An Ode to My Sons and Soccer

Meredith Frediani reflects on the joy of learning from her sons and sharing a common interest.

The World Cup was a magical 39 days this summer. I read a newspaper article headlined “How the U.S. Lost the World Cup — and Won Over the World.” I saw videos of people from around the world discovering how great our country is and, in turn, bringing their national pride to our shores. The Scots put orange traffic cones on statues and played their bagpipes as they walked to Fenway Park for a baseball game. The Dutch brought over their big orange bus and drove it across the country, and Boston ran out of beer.

We cheered for the 40-year-old goalkeeper of Cape Verde who heroically took his team further than they thought possible in their first time at the tournament. We learned how to row like Norwegians — and the city of Lawrence, Kansas, where the Algerian team was housed, rolled out their red carpet and became fans. For five and a half weeks the world celebrated together, and I had an image of God smiling down as His children played. I believe it brought Him joy.

The Beautiful Game

One of the things that struck me most — which is also one of the reasons I love soccer — is that we as a nation were reminded that people from other countries are people too. We are isolated over here, and it is easy to forget the humanity of those who live far away. They cease being actual humans and instead become names: French, Germans, Egyptians, Ivorians, the Austrians or the Mexicans; the Paraguayans or the Argentinians. We call them by their country and they stop being people.

When the World Cup happens, we are brought together by the one sport played all over the world, whether it’s an English stadium where it all began, or a dusty field in Africa. We see each other as humans, worthy of respect and loaded with dignity. I don’t know one single thing about what daily life is like in Japan but after seeing a Japanese fan, his face full of happiness, say that he doesn’t speak English but he’s excited, I see that he, like me, loves this game.

Learning From My Boys

But this is just a happy consequence in my life. The beginning of my love for soccer and the joy I feel every four years when there is a World Cup goes back twenty years when my son started playing soccer. A few years later, his brother followed along and in the ensuing years, our family spent many, many hours on the side of soccer fields in sun, rain, wind, and snow watching and learning.

Thanks to those two boys, now men, I can confidently explain the offside rule, why stoppage time is a thing, and what FIFA stands for. My love for the beautiful game is genuine but it was born of my love for my sons. Soccer is something they love and when they were younger — especially in those middle- and high-school years — it was a way for me to connect with them. Most pre-teen and teenage boys aren’t interested in having conversations with their moms. At that stage in their lives, I existed to feed them, wash their clothes, and nag them into civility. We didn’t chat over coffee about feelings.

But when I heard, “Mom, Liverpool play at 6 am on Saturday” it was an invitation I heeded. Those early mornings found us on the couch in our jerseys. With coffee in hand, I judiciously asked questions and carefully listened. Inside his comments, I learned about my son. I gleaned information about his moral compass by what he liked or didn’t like about players and teams.

Waking up early on a Saturday morning to watch Liverpool with my son was never a sacrifice. It was an opportunity to not only connect with this kid I adore, but to allow him to teach me. For so long as parents, we are the knowers of everything. It’s humbling to not know why that particular tackle was a foul and the difference between a free kick and a corner kick (besides location). I think it’s good for parents to let our kids be the experts sometimes and enter into their world and learn.

Had my boys not played soccer, I’d never have learned about this beautiful game and I’m thankful to them for letting me share this with them and their patience in explaining the rules. My oldest won our World Cup bracket pool this year and I tied for second with my youngest. I’d say they are pretty good teachers.

2026 Fasting Experiment Update: 

The July fast was from M&Ms. The 2:00 M&M snack had expanded into the 11:00 am M&M snack in addition to the 2:00. Control was being lost. I’m happy to report that the fast wasn’t as painful as I expected but I did look at the M&M container wistfully a few times.

The August fast was from ice cream, and as expected, was a challenge. Sometimes, though, a challenge is just what is needed. When my daughter brought over Drumsticks, I sorely wanted one but, the Lord in His goodness, gave me the grace to resist. Twice.

September’s fast is from beer. We are in the waning days of summer so I expect I’ll feel the fast, but I can do hard things!

Share your thoughts with the Catholic Mom community! You'll find the comment box below the author's bio and list of recommended articles.

Copyright 2026 Merridith Frediani
Images: (top, center) Canva; (bottom) copyright Jim Harwood, used with permission, all rights reserved.