Why Blog?

Before I get much further with this blog, I feel I must clarify something—I am not writing a blog about my cat. Some of you are confused, so let me explain. I have two cats, one of who is named Scout. (The other is named Nala, and she would be very upset if I didn’t mention her.) The more observant of my very few followers have noticed that my blog is named “Scout’s Landing,” my profile is named “Introspective Scout,” and my profile picture is (presumably) of my cat peering out a window reflectively. Well, I like to think that she was reflectively looking out the window when the picture was taken. More than likely, she was doing nothing more than spying on some pigeons that were perched on my porch roof. But I digress…Because of all of this, I got asked—in that I’ll-support-whatever-you-do-but-think-you’ve-gone-‘round-the-bend tone of voice—if my blog will be about my cat. Rest assured, I have not “gone ‘round the bend.”

So what will my blog be about? Well…

A few years ago, when I was really unhappy with my job, I got the idea to start a book blog where I could do what, aside from The Husband and ice cream, makes my heart go pitter-patter—read and review/analyze literature. In the fantasyland that exists in my mind, I hoped that some big-name magazine or newspaper editor would stumble upon my blog, fall in love with my witty and insightful reviews, and whisk me off to be the next big whoever-is-big-in-the-book-review-world. I’m not in said job anymore, but I’m not reviewing books for a big magazine or newspaper either, so that says a lot for that dream at the moment.

More recently, I’ve contemplated starting a blog about a medical condition I’ve been struggling with over the past couple of years. My hope would be to raise awareness for it and be a source of encouragement for those who suffer from it. But that requires me to be a lot more open and vulnerable than I tend to like being with people who aren’t God and The Husband. No offense to you all, especially the close family and friends who may read this and be hurt. Perhaps some day…

Lately, though, I’ve felt the need to just write about life. A lot has happened in my life in the last year—let alone couple of years—that have caused me to evaluate what I believe and what I think, and I feel the need to bore more than Mini Me (the voice in my head) or The Husband with my thoughts (both breathe very audible sighs of relief). Which brings me to the pieces of my blog that caused the question mentioned earlier…

One of the things you should know about me is that my absolute favorite book is To Kill a Mockingbird by Harper Lee. Absolute. Favorite. I read it at least once a year and thumb through it whenever life feels out of kilter and I need to feel some inner calm. One of the reasons I like TKAM so much is that I identify with the novel’s narrator, Scout. Growing up, I was very much like her—I was bright, preferred playing with boys over playing with girls, wore shorts underneath my skirts and dresses (thank you, Friday Flip-Up Day), and tended to do more than scratch the surface with my thoughts. In some respects, I am still like Scout today; I long ago stopped wearing shorts underneath my skirts, but I still have a tendency to be introspective and am often baffled when people’s words or actions don’t align with how I think people and the world should work. This blog is a manifestation of this. I am Inquisitive Scout, who has found a landing on which to perch, look out at the world around me, and reflect on what I see. I’m sure that I won’t always like what I see, I’m sure that you won’t always like what I say, and I’m sure that I won’t always like what you say in response, but whenever I decide to lay this blog to rest, I hope that I will have imitated my great literary hero. I hope that I will have grown in perspective and understanding of the world…and I hope that I will have helped you do the same.

With that, I’d like to welcome you to Scout’s Landing. I look forward to what we learn from each other.

My Hero

So I had big plans for my next blog post. I was going to explain how I came up with the name for my blog and what I plan to blog about since some people seem to have the…wrong impression about that. But as John Steinbeck said, “The best-laid plans…often go awry.” My younger brother, you see, went and did something last week that upstaged me—he got signed to be a professional soccer player. Big deal, you say. Update your status on Facebook, and get on with telling us about your blog. Big deal?! BIG DEAL?! Why yes, it is a big deal, and let me tell you why…

The Futboller started playing soccer around the time I did. I came home from second-grade wonderfulness crying after a very mean boy (who’s not at all mean in adulthood) in my class told me that I couldn’t play soccer with the boys at recess anymore because I wasn’t on a team outside of school. As my identity at the time was firmly rooted in my tomboyishness and proclivity to hang with the boys, I demanded that Mom (sorry, Mom, but you don’t get a “cool” nickname) sign me up for soccer right away. She figured that if she was going to sign one kid up, she might as well sign the other kid up. (My youngest brother was too young to play at the time but dipped his toes into the greatest sport known to humankind a few years later.) After The Futboller’s first game—in which he ran all the way down the field after receiving a pass from a teammate, took a shot, and kept running…straight to the swing set in the middle of the park—we thought that we could cross this sport off the list of sports for him to play. Stupid us.

The Futboller has spent the last 20 years eating, sleeping, and breathing soccer. The Cliff Notes’ version of his soccer career is that he was a much sought-after youth player, played for the premier league in our good ol’ hometown of Tucson, made his age group’s Olympic Development Program (ODP) squad every year he was eligible, and captained his high school and college soccer teams. Rather than dragging The Futboller back ONTO the field, as my mom had to do in his first game, we now find ourselves dragging The Futboller OFF the field…or at least trying to.

While all of the above makes for a great story, three years ago is where the story gets really good, in my opinion. That’s when the Futboller picked up his cleats—or “boots,” as he calls them—and moved to the East Coast so that he could be closer to the pro soccer scene (well, and so he could be closer to his girlfriend, who had transferred to a college there). For the past three years, he has worked his butt off trying to get his big toe in the door of Major League Soccer by making a Premier Development League team. You know those movies about the athletes who rise before dawn to train, put in a full day of work, and then either put in more training time or pore over fitness manuals or skills-development drills into the wee hours of the night? Those athletes who train through pain, blood, and injuries? My brother could star in one of those movies. He came home for a week-long vacation this past fall and had to pack the biggest suitcase he had in order to fit the equipment he brought with him so that he wouldn’t miss a week of training. Look up the definition of hardcore, and my brother’s face stares back at you.

You’d think, then, that with all of this training (not to mention incredible talent), The Futboller would be a shoo-in for a team. Not exactly. You see, pro soccer is not entirely about skill; it’s also about who you know and how you know them. The Futboller was often overlooked by coaches who chose players they’d coached since Diaper Days or players who’d come up through the “right channels,” despite the fact that he was much better than them. Many times, The Futboller was told that he didn’t have enough experience. How he was supposed to get experience when he wasn’t given a chance is beside me, but I digress…Despite how discouragingly gut-wrenching these rejections were,  and despite how much it made him question whether God was trying to tell him that he just wasn’t meant to play soccer professionally, The Futboller didn’t give up. And that’s the reason I’m writing this blog post.

My brothers and I grew up under the mantra “Hard Work Pays Off.” It was beaten into our brains at the parochial school where it was our school motto, and we got a second helping of it at home from our parents. The Futboller took this motto to heart, and last week, he got to see tangible proof of it. I’m so very proud of my brother for realizing his dream and becoming a professional athlete, but I’m more proud of him for the diligence, determination, and HEART he displayed getting there. The Futboller may be my younger brother, but I look up to him for how he’s accomplished what he’s accomplished. Last week, my brother became more than my brother and more than a professional athlete—he became one of my personal heroes. Regardless of where this next phase of his soccer career takes him, The Futboller will always have my admiration, and I will always be one of his number-one fans.