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Date: 26 Dec 2006 6:54 pm
The Championship Game
There are many lessons in life that we must learn, not by being told about the way something is, but by truly experiencing it for ourselves. This can be love, the loss of pets, and winning, or losing “The Championship Game”.
For a six year old it becomes a difficult time when the reality of losing “The Championship Game” becomes a reality. All season long they have worked so hard in hopes of being a “winner” in the end, but the truth that someone will win, while there will also be a “loser” has to be acknowledged, and excepted, regardless of the effort put forth toward the final goal.
For my six year old, it came to pass this year. The clock had wound down to the final minutes of the game, and the excitement of being victorious rushed through his body with glee. But when the clock had counted down through it’s final minute, the reality laid before him was that of unchangeable truth. He was not the winner this time.
The truth tore through his very soul. There was desperation, without a tear, as he swore from his heart that he really did try his best, and thought that he played the game as well as anyone could have played, or what could be expected from someone his age. He acknowledged that the defeat was his, and that next year he would try even harder, although he did not know how to do it better than he had; as he thought that he did everything right, or right enough to be a winner in the end.
As he caressed the scorecard laying the on the floor in front of him, with me standing by his side, there was no doubt that the score was real. He held it in his hands as though he may find an answer; “maybe there was a mistake” he thought out loud. He ran his fingers over the card until his little fingers became blackened; but it was all so real.
The quiet acceptance was difficult at best for the young man. Even a kind word from his Dadda, that he thought that the younger one played the game well, and with all his heart, brought only mild comfort to the fact that the scoreboard showed that the final score was real.
I persuaded him to come with me as we washed our hands, although the hollow in heart could still not be cleansed away with the water that cleaned his hands. After helping him dry them, we walked back to the field where his soul had been stripped, while still not a tear was shed, as he was the one “responsible" for such a catastrophic loss.
Feeling the desperation in his heart, I did the only thing a parent could do at a time such as this; when I embraced him tight in my arms, and whispered quietly in his ear, “This stocking full of coal isn’t really yours at all. You have been a wonderful little boy all year long. I filled the extra stocking with coal and put it here in front of the fireplace so you would only think it was yours. Then I hid the one full of gifts that Santa really brought for you over behind that chair!”
(Side note: Yes, that's how it really happened... Bad Dadda! He also asked me if he could keep the coal anyway, followed by saying " I know somebody who will be getting it back next year!" :wink: )
Date: 26 Dec 2006 11:32 pm
And now that all of you are probably thinking "Walt is some !@#$%", I can tell you the ending to the story...
After the realization that he had been fooled by old Dadda, he turned to me and said, "Dadda, you really had me going. I thought Santa saw me wrapping up that empty bottle last night, that is under the tree for Momma when she comes down to open her gifts, and wouldn't know that I did it just as a joke!"
(I didn't tell him that Santa was watching all right... but we'll keep that between you and me :wink: )
I hope all of you had a very Merry Christmas, and that God blessed you all with great joy.
Walt