Amazing - But He Stole the Show (and that was my son)

 

Late morning on February 4, 2005, my cell phone told me that my son was calling me.  For those who have had the pleasure of having a college-aged son – you may have learned, like I have, that a college-aged son calling you late morning on a February 4^th is likely to disrupt part or most of your day.  I have three amazing sons – but they text me if they want to communicate and call me if they have an emergency.  Calls mean trouble that they want you to help solve.

That morning, my college-aged son – Chris Wondolowski – was calling to tell me that a friend of his just let him know that Chris was drafted by the San Jose Earthquakes in their Supplemental Draft.  So, to be fair, that phone call did disrupt my day, but not in a bad way.

This past Sunday – 16 years, 8 months, 3 days later – my (then) college-aged son is a little older and played in his final game for the San Jose Earthquakes.  Through 413 games 171 goals 37 yellow cards (none of them his fault he claims) and 2 red cards (really unfair decisions he tells me) – I probably sat in the stands for 300+ of those games and watched on television virtually every other one of those games.  “Virtually” because I had a few weddings to attend when a game was going on and Chris’ brothers would hand me their phones under the table to watch the games while the wedding festivities ensued.  I am such a bad dancer at weddings that Mrs. Wondo did not mind me watching the games.

I have had the unbelievable joy of watching dozens of games with my granddaughters in my lap. This past Sunday, when Chris scored, his oldest daughter Emersyn (on my lap) asked:  “Grandude are you crying?”.  (First of all Chris decided when his daughters were born that they would call me Grandude and second of all – yes I was crying). 

Full disclosure – my two other sons (Stephen and Matthew) were convinced that I would be a sobbing blubbering wet mess at Chris’ last game.  I think I did somewhat better than that prediction.

When I think about Chris’ career my mind tries to wrap around the fact that 45 percent of his life up until now has been a professional soccer player. 

He was not married when he started.  His rookie year at Spartan Stadium we loved tailgating in the grass parking lot and then going to the games.   Then the Earthquakes were relocated to Houston.  We spent soccer travel weekends going from the Bay Area to Houston – and Los Angeles – and Denver and Salt Lake City and Columbus and Chicago and New York and then Seattle – Portland  and … well … everywhere. 

Then he came home – my home and his home.  And all of a sudden he started putting balls into the back of the net.  His feet, his head, his shin, his thigh … they all just started going into the back of the net. 

Throughout it all – 16 years, 8 months, 3 days – I cannot imagine a father who would have had a more enjoyable ride.  I am so proud of him (maybe not the 2 red cards) – but if you have ever seen me at a game I am sure my pride is no secret.  Unabashedly, I love the soccer player he has been and the man he has become.

And – while in Houston he married the most wonderful wife in the world (college girlfriend – you knew there was going to be a Chico State part of this story) who moved back with him to San Jose.  For the last several years I have been able to have my granddaughters on my lap in the front row watching my son and their daddy.  Imagine how wonderful that is!  Except when they ask me to take them to the food trucks during the games.

A regular dad like me does not deserve this 17 year amazing rocket ride (but I would not give it back for anything).  I’ve had too many great moments as a sports dad to even summarize.  My youngest as a De La Salle football player and then a San Jose State Rugby player – my middle son as an All American Soccer Player in college and then a couple of years with the Houston Dynamo --- they are all more than I ever imagined.

Sunday evening at the end of the game – I asked Chris to exchange jerseys with me and he did.  The jerseys Sunday were made for Sunday’s game with the “Wondo Forever” emblem on their chest.  It was soaking with sweat (mine was pretty clean that I gave to him) but I loved it as a great end of this chapter.  I told him I would give it back to him and Lindsey (Mrs. Wondo washed it thank God). 

The Earthquake fans – especially those sitting in our section at the games – and the Ultras and Faultline – and everyone else are uniquely wonderful.  The Earthquakes management has been great.  The staff that works at the games have been amazing. 

I still have my season tickets for next year.  I was a San Jose Earthquakes fan long before Chris became one of their employees and I expect that I will be a San Jose Earthquakes fan long after.