Śmigły Wilno

or in it's full name......Wojskowy Klub Sportowy "Śmigły" Wilno.

One year, for Christmas, I purchased a soccer ball for my dad. I don't remember why I did. I just did. I thought it was something he might enjoy. Growing up, my dad never showed any natural athletic sport abilities. He didn't throw a football very well. And forget about trying to teach him how to toss a Frisbee. Horseshoes and Jarts were OK, but not too many kids play catch with their dads with Jarts. The thing was, he couldn't get the throwing motion down; like his rotator cuff didn't rotate.
(There was a trick us kids used to use to show off our coordination skills. You bend your arm up at the elbow until your hand is touching your shoulder. Then, rotate your hand so it is palm up on your shoulder. Then, while keeping you hand on your shoulder, raise your forearm up so that it is parallel to the ground. Then take a stack of quarters and place them as close to your elbow as you can. Without letting them fall, swing your hand quickly forward and catch the pile of quarters.........My dad could not rotate his hand the right way, thereby NEVER being able to catch the quarters.
But, he could play the hand slap game very well........I digress........)
So one sunny day, with my sister's kids in tow, my mom and dad decide it'd neat to have a picnic. Growing up, these would typically mean getting out the old galvanized Thermos cooler, making noodles salad and maybe some fried chicken, a watermelon, throw in a couple beers for dad and a jug of lemonade for us kids, and we'd travel to exotic places like Dufferin's Island or Ellicott Creek. This time, however, the trip was just down the street to Sheridan Park.
We nestled into a shelter, fired up some charcoal in one of those mandatory stationary grills, and headed out to the hill. I ran to the car and got out some toys for the grandchildren and even that soccer ball I decide to include.
Getting close to the group, I kicked the ball towards my dad. In an instance, it was like someone had flipped a switch. He suddenly turned into "Soccerman", with incredible skills and abilities!
With grandkids laughing and screaming with joy, he was able to dribble, pivot, and pass the ball without even watching his feet. He was constantly trying to keep a straight face, but I could see he was having the time of his life. When he took off his shirt and got down to his undershirt, I knew he was getting down to business. At one point, during our spontaneous game of "keep away", he passed the ball to me and I quickly returned it.
Then, to everyone's amazement, he started dribbling the ball over his shoulder. Yes, from a toe kick, over his shoulder, and then with the same foot flexed fully behind him, kicking back over his shoulder onto his toe. He did this without watching the behind-the-back contact, not once, but twice more. Then laughing, punted it out into the field for the grandkids to chase.
He was slightly out of breath at this point, but when I asked him where he learned to kick like that, he just said, "You baseball play. I soccer." And, he walked away.
I can only imagine that "his team" was very likely one that played close to the farm. Knowing that he always said his family lived near Wilno, I can just imagine him watching "Śmigły" Wilno. Who knows.....he might have even been on the team.......