It’s a beautiful fall afternoon: the sun is shining in an impossibly blue sky, the wind is whipping through the trees, and out on the field, six five-year-olds are chasing after a soccer ball. There’s my son, with the black “3” emblazoned on the back of his white jersey. You can tell which player he is, even without the number. He’s the one who follows the ball the full length of the (admittedly short) field, the one whose kicks always go in the direction of the right goal, the one who cares so hard about winning that he pushes himself through the whole game. His focus makes him stand-out in an age group where the players are as often seen twirling aimlessly at the wrong end of the field, stealing the ball from their own teammates, or climbing on the goal posts.
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