I don’t know how I can feel so good after a physically punishing loss. I watched my team play with all the heart in the world tonight. Down three goals at half time, no one was barking at each other. We knew the mistakes we had made, but we plotted a course to victory. We kept our heads up, found a deeper fight, and believed we could dig our way out of the deficit.
Mary helped me manage the team and knew the players. I’d come home and be able to share with her how proud I was of folks who had been playing longer than me as well as the gal who only took the sport up a few months ago. Mary protected my time for soccer, she knew better than I how important it was for me. She came to most games and always wanted to hear about the ones she missed.
It’s still the only place I can consistently get out of my own head. It holds a magic for me. I was blessed by my grandfather when he brought it into my life and I’ve been blessed by God with the ability to continually play and improve in the sport, while letting it improve me as a man.
God bless and thank you for reading,
Jason