After a weekend out of town at my son’s soccer tournament, I’m a little tired of hearing, “Did you win?” It was, without question, the single-most popular question of the weekend. Even strangers in the hotel would ask my uniformed son, “Didja win?” And each time he would sadly reply, “No,” followed by an awkward silence.
For an 11-year-old boy who loves to win, it’s not easy, especially when you lose all three games. Especially when you drive 5 hours each way to make it happen.
O for 3.
And yet he and his teammates played so hard and so well. They did all that their coach asked them to do. They pressured the ball on defense. They stayed spread out. In particular, they passed the ball much better than all the other teams. They put together nice plays and took more shots than the other teams. They kept playing hard, giving their best – body, mind, and heart – even when knocked down over and over without a foul being called. Shot after shot would hit the goalposts or just miss the net. But then they’d give up a breakaway goal to the other team.