My 6 year old had his first soccer game this weekend.

It’s the first organized sports that my kids have done. Well…that’s not exactly right – they’re both in karate lessons, and love it. That’s a little more of an individual thing, though. This is Max’s first team.

It’s a fun and silly league – they only had one practice, where they worked on some kicking and passing drills. Then they had their first game a few days later. Boy, was he excited. His team name is The Wizards, which he’s decided is the coolest name ever.

So Saturday morning, the whole family went to the school, where there were a bunch of games going on. Lots of parents sitting in lawn chairs along the sidelines, cheering for their teams, their kids. We found our spot, and joined in, enjoying an absolutely gorgeous Spring morning. When it was our team’s turn, we cheered and clapped and yelled “Go BLUE!!”.

Max is fast. That was plain to see early on – he could get to the ball as quick or quicker than most of the kids. However, like most of the kids, he was a little afraid of getting kicked by another player, or of having the ball hit him! Just kicking it was a joy for every one of them, though – didn’t matter that half the time it was the wrong direction, or to the other team, or out of bounds. He did wonderfully and even though his team lost he wasn’t a bit sad. To be honest, I’m a little unsure if he even realized they lost – his whole team was having so much fun it was hard to tell!

And I’m sitting there, watching, thinking “Here’s another one.” One more step in his life. One more milestone…it’s amazing to realize how many there have been, and even more amazing to think about how many more there are coming up for him.

How quickly our lives go.

I watched him, at the end of the game, run with the rest of the team to the center of the field. They lined up and high-fived the other team, the traditional “good game” being echoed up and down both lines as the tired, sweaty 6 and 7 year olds laughed and slapped hands.

Watching this, I was struck by the image of all the generations who came before theirs. All the boys who, for years, kept up the tradition of the “good game lineup” that teams do: a “congratulations, you got us” for one team, and a “nice effort, better luck next time” consolation for the other. Here he was, my son, taking his part in that long standing ritual. And I thought of me, years ago, doing it on a little league baseball field. And I thought of my son’s son, years from now, doing it with his team as Max watched proudly.

“Good game, good game, good game…”

Then he came running back, all out of breath and rumpled hair, and held out his fist to me. “Secret Handshake”, he said. And we did our secret handshake.

“Good game, buddy!”
“Thanks, Dad!”

And as the four of us held hands and headed for home I heard the phrase being repeated around the field.

“Good game, good game, good game…”

And they were right. It was a good game.

For all sorts of reasons.