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There is a new father at soccer practice.
There is a new father at soccer practice, and Clive has never seen so many moms at their games before. Soccer games on Saturday seemed to be an established dad thing. Sure, the moms might be the ones to wash the jerseys and clean the shoes, but the dads were the ones who stood on the sidelines every weekend, watching their kids chasing the ball over the pitch and providing mostly unhelpful commentary. It felt like the one thing every dad, no matter how busy with work or whatever, wouldn’t miss. And simultaneously, like the one day, the moms would claim happily for themselves.
But now, everything has changed. Because now there is a new dad, and all bets are off.
It started a few weeks ago. That’s when the guy turned up with an adorable nine-year-old with brown, wild curls on his head.
“Hey, I’m Mav,” he said when he introduced himself with a firm handshake and a bright smile, his sunglasses shoved into his tousled hair, and then gestured to the kid, half hiding behind him. “And this little guy is Bradley. His friend Jay from school, plays on your team, yeah? And so he wanted to give it a go.”
Clive, who has trained this team since his own son Andy started playing two years ago, blinked. Because, firstly, what kind of a name is Mav? And secondly, was this guy for real? He wore tight, dark jeans, which practically clung to his legs, and a white shirt which was just as tight. And over it, as if this wasn’t in complete opposition to his outfit, a wrap with a happy and snuggled-in baby. Clive took a closer look; the little one couldn’t be older than a few months. Their eyes were open, and they were curiously checking out their surroundings. The baby was just as cute as the boy. And the dad…well. His dark hair was standing up in all directions, practically begging to be ruffled, and the smile he gave Clive was so bright it wouldn’t be out of place in front of some cameras. It was blinding and distracting in equal measure.
“Hey, ehm…yeah,” he answered and then gave himself a mental shake and told himself firmly to get a grip. This wasn’t some celebrity. It was just another dad bringing his son to soccer practice. “Yeah, Jay plays here.” He addressed Bradley. “Welcome to the Wildcats. My name is Clive Mayer, and I’m the coach. What do you say? Want to join in today and see how you like it?”
The boy looked up at his dad with his huge brown eyes and got another blinding smile in answer, this one softer around the edges and full of love. “You got this, Baby Goose,” the man said softly, “Jake and I will be over there the whole time, okay?” He pointed to the stands a few feet away, and the boy bit his lip for a second before he nodded. The man bent down and hugged his kid, careful not to squish the baby between them, and the boy pressed a kiss on his little sibling's forehead before he trotted to the other kids. Clive's eyes widened. If he would try to hug his son in public, he would get a mouthful. Andy felt very strongly that at nine years old, he was way too old for such things.
True to his word, ‘Mav’ parked himself on one of the benches, watching the training with attentive eyes. Bradley was hesitant at first, Clive could tell, but the longer the session went on, the more he came out of his shell, and he clearly had a lot of fun. He wasn’t half-bad, either. Clive hoped he would want to come back. They could use another player with his speed for their flank.
When the training came to a close, the little guy said goodbye to the other kids and then sprinted over the whole pitch to his dad, who stood there with his brilliant smile on his face. As soon as he arrived, he flung himself into his arms and then started talking a mile a minute, relating everything he did at training as if his dad hadn’t been there to watch the whole thing. The guy took his hand, smiling at him and talking just as animatedly, and together they left the pitch. Clive couldn’t wait to tell his wife, Wendy, all about this. She was a sucker for gossip. He also really hoped to see them again.
He did. Bradley showed up to the next training and the next, and he improved so fast that Clive added him to their line-up for the next game the team had to play. And when Saturday came around, Bradley’s dad was hopping up and down in the stands, cheering Bradley on, once again wearing tight jeans and a white shirt and his aviator sunglasses. He was a sight for sore eyes. The baby was parked in a carrier next to him, sleeping contently and completely unbothered by the ruckus his dad and the other parents and kids made. Bradley played well, really well, and when he scored a goal, he first celebrated with his teammates and then sprinted over the whole pitch to his dad and flung himself into his arms. And the man caught him easily and spun him around, laughing all the while.
His team won the game, but Clive knew that was not the main story that day. No, the main story was the new hot guy who showed up to the game with two kids and no wedding band on his finger. After the game, more than one parent asked Clive about the newcomer, but it wasn’t like he could tell them a lot. He knew his name was Mav, that his son Bradley was nine and didn’t go to the school Clive’s son Andy attended, but to one further up north, and that he was always the one to drop Bradley off for the training sessions and the one who picked him up.
Clive knew that the news had spread like wildfire when the next game came around, and the dads weren’t the majority of the attending parents anymore. The stands were packed. The last time so many people showed up, the Wildcats had a good shot at getting into the playoffs. It seemed like every mom, married or not, wanted to get a good look at the new hot dad. And brought some of their friends. And a good look they got, indeed.
