When You Say Nothing At All

If you know me, then you have probably heard me talk or read something I have written about Mia. She is my six-year-old niece and is one of the most adorable people I know. Before she learned the art of speech, Mia was often seen biting, spitting, or throwing the biggest tantrum you would have witnessed. This all made sense if you knew her mum when she was a kid. Bratiness however transformed into adorability.  If you haven’t adopted one of my favourite words, this is the kind of transformation examples that you will see in the dictionary under the term bouncebackability. We wrote her off. Cute kid, but the biggest brat of all time and Super Nanny was needed. She learned how to speak and the frustration resided and being able to express herself vocally reduced the need to inflict physical and mental pain on those around.

She received her school report last week and I’ll take a quote from it.

“Mia is a popular member of the class and she has a close circle of special friends. She is also one of the most thoughtful and sensitive children I have ever had the pleasure to teach.”

How fortunate Mrs Bell never her met her four years or so ago.

My job in the betting industry taught me one thing. As passionate as I have always been about football, I have developed an ability to remove emotion out of certain equations or decisions and to try to evaluate things on their merits and not be swayed by any biases I may have. It is not easy. Maybe I am biased with Mia. Maybe every kid’s report was similar to that and Mrs Bell has five standard templates that she copies and pastes from one to the next.

Kids come out with pearls of wisdom all the time that usually crack you up. One of the joys of being a parent, uncle/auntie, grandparent etc. Mia has had her fair share and I have yet to meet a kid like her. Last week she told her mum that when Nanna passes away, she is going to move into her house so that she can be close to her. I have not managed to break it to her yet that Uncle Rob will be selling up and putting that cash on black in Vegas. I’m sure she will understand one day. I have however never come across a kid who thinks as deeply as her. I recall bursting into tears after sitting in silence for hours one evening when I was a kid and just mum and I were home. I begged her not to die and to live forever. Mum never made the promise but said she would be around for a long time. Mia is not as naïve as I clearly was, but she is already up to speed a certain realities of life that completely belie her age.

I have always been a deep thinker. I suspect that comes across in my blog and words, perhaps more so than in my personality, but that is tough for me to judge. I’ve always been attracted and have warmed to fellow deep thinkers. As I have gotten older, I find myself surrounded more and more by ‘thoughtful and sensitive’ people as my inbuilt filter system has weeded out many of those lacking those traits. I can only hope and try to reciprocate the thoughtfulness and sensitivity, and get the very most out of those relationships.

I have been thinking a lot recently about the same theme that Mia was referring to. She is on one end of the age scale, and there are folk I know and care about on the other end. None of this business gets easier, but like Mia, we try find ways to deal with something that is inevitable at some point. Who knows, maybe by the time I am old and Mia is grown up, there will be a live forever injection we can take. Although after somebody told me yesterday ‘what?! You’re only 32!?’ I’m not sure it is something I’ll be signing up for in any rush.

Mia is on to something however. No, moving in is not the answer or solution for me, and Uncle Rob’s share will go on black, rather than red due to my obvious distaste for that colour. It is the moments, the words, the gestures that imprint in our minds long afterwards. There is something hugely reassuring we can take from any key relationship in  our lives and that twenty years later, you know precisely what they would say, what they would do, what they would advise and what facial expression they would pull. I am not going to stop asking or seeking for any of the above – I’ll still talk to everybody and ask the questions, bits of advice. If I know you well, I just know what you’re going to say or what you think. It’s how I approach and deal with things in this complex world (read my head) that we live in.

Bouncebackability

One trait among athletes and in people in general that I admire the most, is the ability to hold it together psychologically when things are going tough and to fight back. The team that is losing and fights back to get a result, the boxer who has been whipped for 11 rounds and knocks his opponent out in the 12th, the guy down the street who has been diagnosed with cancer and fights through it and survives. The problem however was how to describe the process without too many words – there was no particular adjective to explain it.

A couple of years ago, a new word was introduced into the English dictionary following a campaign on Soccer AM – one of my favourite television shows – and it finally filled the void. Bouncebackability was born.

