Parshat Lech Lecha: My Father Never Took Me to Soccer Practice

This week I took my grandson, Benji who is 6 years old, to his soccer program. His parents couldn’t so they turned to me. It takes place at an indoor soccer facility nearby. It’s not a regulation size soccer field, but more like the size of a hockey rink, maybe even a bit smaller. 

There were about 10-12 kids in the hour-long program. Most of them seemed to be Jewish/religious and judging by the amount of Hebrew being spoken, of Israeli parents. I would like to brag that I am a really dedicated Zeida but truth be told, I didn’t stay for the entire hour. I was there for the first 20 minutes or so, and told Benji that I would zip over to Aish nearby to daven Mincha/Maariv and be back a little before it was over. 

I did get to watch some of the drills and warm-up exercises. It was the first time that I have seen 6 year olds doing planks. I guess that is how you get those washboard abs. Start ‘em when they’re young. 

On the drive home I asked Benji if they played a match. They did. 

“Who won?” I asked. The other team. 

“What was the score?” 2-1.

“Did you score?” Yup, he did. He got the only goal for his team. Nice. 

After I dropped him off and as I drove home, I thought to myself – my grandfather never took me to a soccer practice. And actually neither did my father. He never took me to soccer practice. Nor to a hockey practice. Or a baseball practice. He never even watched when we played road hockey in front of our house. 

My father never took us to a hockey game either. Certainly not to see The Toronto Maple Leafs and not even to the farm team, The Toronto Marlies on Sunday afternoons. The only sporting outing I can recall with him was an exhibition soccer match, and the only reason we went was because it was an Israeli team playing. 

Do I resent this? No, not the least. Some would, I do not. Some might even spend lots of money and time with a therapist, lamenting the fact that their father never played ball with them, or came to watch them play, or did any of these sort of things that Dads often do with their sons. Not me. No therapy, no latent anger or hurt.  

Why? For a couple of reasons. Firstly, my father worked very hard. He used to get up at 4:00 in the morning to be at the meat-packing plant he ran which started early. And before that, he was hardly home because he was busy running his store that, back in those days, sold everything from meat to dairy goods to everyday items. The same with my grandfather who had a scrapyard and 7-11-type variety stores. The simple fact of the matter is that they just didn’t have the time for these sort of things. 

And the other reason I don’t feel resentful is because soccer or hockey or baseball was just not part of their world-view or life. My father did not have any experience with sports growing up in the small town of Staszow, Poland. There were no Staszow Stingers weekly matches. Against whom? The Białystok Bruins? The Vilna Vipers? Didn’t exist. No, the only game is town was trying to put food on the table. That was it. Whatever entertainment and leisure they may have had would have been Shabbos and holidays. Sports? There probably wasn’t a soccer ball to be found in the whole town! 

I am not only not resentful, but quite grateful. Because of my father’s hard work and dedication, he paved the way for financial comfort for his children’s families that still resonates to this day. The main reason I have the time today to take Benji to soccer practice, or to have taken my kids to so many Florida Panthers games, is precisely because of the fact that he didn’t have the time for me or my brothers when we were younger. He and my mother, as well as my grandparents, worked so hard to ensure that their children and grandchildren should have an easier life than they had growing up. A life where we would not need to slave so many hours at work. 

And so on that drive home, I didn’t bemoan that what I did for Benji wasn’t done for me. No, instead I think that it was only because it was not done for me that I can now do these things for my children and grandchildren. And not just soccer practice but the more important things in life like spending time with them in shul, studying Torah with them or enjoying a Sukkah, Shabbat or holidays with them. 

Whenever I do these activities with the kids or grandkids, I realize it isn’t only me spending time with them, but my parents and grandparents as well. They are right there with me, looking over my shoulder, watching Benji, or Eliyahu or Avigail or Meni or Maya or… Don’t resent what your parents did not, or could not, have done for you. Instead just say thank you. And in your mind’s eye, bring them along with you when you’re with your kids or grandkids.    

Will Benji play for the Gunners? (Who are the Gunners? Ask his English Bibi.) Probably not. But who cares. The main thing is that I got to spend some time with him, watch him do some planks, dribble the ball and hear how he scored the lone goal for his team. And for that I just look up and say, “Thanks, Dad.”

My son turned ten just the other day
He said, “Thanks for the ball, Dad, come on let’s play
Can you teach me to throw?”
I said “Not today, I got a lot to do”
He said, “That’s okay”

And the Cat’s in the Cradle and the silver spoon
Little boy blue and the man on the moon
When you comin’ home, Dad
I don’t know when, but we’ll get together then
You know we’ll have a good time then
-Harry Chapin