Mav was in his element, cheering Bradley on and celebrating his kid’s every move. During the second half of the game, the baby got a bit fussy in its carrier, and he didn’t even miss a beat, produced his trusted wrap from his bag, and a few moments later, the little guy was happily snuggled into his chest. Mav kissed his head and went back to cheering as if nothing had happened. The dads looked envious. The moms swooned. Clive could feel a migraine approaching.
The thing is, he couldn’t even be mad at the guy. Sure, he looked like he had escaped a hot firefighter photoshoot or something, and his shirts always seemed a tad too tight, but he was a good guy and clearly a good dad. Bradley adored him, and Clive wasn’t sure if he had ever seen a baby that laughed as much as Jake. He had never seen the baby cry while they attended the practice sessions or the games. And he clearly made a point of teaching some good manners because Bradley always helped with getting the gear together after practice and was a fair sportsman in both training and game. He also was a doting older brother, always checking in with his sibling before he went on the pitch and after the games, dropping kisses on the tufts of blond hair and grinning wide and happy.
They seemed like a genuinely happy family. But it was always the three of them, and Clive couldn’t help but wonder. What had happened?
When the guy didn’t attend the next game alone, Clive was so intrigued that he had to shake himself mentally. He was the coach; his focus should be on the game, not the stands. But next to Mav stood a giant of a man with broad shoulders and bulging arms. His appearance was even more impressive because Mav himself wasn’t very tall. The new guy wore a menacing scowl on his face and effectively kept the other parents at bay. Clive was sure he could see the disappointed frown on Cathy’s face, Melvin's mom, who went through a messy divorce last year and was clearly ready to leave this chapter in the past and start something new, if her outfit, which was…questionable for a kids soccer game at best, was anything to go by.
Mav was his usual energetic self, jumping up and down on the stands, while Tall Guy had an eye on the carrier, where little Jake slept all the excitement away. After the game ended, Bradley made his usual mad dash over to his dad, but this time he launched himself into the arms of the other guy, who caught him effortlessly and threw him in the air in an impressive show of strength. More than one mom looked intrigued, and more than one dad looked impressed. Bradley’s delighted laugh echoed over the pitch.
Clive moved closer, unable to resist the gossip. After all, he promised Wendy, who couldn’t be there today because her parents were visiting this weekend and she promised to take them up the coast for the day, to update her on every new development concerning Hollywood Dad, as they had dubbed him.
“What do you think, Uncle Slider?” Bradley asked, and Clive could almost feel the wave of understanding and elation going through every single woman in hearing range. Clive really wondered what was up with the names. Mav? Slider? Whatever was going on here, he was happy it didn’t extend to the kids. Bradley and Jake seemed to be pretty solid names. Even though Baby Goose, as a nickname for Bradley, also raised more questions than it answered.
The man now known as ‘Slider’ laughed, a deep and rumbling thing. “Still don’t know why you couldn’t just play football like every other damn kid in this country, but you did good, B. And I had a good time. Not easy to keep your dad in check, though. I thought he might sprint on the pitch himself.”
The dad in question started a token protest, but Bradley giggled happily in his uncle’s arms, and Clive could see the answering soft smile on Mav’s face. Slider grinned, with slightly too many teeth, looking at the audience they had attracted. He turned back to the boy in his arms. “You might have to explain the rules to me one more time. Why didn't the goal that kid with the blond ponytail scored count?”
This set off a rapid flood of explanations from Bradley. His dad just grinned at them, happy and carefree, and grabbed the carrier with the now awake baby, and together they left the pitch, with Bradley still talking a mile a minute and perched up in his uncle’s arms.
This set the mood for the next few weeks. Mav always attended the games, sometimes alone, sometimes with Bradley’s uncle, but always with the baby, either in his carrier or in the wrap. Sometimes one of the parents would dare and approach him before or at half time of the game (any other time was pointless because the guy was so invested in the game, he didn’t even notice if anyone wanted to talk to him), and ask him one or two questions. He was always polite, his bright smile firmly in place, but he didn’t seem overly interested in making new friends. To Clive, it was clear he was there to support his kid, and nothing else mattered to him.
Every information obtained in these rare moments traveled through the soccer parents like wildfire, and Wendy, Clive’s amazing wife, was more than happy to bring him up to speed after the game was finished. They learned that the man was a naval aviator and worked at Miramar, the base a few miles away. Bradley’s uncle seemed to work there, too. The moms were ecstatic. Good-looking, amazing with his kids, no wedding ring to be seen, and a pilot? It seemed too good to be true. Clive didn’t miss that the uncle gathered quite the attention himself. After all, a good-looking, single naval aviator, built like a freaking house, was also a promising opportunity.
They also learned that Mav had been permanently stationed there for the last two years to teach and that he had flown missions all over the world before this appointment. They learned that he lived not far from the Wildcats’ training ground.
