Time Is Fleeting

I’m not sure exactly where I first came across it, but I recently read that by the time our children turn 12, we’ve already spent 75% of the total time we’ll ever have with them. Fast forward to age 18, and that number grows to 90%. That statistic hit me hard. And when I think about my own two sons, who will turn 17 and 15 in just a few weeks, it sends shivers down my spine.

Sarah and I have always aimed to be intentional with our time as a family. Yet, I must admit, there were periods when I didn't prioritize them as I should have. Life has a way of presenting challenges that can divert our attention, and during those times, I sometimes placed my own needs and wants above those of my family. In turn, I wasn't as present as they deserved.​

Looking back, I realize how swiftly those moments passed and how precious they were. I find myself yearning to relive those days, to hear their laughter, to watch their games, to simply be there. While I can't turn back time, I carry those memories with me, and they serve as a poignant reminder to cherish every moment we have now.

Just last night, the three of us, Sarah, Giovanni, and I, snuck out for a quick evening round of golf (Rocco had soccer practice). As we made our way around the course, we noticed the club’s junior golf program was also out. Everywhere I turned, I saw flashes of the past: kids dressed in cute, trendy,  golf clothes, standing on greens and fairways, looking not all that different from my own boys at ages 6 and 8. Honestly, some of the outfits might’ve been the exact same ones.

Our Boys on the course, just 6 years ago.

Earlier that day, I had outlined the next several blog posts, and this was the topic I had queued up. The timing couldn’t have been more fitting.

Reflecting on those early days of junior golf and seeing where we are now, it's astonishing how swiftly the years have passed.

Before you know it you, find yourself questioning them about their style. But that's a post for another time.

Now more than ever, I find joy in the simplest interactions—and I’m genuinely thankful that our teenage sons still choose to share parts of their world with us. Whether it's Rocco unexpectedly coming home from school to catch a midday Champions League match, sharing a quiet ride up the ski lift, or the countless hours spent together in the car—driving to and from practices, or making those long hauls up and down the I-5 for weekend tournaments—these moments, though seemingly ordinary, have become the threads weaving our family's tapestry. They offer us a chance to connect, to listen, to laugh, and to simply be present with one another. They remind me to cherish the present, knowing how swiftly time moves.

So as I continue this grand experiment we call parenthood, here are some things that all of these experiences have taught me:

Find Joy in the Game, Not Just the Outcome

As I look back on those long drives and countless trips to and from the practice field, I realize how easy it is to get caught up in the scoreboard, the lineup decisions, or even how your child is playing. But every time I’ve yelled at a referee, fretted over a lost possession, or grumbled about a positional change, I’ve stolen moments from myself, and from my boys/players when all we needed was to simply soak in being together.

In the blink of an eye, I'm the shortest one in the family.

Think about those 4‑hour trips up the I‑5 for weekend games and tournaments. Yes, the wins felt great…and the losses stung. But tucked between the highlights were the real treasures:

Lately, I’ve learned to sit back and let the kids take over the soundtrack, handing over control of the playlist has become one of my favorite parts of our drives. It’s fascinating to watch their taste in music (or art, fashion, whatever they’re into) evolve; we’ve come a long way since the “What Does the Fox Say?” days. We also try to limit the use of headphones whenever possible, whether it’s diving into a shared podcast that sparks great conversation or simply chatting about life, anything but the game. 

And when a couple of teammates pile in, I love listening from the front seat as they riff on inside jokes, school drama, or whatever comes up; even better is hearing my sons talking to each other, those glimpses of their growing bond. 

As parents, and former coaches, it’s easy to slip into post‑game analysis mode, critiquing every pass or lineup decision. But I’ve found that saving those discussions for another time, on their terms, means they actually lean in when I do offer feedback. Those small moments of presence, laughter, and genuine connection? They’re what I’ll remember long after the final whistle blows.

Time is fleeting, so I’m choosing to leave the small frustrations behind and hold on to what truly matters.

Love the Player, Not the Performance

As I mentioned in my post “Your Words Matter,” it can be very confusing for a child when they feel your love, which really is what grounds them the most, is tied to their performance. In school, at home, on the field.

What I wouldn't give to bring this moment back.

I’ve learned that the most meaningful cheers aren’t for goals scored but for courage displayed, when a goalkeeper digs in, even after conceding dozens of shots, or when a center‑mid hustles back to help on defense. When we root for heart rather than stats, our kids feel our support unconditionally. That builds confidence and reassurance far more than any trophy.

So next time you feel the urge to question the coach’s choice or the referee’s whistle, pause, and trade that criticism for encouragement. A simple “I’m proud of how hard you played” or “That was a fantastic effort” costs nothing but gives everything.

Time is fleeting, so I always make sure our boys know, unconditionally, that we love them, no matter what.

Presence Over Perfection

It’s easy, as a parent and former coach, to get swept up in the heat of competition, questioning lineup decisions, second guessing the ref’s whistle, or worrying that my child isn’t getting enough touches on the ball. But every shout from the sideline steals a bit of magic from the moment: the sunshine on their faces, the sound of cleats on grass, the laughter of teammates sharing an inside joke. Rather than funneling energy into criticism, I’ve started reminding myself to channel that intensity into simple acts of support, high‑fives after a save, cheers for a brave challenge, or a quiet word of pride when the final whistle blows.

By shifting our focus from “How they played”  to being present and experiencing the moment, we teach our kids that sports are about growth, resilience, and joy, not just the score. In those long rides home, windows down, the playlist switched to their favorite tune, I listen for their triumphs and stumbles alike, knowing both are lessons worth celebrating. When I resist the urge to lecture about a missed pass or harangue a referee, I give myself and my boys permission to savor the simple gift of being together.

Because in the end, youth sports are just a snapshot in time of their childhood, one moment they’re tying their laces, the next they’re making their list of potential college visits.

Time is fleeting, and the real victory comes from choosing presence over perfection.