Cameron plays for a club soccer team, the Utah FC. They played a tournament last week and Grandpa and I were on the sidelines for most of the games. Partway through the first game Grandpa began to empathize with the soccer ball. "That poor ball," he exclaimed as he watched 8 to 10 players converge with kicking feet on one soccer ball. A few minutes late he said, "That ball is saying, 'Help! Don't kick me!'" A little later he commented, "All those boys after that one little ball." The next day he continued to see the ball's point of view. Every time there was a mass of cleated feet kicking from all directions at once, he would laugh ruefully and make a comment. I must admit I've never watched a soccer game from the ball's point of view before. It's a different perspective to say the least. I wondered if Grandpa feels a bit like the soccer ball - shuttled here and there by those of us who care for him, without any sense of control over his circumstances. He's at our mercy and we jostle him around and then pass him off to another team member to run with him for a while.
And I would bet if he were stranded on a deserted island he would give his soccer ball a name too. (Go Wilson!)
Cameron's team won the tournament by the way. Here's the pics to prove it.
2 comments:
I like that you are so fond of Wilson. It cracks me up.
I love these stories about your dad. I think I told you I took care of Alzheimer's patients for years. You really wish you could crawl in their head sometimes and really see what they are thinking. And sometimes, they just tell you!
Post a Comment