Tiennot - Post 19- Plastics

"ALLEZ!"

The best advice I've ever gotten is actually a single word.

Go.  

Growing up, I played soccer. My dad, an avid enthusiast for the sport would drive me to practice, urge me to watch the premier league with him on Sunday mornings, and bundle up in his ridiculous Arsenal team coat for weekend games that were just a little too chilly. 

He was dedicated to the sport, at the time even more so than I was. But that's not what I remember. 

No, I remember running down the field on game days, shifting for a better position or taking on an opponent near the goal and waiting for the dreaded moment when my dad would scream,

"ALLEZ!" or "Go!"

I would wince... Every time, I would wince. His loud cry echoing over a mostly subdued gathering of parents and players. It was only the YMCA league. I was only 5 years old. Really, technically, I'm not even sure we were following enough rules to even call it soccer, but he would yell out that word every time. 

It never ceased to embarrass me. My cheeks would flush and my eyes would snap over to where my dad was sitting on the sidelines, wishing my gaze was sharp enough to pierce right through his non-apologetic grin. 

I suppose it's a parents job to embarrass their kid, but I never grew out of that grimace. Even now, when he comes to my high school games, I hear him yell out and I mentally kick myself for mentioning I had a game that day. 

Despite the embarrassment it causes me, I really do take his encouragement to heart. On the field, I push myself to be a little bit faster, a little bit stronger, to try just a little bit harder to block that shot or hold onto the ball. At school, I hear him echo in my head, pushing me to finish that last assignment, study for that physics test tomorrow, or email that teacher, despite any reluctance I feel. His words propel me forward past obstacles, and towards the things I really want out of life.

I think he does suspect, even as my face turns red and I beg him for the thousandth time not to call out from the sidelines, I think he does suspect that I appreciate his embarrassing cheer. It means he's there, and he cares. But it's also a reminder. To fight. To push. Just a little bit more. Because, if you really want it? You only have to work just a little bit harder.