One of the more enjoyable experiences I have each fall is watching my three children play soccer. To see their growing skills and love for the game is truly a blessing. I can now confess, however, that I could have made it even more fun for both them and for me had I been a little bit more relaxed and far quieter on the sidelines. You see, until recently, I was your typical loud and obnoxious soccer dad. In the last few years, I have learned a few hard lessons that have put me on the path to recovery.

My kid's not Pele and that's ok. I am a sports fan. I have watched a lot of college and pro sports on TV. Yet until soccer I did not watch much youth sports. The difference is appalling. I used to whine, groan and throw up my hands with every mistake the players made.

I now realize how silly I was acting. First, these kids are just . . . well . . . KIDS! They are changing both mentally and physically every week. Of course they are going to make mistakes on the field that's how they learn to play the game. They felt bad enough kicking at the ball and missing; you can imagine how they must have felt to hear me moan about it.

Second, my kids probably inherited the same athletic ability that I have. To be blunt, they likely will not be professional athletes. I cannot hold them to the same standards I might hold Mia Hamm or Cobi Jones. I am learning to put my expectations in perspective and enjoy the game for what it is: recreational youth soccer.