Transitioning well…

I arrived at the stadium a bit early this past friday. I was a bit excited to see our son, Taylor, as he has been away at college for a month now. He arrived with the team about ten minutes later and I watched him from a distance as he and his teammates began to warm up. I was so excited to see him I couldn’t believe how quickly a month had transpired. Tay didn’t get to play his first collegiate game a few weeks back in Chicago. The second one in St. Louis he got to play for a dozen. The third one, this past friday, he got to play for twenty. Progress.

After the game I waited as he and the team stretched, prayed, and kinda shared hugs all around. I’d never seen this but I clearly loved the vibe. He smiled as he climbed the edge of the bleachers and we agreed upon our dinner plans for the night. Good. He climbed into the bus, I jumped into my car and an hour later we were in Applebee’s. I asked him question after question and he calmly answered and laughed a lot along the way. It was obvious he’s transitioning well. Classes were good, not great. Lots of writing and only two classes involving science so far, had him out of his comfort zone. He wasn’t freaked or anything close, he was just giving me the facts. I loved listening to him and watching him down his appetizer, his steak, and his dessert like it might be his last supper. My gooooooosh it was good to be with him…

Saturday morning I was up at the crack and walked to the Crack for some much needed breakfast. The next few hours I was lost in my current read, In The Kingdom of Ice, by Hampton Sides. I love reading history and this ones about the race to the North Pole back in the 1870’s. Very cool. Actually, very cold…

Tay texted my a little after 10 bells and said he was ready for breakfast so I could come get him whenever I was ready. I called to tell him I was already outside his dorm. I didn’t tell him I’d been there for hours reading in my car just so I could maximize the minutes with him once he was ready. A few minutes later we were having breakfast at Bob Evans. Again, he ordered more food than I remember ever seeing him order, much less devour. College has increased his appetite. He corrected me. College soccer has increased him appetite. He went on to tell me how much harder practices are. The talent, the physicality, the competition, and the scrimmages that are like games. He said he’s working harder than he ever has and he’s not sure the coaches notice. There are so many other good players and lots of them are bigger and older. He wasn’t bummed as he spoke. He’s Tay, he lives and bathes in facts; feelings, not so much. I encouraged him to keep working and mentioned how hard I noticed him working in the warmup drills the day before. He was glad I noticed and said it was on purpose. He “feels” he’s a bit behind because he pulled his groin during the early season three a day’s and has just recently returned to full strength, he continued, with his mouth nearly full of egg, potato, pancake, and sausage. Gooooooosh it was good to watch him eat and speak. 

He then dropped the hammer.

He told me about his coaches. During the Chicago trip his Head Coach told the entire team the story of his recent divorce. I was stunned. Tay told me he was too. Turns out Coach’s wife left him for another man, told him she never really loved him, and turned her back on him in an instant. They had been going through the divorce for over a year and Coach was transparent about how he got through it – on his knees. Coach told his team of 28 that without his faith he wasn’t sure he’d be here. His wifes betrayal didn’t test his faith, he continued, it revealed it. He shared his learning, his commitment to his kids, and his regrets that he wished he could rewind. Tay was inspired. Tay saw a leader modeling the way, embracing pain and suffering, and willing to bathe in truth. I just kinda sat there stunned and saddened at his coaches devasting loss. And, as my mind cleared from it’s depressed state, I thought to myself it sounds like Tay isn’t the only here who is transitioning well – Coach is too…

Next Tay told me about the call his assistant coach got, later, on the same road trip. His wife has been battling an illness for years and they knew she wasn’t going to live long. However, when they left for this trip she had been on the upswing and they were encouraged she might make a comeback. The call came in Chicago. The assistant Coaches wife had passed, suddenly. Gone. Everyone was in a state of shock as they boarded the bus to take Coach to the airport. On the way there, the Assistant Coach led the team in a time of worship. He wanted to celebrate his wifes life with his team. Tay said it was more inspiring than being in any Church service. He was blown away by his leaders ability to handle loss. I was in tears just listening to these stories. Tay was calm and collected; me, not so much. We walked out of Bob’s and I thought to myself about what an incredible introduction to life Tay’s first month has been. Life is hard. You better know who you are and what you believe if you want to have any hope of transitioning well.

