My son scored his first goal this weekend. It wasn’t a break away or some beauty top shelf shot, but his stick touched the puck last before it went in the net of the opposing team. It counts. If they were keeping stats, he would have got his points for it.
Here’s the thing, the strongest players on his team spent two entire games trying to set him up to tap that puck in. He scored in the last shift of the second game. There were at least a dozen attempts before, by the grace of the universe, it finally went in. For a second, we weren’t even 100% sure it was his to claim. But it was. He got one in.
We celebrated hard. All the parents did. There were tears and phone calls to grandparents and twenty bucks slipped into his pocket from a secret deal he had with dad.
I watched other parents over the tournament weekend see their kid get their first goals too. They were so happy. Some with tears in their eyes. Lots of cheering. It is a big moment for all parents. But, quietly, in the stands I realized that for their kids, this will be the first of many. Their kid felt the rush and is now hungry for more. Capable of more. For some of those kids, they got a few more that tournament, now that they knew just how.
This is one of those silent moments where two feelings collide. Where the celebration is mixed with a tinge of grief too. Where the elation is also wrapped in a thin layer of sadness that there might not be many more moments like this one for us, so we really need to take it in.
My son, without a lot more coaching and the help of other kids, won’t likely be scoring his second goal for quite some time. That’s ok. It’s not, for me, about scoring or winning or being the best. But as we celebrate, it also hits home that this maybe wouldn’t be SUCH a big deal, if he didn’t have to work as hard as he does to just barely keep up. These kids, the ones who spent two games setting him up to just barely tap it in, they aren’t way older, they are just stronger. Their bodies do what they want them to. They don’t have to work so hard to just show up. I’m eternally grateful for them, because they are the only reason he got his first goal. I’m also sad that he will likely always need that level of support to do something other kids on his team will do several times a game.
I don’t know if there will be another goal, or another season, or another opportunity where all the parents are celebrating my kid. So for now, behind tear filled eyes, alongside excitement, thrill and heartache, we will celebrate our son, like he just scored a game winning goal!
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