This was no more evident than on Saturday when HJ and I were on Merseyside for Everton v Man Utd. My boys played quite well apart from some comedy defensive moments, largely due to a poor performance from Sylvain Distan. 3-1 down with only injury time remaining, the Blues somehow managed to bounce back and score two goals in the 92nd and 93rd minutes to draw 3-3. The whole place erupted…or so we heard. I am not proud of this, in fact I am ashamed, but I insisted that we leave on 90 minutes. I was fighting off a cold, and was fed up at 3-1 and figured the boys had no chance with Utd in control of the game. It’s a rule I have always abided by – never leave before the final whistle. However, over the last couple of years, with a fairly fast paced lifestyle, I have developed a rule – I will leave on 90 minutes if there is a difference of two goals or more. Well it well and truly bit my butt this time, and we were victims of a severe case of Bouncebackability.

We experienced another example of Bouncebackability recently. My adorable little niece Mia had her first day at school around ten days ago. The little monkey was so excited about her first day and was having a great first day until she fell off the climbing frame and broke her collarbone. She had a rough day and a half, but then she just seemed so positive and brave about it all. Granted, she was enjoying a sweet and ice cream diet, but I was amazed at how she dealt with it all. She was on good form and she had the ability to bounce back amazingly well. I guess kids have greater recovery powers – I don’t think I would have been so lively as she was.

I would hazard a guess that anybody who has seen the show Soccer AM knows all about Bouncebackability. I would also guess that most folks here in Switzerland and anywhere else outside of the UK have never heard of it. Well, now is the time to adopt it. Throw it into a conversation when appropriate and spread the word.

Growing Pains

One of the things I look forward to the most, after my early season football enthusiasm has died down, (and trust me, it was shot down in flames on Saturday), is spending time with my niece and nephew. I probably see them on average about once a month, and it is amazing to see the difference in them each month. My niece is four and my nephew is going on seven months. Seeing how they grow physically is amazing. There are obvious signs such as a random tooth emerging in Max’s mouth, or Mia’s hair growing ridiculously long, but just seeing them change is amazing.

More so than the physical side, I love to see how they develop psychologically. Mia never fails to make me laugh with some random comment she comes out with and it always amazes me how she can be so savvy at such an age.

That and a conversation I had last weekend made me wonder what moments and experiences we have as children impact you as an adult. The common view is that children learn at a much faster rate than adults and can absorb more in their memories. I am sure that is related more to alcohol consumption personally, but that too is generally related to age.

When I was a child, there were two main incidents that stand out to me and reflect certain things now. The first one was when I was about four years old at my Auntie Francis’ house. Me and my sister were playing in the car park and as I ran around the side of a car, a pitbull flew around the side and hit me front on and sent me flying. It barked and snarled and little Bobby was flat on his back and petrified. It took a long while until I became comfortable with dogs, and even now when I see my lady so natural with them, I know I am not so at ease with them as others even if I am improving.

The second experience was part of the conversation last weekend. When I was eight years old, we went on a family holiday to Ibiza. Now, this was not clubbing Ibiza, and I was only seven, but maybe I just fancied myself as a lady’s man more at that stage than ever after. We met a lovely family and I took a shine to one of the daughters who was about 15. Anyhow, I never liked sunbathing and I never liked swimming or getting wet much – baths and washing were overrated in those days. So little Bobby used to sit in 25c temperatures by the pool, fully dressed – trainers, jeans, the lot. My dad thought it would be hilarious to pick me up and launch me into the water with my clothes and shoes on. I can still picture to this day being under the water for what felt like an eternity and gasping for the surface. Reality is, it was probably about 5 seconds if that, but for a kid who was not comfortable in water, could not swim and drank half of the pool, it seemed far longer. Add to that, little Bobby’s pride was notably damaged at being humiliated in front of this Kylie Minogue lookalike, it was not a highlight in my career. I can swim now and if you threw me in the middle of the Atlantic or Lake Geneva, I’d sure as hell give it my best shot of staying afloat and moving somewhere. It is far from my comfort zone however. Maybe it made me shy in front of ladies too.

So I always wonder what my niece and nephew take in their young lives that they will remember and what impact it will have on them when they grow up. When I took my nephew to the FA Cup semi-final at Wembley 16 months ago, seeing his enthusiasm and awe during that day will stay with me forever. I enjoyed that as much as my boys beating Man Utd that day….probably knowing that that is a moment he will remember for the rest of his life. Funnily enough, I probably wouldn’t switch those swimming pool and pitbull experiences for a Wembley day now. For sure the Wembley day is pretty darn cool, but I guess they all shape who we are. Ask my sister, the pitbull day is probably one of the best moments of her life, so the pain is probably worth it. I guess it is all about sharing them with folks we care about.