From Neighborhood Teammates to High School Rivals

For me, as a parent, watching Jesuit play Central Catholic tomorrow in the 6A boys' soccer championship game will be bittersweet, at best.

 

From second through eighth grade my son, Peter, and my wife and I were part of a shifting group of families who almost all lived within a couple of miles of each other in NE Portland, whose sons shared an unusual level of interest and skill in soccer.  As parents, we not only enjoyed watching our sons play, but we also became good friends.  There was always some turnover, but not much until they started playing classic soccer in grade five--essentially a year-round commitment.  Julius, our fastest player, decided to run track year round and has been very successful.  Sam, a fabulous midfielder and distributor, went off to become a star quarterback, just as I told his mother he would.  And some didn't leave by choice.  Classic soccer is like a family in which you get booted out if your son reaches puberty late or has a bad day during try-outs or there aren't enough players for two teams.  But other neighborhood players joined, and we had quite a cohesive and strong classic team by the time the boys were in eight grade, one that--in part because of the close relationships--was occasionally able to knock off the big suburban clubs that drew most of their players from across the Portland Metro Area rather than from two or three elementary schools.  Northeast United, our club, stopped at high school, but from a young age many of us had talked about our sons playing soccer together as young men in high school and club.  It hasn't turned out that way.  Most of the players and their parents headed to the big suburban clubs that we used to so relish beating, and the great majority of the young men divvied themselves up between three high schools: Grant, Jesuit, and Central Catholic.  Now juniors, there are three each on the Jesuit and Central Catholic varsity teams.  A few days ago, former NEU teammates also faced off when Jesuit played Grant.  Seeing each other at such events has become a bit like seeing someone you promised to go to college with, start a business with, or keep in touch with--but didn't.  There's a lot of history and warmth there; but time has intervened.

Does this much bother the young men?  I doubt it.  They are resilient, probably even take a little extra enjoyment in playing people they know well, especially when they win.

But it's hard on us parents.  While watching Henry lay the ball off to his midfielders I'll of course be hoping he makes a mistake while also remembering what an unselfish player he was even five, seven, nine years ago.  Mostly, I'll be thinking of how quickly everything changes.