There are few things I enjoy more than a, "hey Dad, wanna go throw around the lacrosse ball?" It's a double benefit to me: 1- it says they still like me and 2-says that this game means something to them (something I worked really hard at as a coach). So yay for me.So he runs down to the HS and I drive. We toss the ball around on slightly damp grass in the fading sunlight, closing out a fun weekend (Ian ran XC in cromwell, boat got docked for the winter). It was a nice quiet time with nothing but the sound of strings and ball working together and idle chit chat of a father and son.
And there it was - it occurred to me about 2/3 of the way through: he's better than me. His passing and catching have surpassed my ability. He throws hard and accurate and his moves are more fluid.
Yes, I am an out-of-shape old man. Yes, I've not played competitively since the 90s. Yes, I taught him everything I know, so I should be proud (and part of me is), but my head drops in lament that he has overtaken me.
Maybe I could get back into shape, throw the ball more, find a wall, start a pick up game. Sure, but Ian's still on the upswing - he'll only get better with time.
My knees and back (boat and hurricane prep at the Yacht Club) remind me I've not seen that upswing in a decade.
Wear the crown with pride Ian.
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