Father-Daughter Bonding A La Women's Professional Soccer

Bridgeview, Ill.:    Aug. 2 was a sad day for me. It was the final home game of the Chicago Red Stars' inaugural WPS season at Toyota Park.

It was sad for a number of reasons. It was sad because the team had not met expectations for this season. It was sad because one of the benefits of being a part of a new league is that you get more personal access to players and staff. 

It felt like a family reunion at every game. And now, it's over until next year.

But it was also sad because going to the games with my 12-year-old daughter, Marivi (pictured above with Chicago Red Star Megan Rapinoe in the Stadium Club, post-game), has been a fantastic bonding experience for us.  

Now, it's not as if we needed to work on our relationship. We were already very close. She's a Daddy's girl, and proud of it.

But there was something different and deeper about this shared experience that gave an extra layer of texture, an extra level of depth to an already great father-daughter connection.

To a large extent, perhaps, it was that in this experience, Marivi became a soccer fan.

I've been a fan all my life. I did my best to inculcate Marivi from the time she was old enough to kick a soccer ball. But it didn't take.

Sure, she played recreational soccer for a couple of years but when she had to choose between soccer and poms, it was no contest. Poms in. Soccer out.

I accepted that. I lived with it. It was hard. It hurt. But it's her life. And, as a loving Dad, I want her to find her own passion. So that was OK.

Then, this Spring, she had an opportunity to play soccer for her school. We talked about it and I came out of the conversation thinking she wanted to try soccer again since she had some friends on the team and there was no other sport for her to play at school at her level, in the Spring.   

So, you can imagine my surprise and disappointment when, two weeks into it, Marivi told me she was not having fun, she was not doing well, and she wanted to quit.

I started to give her the usual lecture about finishing what you start, but she stopped me. "I only did it because I wanted to make you happy, Dad. I really don't like it."

Whoa! Then by all means. Quit. Quit now. End of story.

But maybe not.

As we began attending Red Stars games together (which she was happy to do, just to be with me), Marivi began making comments about the play on the field, the referee's calls, particular players, etc. and unless I was imagining it, she was really into the games. I didn't say a word, just relished it for a while.

But, after a few games with Marivi making very intelligent comments about the play by play, I told her it was obvious she had learned the game quite well during those two weeks of practice. She agreed.

We started talking about her favorite players. She told me she really likes Megan Rapinoe, Natalie Spilger, and Brittany Klein, for whom she has her own nickname, "Little Girl."

"That's it, Little Girl," she'd shout every time Midfielder Klein did something special, which was hundreds of times each game.

"So...." I began one day as we were sitting in our fantastic season seats. "Are you re-thinking your decision to play soccer?" 

"Yeah, I might be," she said.

I purposely under-reacted, but felt very satisfied that one of my objectives for making Marivi my season ticket mate was that she would see these great, talented, women athletes as heroes and role models, seemed to be achieved.

And the season progressed. She was more and more into it, with each game.

As the Red Stars losing streak continued to extend, Marivi said, as we took our seats for the Washington match July 1, "If we don't win this game, I'm gonna kill myself."

That gave me goosebumps. She really is into it. And I didn't push her. I just brought her along, hoping she'd catch the bug.

Of course, she is at the age when the threshold for embarrassment is extremely low. So just because she's into it, doesn't mean she wants her Dad to jump and scream and sing during the games.

I'd get a little too carried away and she'd gently tap my shoulder and give me that look. If you have pre-teens, you know what I'm talking about. 

It's the look that has a slight hint of smile with a rather disdainful stare and you know you've crossed the line into public humiliation of your middle-schooler.

But that was part of the bonding experience also. At one point she followed that look by saying, "Dad, if you weren't so weird, you wouldn't be such a good Dad."

And then it happened. "Dad?" She asked at one of the last games of the season. "If I play soccer next year, will you buy me one of those cool Puma balls like they use at games here?"

"Absolutely!" I said.