Dad

Honestly, his team wasn’t the best in the world. My dad’s team got knocked out first day although he performed well. Yet he was destined to sit and watch the rest of the competition. A team must take the result as one despite individual glories.

It was a 5 vs. 5 competition played in a gymnasium. Unfortunately, the gymnasium floor had been washed a day or two before, and it had become humid enough that the floor shone with the slickness of a hint of water. It was as slick as a patch of black ice.

The floor claimed at least one victim during the games, and soon the respective team was in a fix. They needed a goalie or they lost the games. The coach called them all together.

“Obviously,” he began, “we need a goalie. I’ve been looking at some of the matches from yesterday, and there was a really good one, even if his team did get eliminated.”

And so it was that the Croatian team came to my father and asked him if he would help. My dad said da, “yes” in Serbo-croatian. It was an oppurtunity to play! How could he not? Besides, he spoke the same language so there would be no communication issues, and they did desperately need a goalie. Without a goalkeeper, a team’s defense crumbles. When no foot can block a ball, it’s the hand of the goalie that turns it.

And so the competition came and my dad was subbed on. The floors were much better the second day, and my father immediately turned his gaze to await the first flight of the ball.

 It wasn’t long before he had a problem: his teammates…or the lack thereof. Often it has been said of goalkeepers that theirs is a solitary position, but never was it meant to be singular! Yet my dad only saw the three attackers moving the ball steadily towards him and no Croatians in sight.

He had no choice. He made himself as big as possible, but the attacker merely passed the ball, and it was tapped into the goal before he could reposition himself. My dad gritted his teeth, retrieved the ball, and refocused. They were just getting warmed up to what they were doing.

Well, that’s easy to believe until it’s a consistent problem. And, of course, when a goal is conceded, the goalie gets the blame. My dad tried to ignore the dark stares from his new teammates or the scowl from the coach. But Jordan Pickford of England can only yell at defenders if he has defenders to yell at, and so it was with my father. No defenders except him, and when it was three versus one, what was he to do?

At half-time, the coach came up to him.

“Are you sabotaging us?” he demanded sternly.

“Ne!” my father exclaimed, which is “no” in Serbo-croatian. But he held his tongue about the problem with the defense.

His teammates were none too pleased with him, and he none too well pleased with them. He couldn’t do all the work! It didn’t matter how hard the Croatian strikers worked, my father was still back at the goal three vs. one, conceding goals and trying desperately not to.

Finally, at the end of a defeat, the team gathered back to watch the video of the game. My father was burning, especially whenever a hateful glance came towards him. What had he done except try?

At one especial point in the game, the coach’s eyes were caught. My father, pitted against several attackers, was in the middle of making another failed save. What caught the coach’s eye was…

Where’s the rest of my team?

It wasn’t a bad question, and about 10 seconds after the ball had flown through the goal a Croatian defender finally waltzed into the view of the camera. After they were done watching the match, the team got it resolved with my dad. There was nothing he could’ve done except what he had done, and when the other team had 1 to 3 more options open to pass to, there was little else that could be done.

Thus ended the Croatian team’s career in that tournament, but may we all learn a lesson from them: things are not always as they seem, and let us not be quick to assume that a problem—or even a failure—is another’s fault. Also, support each other.