Snapshots

Soccer: the players are so young that they still follow the ball in a tight group, like bees to honey. No, wait! A single player emerges from the mass, and as the ball and all the others move towards the goal on the left, this brave individual is running as fast as he can towards the goal on the right, lonely figure in the large field. His purpose is… very mysterious, since all the action is on the other side. Maybe he’s just running away from the ball. Oh, wait, I know this hair…it’s my son.

A few minutes later, he trips and falls in the middle of the field. He rolls on his back and suddenly sees the sky. He stretches comfortably, legs crossed, and hands behind his head and gazes upward, superbly oblivious to the thick pack of red-faced little boys running just past him with that stupid ball…

Horseback riding: perched on an English saddle, with a helmet that doubles the volume of his head and large green gardening boots, my son is riding that horse with the relaxed composure of an old cowboy. No, his position is reminiscent of something else…let me see… Legs extended forward, back slightly rounded, arms extended higher…I got it!  My son distinctly rides a horse like a Harley.

Tennis: children try to send balls back and forth. A little boy stands there expectantly... But my son is currently experimenting with the pull of gravity when one holds the ball up by nothing but the short yellow fur on it. Apparently, gravity is stronger then the short fuzz and the ball falls, but he doesn’t get discouraged and keeps trying with remarkable tenacity, while his opponent looks lonely and bored.

The coach makes a slow demonstration of the forehand movement. His back to him, my son is giving the (silent) show of a lifetime, dancing and jabbing away on his racquet-turned-guitar, in the best rock concert tradition.

You know, JUST because he vaguely looks like me doesn’t mean they didn’t make a mistake at the maternity ward.