My Dad

For a man that always seemed so simple, it always amazed me that my relationship with my dad felt so complicated. 

There are things about my dad that will always be a mystery to me. I accepted that long ago, and as I sit here writing this I am grateful. Grateful that there came a time where I stepped into the right of passage as an adult where the recognition unveiled itself that my dad is not just my dad, but another human being with hopes, dreams, disappointments, deficiencies, capabilities and incapability’s. I learned long ago, the thing I think is a gift  – that my dad loved me and always did the best he could. I learned that you get one dad, and he was mine. 

Our relationship like any, evolved over time. But when I think about the majority of my life, the feeling I always got from my dad was that he saw me as “his kid.” I always felt so claimed by my dad. As strange as that sounds, it’s one of the best verbs I can use to articulate how I felt. I always knew how proud my dad was of me – no doubt, embarrassing at times, but as I look back, I know that my dad was truly my biggest fan. 

I will miss the way his eyes lit up when we talked about the things he loved – soccer and fishing. 

I don’t know many people quite as animated, enthusiastic or as passionate as my dad. Any time in my life that I’ve been asked to describe him, I’ve been lost for words, because my dad is the kinda guy you just have to meet. When he told a story or gave instructions on the soccer field, it made a lasting impression.  

It’s no secret that soccer was inseparable from Charlie Myers. Soccer was something we shared, and I am so grateful I got to share that with my dad. I didn’t always show my dad the same respect – you know how that goes – kids know better. But I think, he knew that I thought he was the best too. He was simple, effective, always got results, and knew how to win. That was the thing that still makes me laugh from time to time – my dad always found a way to win. 

He not only impacted my entire life as a player, he impacts it as a coach and trainer, and I know that I will hear him every time I step on a field and will remain impacted by him for the rest of my life. Funny, my first season of collegiate coaching, and the thing I hear myself saying is what I have heard him say my whole life “can they head a ball?” Anyone that knew Charlie, knew there was no one like him in the air. I think anyone that ever trained with him will forever hear  “quick, quick, quick” or “fast, fast, fast,” when they see a soccer ball. 

Every player my dad worked with was the only player he ever worked with. When you had your hour and half with Coach Charlie, he was going to try and make you the best player out of Baltimore. There was no slacking, no dismissal of detail, and no time for anything other than work. One thing about my dad, if you were going to do it, you were going to “do it right.” He took pride in everything he did. 

In adult years, I look back and see that my dad, a former professional soccer player, went to work in a factory for 20 years, when my sister and I were little. I remember him going to night shifts when I was about 3 or 4. He later worked his way up to management, but I think about that sometimes – how much I know he hated it, and how much he wanted to be on a soccer field, but how much he believed it was his job to go do the “responsible thing” and provide for his family. I have always admired that about my dad, especially knowing that he was the epitome of “soccer is life.”

 I’ll always remember his brawn – big and strong – I always felt like that was his superpower. 

I will miss talking soccer with my dad – hearing about the big fish he caught that day, or just being entertained (and also at times horrified) by the things he would say. 

I wish so bad that you had years left to kick and throw a ball with my son. I never imagined you wouldn’t be on the sidelines with me next to you saying “Dad, be quiet!” I will mourn the loss of that. I’m not sure how I will be able to describe you to him – thank God I have videos. 

What I do know is that your eyes will light up when you see him enter the world like they did with me. I know I will hear you calling him “Pal” and chuckling at the cute and crazy things he will do, and I’m sure I will have many moments where he will do things that I stop and think “I wish Pop were here.” I promise, I will put a ball at his feet and tell him to dribble around the coffee table, and then tell him to “rewind the other way and use the other foot,” as soon as he can walk. 

I love you, Dad. Thank you for everything – the good was good, and the bad made me better for it. I hope you’re at peace – I’ll miss you.