05 Aug 2007, ST
By Mathew Pereira
I WAS watching one of those fun weekend adult-versus-youth football games about two years ago in which my sons Shaun and Marcus were playing when I noticed a skinny, lanky kid struggling on the pitch to keep up with the speed, agility and skill level of his teammates.
Not surprisingly, the teenager was replaced after a few minutes and was standing on the sidelines, sulking at being given such a brief outing.
This boy has always been a bit of a loner but I decided to walk up to him to keep him company. After all, the first conversation we had was when he stopped me abruptly one day to ask me about how newspapers got their news.
As soon as I pulled up to his side, he started complaining about being substituted so quickly, though he did concede that he was playing badly.
He usually plays better, he said, and started telling me about a game he had played for his class just a week earlier, proudly announcing: 'I scored two goals.'
Then suddenly he blurted: 'I wish my father had seen me.'
'I dribbled so well that day, I beat a few players and the goals were very nice goals.'
He repeated: 'My father should have seen me. I played so well.''
I have met this boy's father on two or three occasions. He is in his mid-40s and superfit. I know this because when I was introduced to him, he was in running shorts and singlet. He had just completed a 2.4km run in slightly over 10 minutes, an impressive time for a guy his age. He was apologetic about his sweaty hands and said: 'I just finished doing some trackwork.'
Now, normal human beings jog or run - only serious athletes call their training 'trackwork'. During that chat, he went on about youths today and how they didn't have the coordination and agility and strength of the older generation.
He had even pointed to his son as an example, adding that he would tell his son to play just to have fun.
Then it clicked. That boy, judging by the way he confided in me at the soccer game, obviously wanted to impress his father.
Yet, would the Dad have been impressed?
Because the event itself - an inter-class game - was quite insignificant.
That it was a mundane event did not matter to the teenager, though. Just the fact of his father coming down to watch would have made a difference to him.
Sadly, few parents I know go to watch their children play or perform in school. And even if they do, they usually save themselves for the big final game which, of course, often never materialises.
I react like most of these parents, too, waiting for the Big Occasion and letting other opportunities slip by.
When my son Shaun completed his basic military training recently, we went for a buffet meal to celebrate; time for the family to bond, I thought, well-meaningly.
However, at the buffet, we were all focused on getting our money's worth.
After the dinner, my three kids were too stuffed with food. They could either talk or breathe - not both.
So much for bonding.
Instead, the best times to bond have proven to be something I originally dreaded, fearing it would be a tiresome chore - the long drive on Sunday evenings every weekend to drop my son off at the Safti Military Institute for his training.
This is the camp he has been posted to after his basic military training for national service.
This 30-minute drive has turned out to be a delight.
During that slow drive, this NS-man son of mine holds court, telling me and his two teenage siblings about the week that had passed - the highs and the lows, his and his fellow trainees' blunders, the rewards and the punishment.
There are the occasional interjections from my two other kids: 'What!', 'Really?', 'Did he really do that?'
All three kids cackle away throughout the drive. Considering how often they squabble over the smallest of things, this is really something.
The hearty laughter, seeing them enjoying each other's company and my son returning to camp in such high spirits leave me with a wonderful feeling.
For me, it is a great way to end the weekend.
Often I make well-intended plans about how the family can take time out and go for a nice meal together, or go on holiday together at the end of the year.
But in waiting for that special occasion, countless other simple daily opportunities slip by. Now, with my son coming back from camp only on weekends, I realise the need to seize every opportunity I get.
Like the teenage boy who wished his father was at his class football game, and the Sunday evening trips to drop my boy off, these simple opportunities are so easy to miss.
It took my son going into NS for me to realise that.
By Mathew Pereira
I WAS watching one of those fun weekend adult-versus-youth football games about two years ago in which my sons Shaun and Marcus were playing when I noticed a skinny, lanky kid struggling on the pitch to keep up with the speed, agility and skill level of his teammates.
Not surprisingly, the teenager was replaced after a few minutes and was standing on the sidelines, sulking at being given such a brief outing.
This boy has always been a bit of a loner but I decided to walk up to him to keep him company. After all, the first conversation we had was when he stopped me abruptly one day to ask me about how newspapers got their news.
As soon as I pulled up to his side, he started complaining about being substituted so quickly, though he did concede that he was playing badly.
He usually plays better, he said, and started telling me about a game he had played for his class just a week earlier, proudly announcing: 'I scored two goals.'
Then suddenly he blurted: 'I wish my father had seen me.'
'I dribbled so well that day, I beat a few players and the goals were very nice goals.'
He repeated: 'My father should have seen me. I played so well.''
I have met this boy's father on two or three occasions. He is in his mid-40s and superfit. I know this because when I was introduced to him, he was in running shorts and singlet. He had just completed a 2.4km run in slightly over 10 minutes, an impressive time for a guy his age. He was apologetic about his sweaty hands and said: 'I just finished doing some trackwork.'
Now, normal human beings jog or run - only serious athletes call their training 'trackwork'. During that chat, he went on about youths today and how they didn't have the coordination and agility and strength of the older generation.
He had even pointed to his son as an example, adding that he would tell his son to play just to have fun.
Then it clicked. That boy, judging by the way he confided in me at the soccer game, obviously wanted to impress his father.
Yet, would the Dad have been impressed?
Because the event itself - an inter-class game - was quite insignificant.
That it was a mundane event did not matter to the teenager, though. Just the fact of his father coming down to watch would have made a difference to him.
Sadly, few parents I know go to watch their children play or perform in school. And even if they do, they usually save themselves for the big final game which, of course, often never materialises.
I react like most of these parents, too, waiting for the Big Occasion and letting other opportunities slip by.
When my son Shaun completed his basic military training recently, we went for a buffet meal to celebrate; time for the family to bond, I thought, well-meaningly.
However, at the buffet, we were all focused on getting our money's worth.
After the dinner, my three kids were too stuffed with food. They could either talk or breathe - not both.
So much for bonding.
Instead, the best times to bond have proven to be something I originally dreaded, fearing it would be a tiresome chore - the long drive on Sunday evenings every weekend to drop my son off at the Safti Military Institute for his training.
This is the camp he has been posted to after his basic military training for national service.
This 30-minute drive has turned out to be a delight.
During that slow drive, this NS-man son of mine holds court, telling me and his two teenage siblings about the week that had passed - the highs and the lows, his and his fellow trainees' blunders, the rewards and the punishment.
There are the occasional interjections from my two other kids: 'What!', 'Really?', 'Did he really do that?'
All three kids cackle away throughout the drive. Considering how often they squabble over the smallest of things, this is really something.
The hearty laughter, seeing them enjoying each other's company and my son returning to camp in such high spirits leave me with a wonderful feeling.
For me, it is a great way to end the weekend.
Often I make well-intended plans about how the family can take time out and go for a nice meal together, or go on holiday together at the end of the year.
But in waiting for that special occasion, countless other simple daily opportunities slip by. Now, with my son coming back from camp only on weekends, I realise the need to seize every opportunity I get.
Like the teenage boy who wished his father was at his class football game, and the Sunday evening trips to drop my boy off, these simple opportunities are so easy to miss.
It took my son going into NS for me to realise that.
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