Dad, Be on My Team Tomorrow
Brian Armer
By the time Ben persuaded Dad to play goalkeeper, the backyard match already had a referee with questionable qualifications. Their pup, Murphy, had stolen the ball twice and showed no interest in explaining himself. Ben set two flowerpots six feet apart. “That’s your goal.” Dad looked at the narrow gap. “Generous.”
Dad had meant to watch from the patio. There was a chair waiting for him, and he had been on his feet since breakfast. But Ben had come through the kitchen holding the ball against his chest, asking whether he could play for just ten minutes. Not watch. Play.
The first shot rolled between Dad’s shoes. Ben threw both arms up. “You have to move!” “I was studying your technique.” The second went wide. Dad applauded it anyway, which Ben said was not how goalkeepers behaved.
Then came the shot Dad actually wanted to save. He lunged across the grass, caught the ball against his chest and landed with the satisfaction of a man expecting a stadium to applaud. Ben stared. “You’re allowed to do that?” Dad sat up. “I sincerely hope so.” Murphy arrived to inspect the ball.
Dad noticed the scrape on his hand when he stood. He went inside to wash and look after it, leaving Ben to negotiate possession with Murphy. From the kitchen window, he could see his son waiting between the flowerpots, holding the recovered ball. Ben wasn’t practicing shots. He was watching the back door.
When Dad came out, Ben hurried over. “We don’t have to do diving.” “Excellent news.” Ben moved one flowerpot closer to the other. Dad raised an eyebrow. “You’re making my goal smaller?” “So you don’t have to jump as far.”
They played standing up after that. Ben supplied the crowd noises. Dad supplied a goalkeeper who occasionally let in a shot while arguing with the crowd. When Murphy took possession again, they sat on the grass together and watched him celebrate.
“What’s the score?” Dad asked. Ben thought about it, then shrugged. “I forgot.” This from a boy who could remember a disputed goal for three weeks. Dad looked toward the empty patio chair. “Want me to keep score tomorrow?” Ben leaned against his shoulder. “Just be on my team.”
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