There has been a shift between my oldest son and me. I’m not sure exactly when it happened but it most definitely has.
It used to be that I could, with ease, control the pace and tempo of our pick-up basketball games, carefully choreographing the final winning shot. And that winner and the final score was largely determined by me. Sometimes it was him, sometimes me. Sometimes it was close and other times a blowout. But it went according to my plan.
It all began a month or so ago. At first it looked just like every other game from summers before. The score was close – we were playing twos and threes to 21 – perhaps a little too close. As both teams approached the magic number of 21, I began to realize I would have to turn it up a notch if my younger son and I were going to beat my oldest son and his teenage cousin.
But it was too late. They had us, as I watched my son hit an unguarded three-pointer. I had practically taunted him to take the shot, knowing he’d miss. In my mind, this was just a slight miscalculation. I wanted to win the game. And I knew my younger son really wanted to put one on his older brother.
We were quickly offered a rematch from the gloating victors. No problem, challenge accepted. I would make a few adjustments and try a little harder. The second game would bring a different outcome.
I came out strong as my youngest son and I cruised to an easy and rather large lead. This one was. Almost. In. The. Bag… until it wasn’t. I had a couple of chances to put it away, but my shot didn’t fall and we lost, again. My youngest son wondered what had happened. He had assumed it was Guaranteed Victory Day and was now questioning why he had spent his number one draft pick on Dear Old Dad.
Pondering what had just happened, I reassured myself this had more to do with our respective teammates (my oldest son’s 16 year old cousin versus my 10 year old younger son) and that I could definitely take him in a game of one-on-one if I needed to. Yes, there was still order in the world.
It Happened Again
Lesson number two was right around the corner. We visited Arizona and hiked for three straight days at the Grand Canyon, Sedona’s Cathedral Rock, and Scottsdale’s Camelback Mountain. We had a blast together soaking in the amazing mountain views and big blue skies.
Day one, in the Canyon, I was on a pretty solid pace and at some point, between the altitude, dry air, and vertical climb, I called for a break. In the early going, both of us would look for shade, pause for thirty seconds, drink some water, and start in again. He would dutifully step in behind me as I led the way. About the third time, it happened.
“Dad, do you mind if I keep going? I’ll wait for you up ahead.” He said, more than asked. I popped up and agreed I didn’t need to stop either. At some point in time I quit fighting the inevitable. I was now following him. And so it went the remainder of the week. I realized a changing of the guard had begun.
I felt some very mixed emotions. I wasn't ready to admit that he might have overtaken me in some physical activities. I mean, I'm the D-A-D. I'm supposed to always be the faster one. The stronger one. The tougher one.
On the other hand, I was really happy to see the vigor and enthusiasm he displayed as he attacked the hills. It reminded me of a time gone by. Don't get me wrong. I was giving it my all as we worked our way through the switchbacks. But I soon gave in to reality and stopped trying to prove I was in better shape than I really was. I only wanted to finish. He and I had a different mission.
Maybe the proverbial changing of the guard wasn't so bad after all? I was proud of his competitive spirit and realized I probably had something to do with that.
I had a buddy, too. Through lots of exposure over the years, and something deep in his soul, he shared my love for the outdoors. I was no longer watching after him. We were friends sharing a moment.
Besides, you can't remain “king” forever. If you’re doing your job right, you’ll be bringing someone up to take your spot. It's supposed to happen this way, right?
And for all my self-pity, I’m not washed up just yet. I may not be able to dominate our contests like I used to, but I'm far from done!
What’s The Risk?
The risk is you may be unintentionally projecting your insecurities on your up-and-coming talents and in the process getting less than their best. You need to view a changing of the guard as a natural occurrence. I’d say it is proof you’ve done something right.
I know my son appreciates how I’ve reacted to the “beatings” he’s given me this summer. While he knows I was genuinely trying to win, he also would tell you no one has been a bigger cheerleader for him than me.
“Dad, you actually will stop playing in the middle of our games and show me how to defend the move you just used on me,” he said. “When we were hiking, sometimes you would go in front of me and show me the way. And other times you let me go in front. That’s how I learn.”
He continued, “If I thought you were truly mad at me for beating you, I would probably hold back and not try as hard.” Think about that for a minute.
Creating an environment where you cheer on your “Number 2” and perhaps (gasp!) position them to have your job someday is a mark of true leadership.