Other than that, he was not very forthcoming. Oh, he never really outright refused to answer the question. He would smile and charm and talk, and only after he had turned his eyes back to the pitch would they realize that he had expertly distracted them into talking about their own kid and never really given an answer. He seemed to be a private person, and Clive thought they should respect that and give him some space. He was glad that no one was shameless enough to ask about the whereabouts of the mother of the kids. Surely something had happened with Jake being so young.
But he feared that streak wouldn’t hold much longer. The single moms were getting restless. The gossip-loving ladies weren’t far behind. Even some of the dads were more invested than Clive has suspected at first. Thankfully, almost nobody dared to approach him when the uncle was around, looking menacing and unamused, except when he was looking at Bradley or the baby. But Clive dreaded the next time Mav would show up to a game alone.
Luckily the next game wouldn’t be that day. Mav had shown up with Bradley early for warm-up but without the baby, and Clive was just starting to worry when the game started, not missing some of the hungry looks in the stands, but after a few minutes, the uncle appeared, empty baby carrier in one hand and the baby on his arm. The little guy was looking around with wide eyes, and Clive marveled at how big he had become in the few weeks he knew this little family before he told himself to focus back on the game.
It was a tense one, they played against one of the best teams in the league, and while their season had been going great so far, this was a test to see where they really stood. Everyone was on the edge of their seats; the atmosphere was loud and intense. Everyone was cheering the kids on.
When they only had a few minutes to play, a hush suddenly fell over the audience, and Clive looked over at the stands, curious about what was happening. People were quietly talking to each other, looking over to the entrance of the pitch. Clive followed their line of sight and did a double-take himself. An imposing man stood there, his eyes firmly on the pitch. His blond hair was perfectly styled and shone brightly in the sun, only rivaled by the striking white of his dress uniform. He was comically out of place, but he wore the uniform so gracefully that it somehow didn’t matter. If he was aware of the stares and the chatter, he didn’t let it show, entirely focused on the game behind his aviator sunglasses.
They were in front 2 - 1, but the other team threw everything at their defense that they had, and Clive was counting down the seconds till the final whistle more and more desperately. Luckily the kids on the pitch didn’t notice the commotion in the stands. He would have been furious if they lost their game just because the parents were star-struck by a guy in uniform, no matter what a striking picture he made.
When the referee finally had mercy on him and blew the whistle to signal the end of the game, loud cheering broke out all over the pitch. Clive saw Bradley starting his signature sprint to his dad, but after a few steps, the kid stopped dead in his tracks. Surprised, Clive looked at the man. He was grinning brightly as always, but he was also pointing to the other end of the pitch where…yepp. Where the man in uniform was standing. Clive saw the confusion in Bradley’s eyes, saw the kid turn his head and stare for a few seconds…and then all hell broke loose.
“POPS!” the kid yelled, and the commotion on the pitch and the stands was loud, but his cry of joy easily overshadowed it all. As fast as he could, he ran to the man, all the while screaming in joy. Clive winced. He knew from experience that Bradley would try to launch himself at the man, and he was afraid of how this would play out with this stern-looking man in his stark white dress uniform. It had been an intense game, and so Bradley’s kit was covered in mud and grass.
He shouldn’t have worried. The man made no attempt to stop him, and when Bradley flew into his arms, he caught him effortlessly and cradled him close to his chest, holding him tight, without a care in the world for his uniform that would undoubtedly get green stains. Bradley buried his face into his neck, and for a few moments, they just stood there, wrapped up in each other and utterly oblivious to the fact that almost everybody on the pitch was watching them.
After a few moments, the two made their way over to where Mav and Slider were standing. Mav had a fond look on his face as he watched the guy carrying Bradley over to them. “... I didn’t know you were back,” Clive heard Bradley say, and the guy chuckled. “I couldn’t miss your most important match this season Baby Goose, could I? I told Admiral Norman that he had demanded enough of my time, that I had important business to attend to in Miramar, and that it would be in the best interest of everybody if I could catch the early flight back.”
His smile, as he said this, was sharp and had way too many teeth, and Clive had the strong impression that this was someone you thought twice about saying no to. Even if you were Admiral Norman.
Slider snorted before he clapped the guy on the shoulder. “Good to have you back, Ice,” he said, and what was it with the names with them?
Ice, and who the hell would be called Ice, looked at them, at the kid in his arms, at Slider and at Baby Jake, now awake in Mav’s arms and smiling brightly, and finally at Mav, and his eyes lost some of their steel. “Yeah,” he said, “it’s good to be back.” Then he smiled, and it completely transformed his face. He looked younger and carefree and so, so happy and even more handsome. It was a breathtaking thing. The family gathered their stuff and turned to leave, Bradley still in his pops’ arms, chattering happily about the game and the assist he made for the decisive goal.
Almost everyone in the stands stood there, watching them, but they didn’t even seem to notice, too wrapped up in their own little world.
Clive grinned as he watched them leave. Whatever dynamic this little family had going on, he had the strong feeling Cathy or any other of the soccer moms didn’t stand the slightest chance.