Transitioning well. Few do.

After some shopping for supplies we went back to his dorm and before I knew it, it was time for Tay to go the team “devo” time. Devo is short for devotions. Before the game bus leaves they have a time together of learning, spiritually; soccer, you see, is secondary. I was beginning to see this. I hugged T and told him good luck in the game. I couldn’t wait to get my seat and see if he was able to get in the game. The first half came and went in a flash. Tay didn’t get in but the team had done well and were leading 2-0. I walked around campus for 20 minutes to transition to the second half without so much of my nervous energy. Yes, I’ve got issues. When I returned to my seat the second half was four minutes old. 3-0 and still 25 minutes remained. I hoped and waited for some movement from the bench. Finally with 20 to play and the score the same, Tay was warming up. My face was too. Fifteen to play and my son is running on the pitch. I was smiling from ear to ear and anticipating the pure joy of seeing him do what he loves for fifteen.

Then the hammer dropped. 

The team Marygrove from Michigan scored on a beautiful set piece. 3-1. Still comfortable. Not for long, however. Within another sixty seconds they would sneak one in again and with ten and some change to play it’s 3-2. Coach sends the four starters back in and the subs are out in a flash. My face drops as I watch Tay trot across the field. He stops, however, and settles into a new position. Turns out coach was leaving him in, just moving him from left outside mid to right. My smile returned as did my anxiety. My gooooosh, what will he do now with the game on the line and the pressure to perform, my mind raced. I prayed he would do well but secretly asked God just not to let him really screw things up. I was a nervous Nellie, I’ll admit. 

A good cross from him, a couple good touches, and I could tell he was the same ole Tay. Calm. Deal with the facts. Play. Work hard. Do what you can. A couple minutes later, Tay’s team breaks through for another goal and at 4-2, the stadium lets loose a collective sigh of relief. Less than four to go and I’m smiling. He’s still in and not doing anything wrong. Until the 88th minute, that is. Taylor’s team wins the ball on the far left side and plays a couple nice build up passes along the sideline. Tay notices this from the far right and fills the lane as he cuts toward the middle and instinctively puts his right hand high in the air. The left middie sees this in a virtuous flash and sends a twenty five yard ball across the field and right to Tay’s running, right boot. I jump from my seat as the ball floats for freakin’ ever it seems on Tay’s shoe. He brings it down and cuts hard to his left. He’s gotta step on the defender and only ten yards to the goal. My mind is thinking “SHOOT the damn thing, SHOOT it now.” This is why I’m in the stands and my mouth is shut. Tay is being Tay. He’s calm and he’s doing what he know how to do; score. He slots the ball to his left foot and takes another touch. The goalie thinks he’s going far post and takes the first stutter step that way, Tay fires behind him in an instant. The goalie has no chance.

GOALLLLLLLLL, I scream as I jump out of my seat and get as little air and as much as is possible. I can’t believe he scored. I can’t believe I got to see his first collegiate goal. I’m beside myself with pure joy and the tears are soaking the inside of my sunglasses as I try like a banchee to control my now out of control emotions. 

Two minutes later the game is history and IWU wins 5-2. Tay and his teammates hug, pray with their opponent, pray as a unit, hug each other and then stretch some sore muscles. Coach says a few words, they hug some more (I’ve never seen so much affection at a sporting event), and then they form a tight circle for the final time. I lean in hoping to hear from the bleachers what their team cheer sounds like. The captain counts out slowly, oooonee, twwwwwo, threeeeeeee, and they all put their hands up together and grasp on for dear life. Then I hear them quietly, calmly, and completely together say a simple cheer…

ONE.

Now I’m totally beside myself in my mind. Their team cheer is mine. They don’t scream it. They don’t  exaggerate it. They simply attempt to say it and play it. Thanks, Coaches, Captains, and teammates for giving me a great example of what high performance looks like on a soccer pitch in Indiana. One. Yes, One. One is the heart of performance and ONE is the catalyst for transitioning well. Simple. Hard. ONE.

TALK about transitioning well….