Nevius: It’s not a big deal, dad

Happy Father’s Day. And congratulations dads. There is no more noble and honorable calling than to be a father. It is the most meaningful and important thing I ever did.

And that’s why I’m here, as a public service. I am the ghost of Father’s Day Future, here to tell what things look like after the soccer games — when the kids are adults.

What I am going to say may take you aback a bit. But I really think it is true. Here it is:

It is not that serious.

Not fatherhood. That is dead serious. Geez, if you wanted to create a model to produce worry, second-guessing, tears, anger and regrets, you couldn’t beat being a dad. (Or mom for that matter.)

And I would just say, speaking from the future, you will remember these days in little flashbulb moments. Some so inconsequential you’ll wonder why that memory stuck.

So just unsolicited advice — any time you are thoughtful and generous and understanding, that will pay off. Every time. So if you can, I’d do as much of that as possible.

I am talking about sports.

(Those families who are doing Band Camp are allowed to take the rest of the column off, although I hear that can be pretty intense too.)

And just to make it clear, I have been there. I have stood on the sideline, literally holding my breath, watching the time on the scoreboard or the ball headed toward the net.

And if I had it to do over, I’d still encourage sports. They were a good social setting, for our kids and for us. It gave us something to look forward to and filled up the weekends.

And I was definitely involved. I was a volunteer timer, set up chairs and helped coach. We did the snacks and sat in bleachers at high schools all over the East Bay.

Looking back, it is kind of amazing how much time we devoted to kids’ sports. Between that and work, it was almost all we did.

Which seems 100 years ago. We remember those flashbulb moments, but if you asked me to tell you the score of games or how anyone placed in the IM, I couldn’t do it.

And that’s what the Ghost of Father’s Day Future is here to say. I know this all seems vitally important now.

It is not.

Not that I understood back then. I had a little suggestion about arm position on the backstroke. I wondered aloud if anyone had considered the benefits of switching the field in soccer. You know, helpful stuff.

And although I don’t think I was horrible — when we saw a mom slap her young swimmer, we knew we were in another league — I certainly could have been better.

And it wasn’t as if I didn’t get plenty of suggestions. Generally they ran to two words — zip it. Mostly I did. I wasn’t screaming at the ref — except for that one time when she clearly got back onside before scoring.

Overall I eventually tried to take it less seriously. My little joke when we lost was, “I blame the parents.” Sometimes people laughed.

But I would just say I have seen dads that go over the line. Dads who are screaming at their kids “to make them better.” To push and push and push until playing that sport is the last thing they want to do.

And that’s a flashbulb moment that kid will carry for life. The anger, but mostly the fact that they disappointed you. Their dad.

What you will come to realize is that there are thousands and thousands of schools and traveling teams and tryouts. In almost every case, your kid is going to find that they can’t coast along on whatever random ability they happened to inherit.

Some of them just drop out. Which is really the best outcome. It was fun, but now it’s over. End that chapter and start to think about being an adult.

Or they may commit. They realize they have to build on their natural ability. They are going to have to drill, run sprints and lift weights. They are going to have to really, really want to do this. Not you, dad. Them.

And the crusher is they barely have a chance. Just getting a college scholarship is a long, long shot. Making a team at that level, playing significant minutes — an even longer shot. Going pro — now you’re talking moon shot. Minor League baseball? Sure, they can join (literally) 5,000 minor league players for a shot at the show.

If they make it, it is a miracle. Congratulations. But the overwhelming number fall short. And we should say good for them for reaching for the stars, and no judging that they didn’t get there.

It’s not that important.

Today when we get together with our adult kids we talk about jobs and holidays and new dogs. Both still enjoy sports and are active and fit.

We talk sports sometimes, but when I go too far and start to launch into one of the old favorites, I’m politely shut down.

That was a long time ago. Now we are on to other things.

It wasn’t that important.

Contact C.W. Nevius at cw.nevius@pressdemocrat.com. Twitter: @cwnevius