of precision. Goals don’t come often. Everything has to line up just right. So close. The game ended and the celebration began. I haven’t been this happy for him since he talked to me following his Young Life Camp. This is the camp, you may remember, where he came back and told me that he had met Jesus. Talk about a good meeting…

Which brings this rant to a close. This season will end this Saturday as Taylor’s team will either be State Champions or Second in the State. Taylor, however, has already won. You see Taylor has learned this season that this thing we call life, is all about the struggle; a worthy struggle. He’s learned that you simply pursue your “love to’s” and just keep showing up with your daily disciplines. You cannot control what happens. You control what you can; how you deal with it. Taylor has learned that his demeanor is not a problem. His demeanor is one of his many strengths. Sometimes he leans into it; sometimes he will learn to lean against it. He’s got plenty of time for that. And, Tay learned that his “even keel” is his happy place where he is at his best to perform. So, it should come as no surprise that when he was interviewed by the Columbus Dispatch reporter following the game and asked if he was nervous when, late in the game, Liberty had yet to score, he responded CCD (Clear, Concise, and Direct).

“We had scored a ton this season so I wasn’t nervous. A goal was going to come.”

A goal was going to come. A goal was going to come. A goal is coming. A goal is coming. A goal is coming. Taylor, remember, a goal is coming. Thank you for building me by being you. Thank you for your belief. Thank you for not quitting. Thank you, my son, for showing up.

A goal was going to come…

Last night, it came.