Tears and a Father’s comfort

Marco couldn't hold back his tears anymore. as he was Laying down on his bed, his chest tremble as tears escaped him. No matter how hard he tried, he just couldn't stop thinking about what happen on the pitch today. the laughter, the teasing, the way the other boys had made him feel unwanted and irrelevant. The ball in his bag, which he once felt like a treasure, now felt heavy, a reminder of how bad he was.

From the kitchen, his dad heard Marco crying. Drying his hands, he came into the room and sat beside his son, Concern written all over his face as he sat down beside him. Hey buddy, what's wrong? he asked.

Marco didn't answer at first, he couldn't speak. He buried his face in his hands. His father placed a gentle hand on his back, giving him the space he needed. "Take your time," his dad said softly. 'I'm here."

Finally, through the broken sobs, Marco managed to speak up. "They laughed at me, Dad, i… I just wanted to play with them, to like them. But they said I wasn't good enough. They called me fat." His words tumbled out between shaky breaths, tears running freely down his cheeks. "I thought playing football would make me happy, but it just made everything worse."

His father sighed, his heart breaking for his son. He rested a gentle hand on his boy's back. "I'm sorry buddy," he said"That's a hard thing to go through. But let me tell you something: what they think about you doesn't decide who you are or what you can do."

Marco wiped his eyes with his sleeve, "But what if they were right?" he said. "What if I'm not good enough? I couldn't stop the ball right."

His father leaned in closer, his voice calm but firm. "You're not good enough yet," he said. "That the word you"re missing: yet. No one is great at something the first time they try. Even the best players started with mistakes and struggles. What makes them different is that they didn't stop trying, even when it felt hard."

Marco looked down, his brow furrowed as he let the words sink in. "But what if I keep trying, and it still doesn't get better?"

Then you try again, his father said, don't let what happened today or what they said to you stop you. You can't control how others see you or treat you, But you can control what to do next. Do you really want to let a few mean kids decide what you're capable of?"

Marco shocked his head slowly, his father's words kindling a spark inside him.

"Good," his father said while smiling, "Because I know how much you really love this game, I've seen it. And I know you've got the heart for it, and that's the most important thing. Talent can only get you far, but determination? That's what makes a real player. And I know you've got it in you."

Marco looked up, his eyes puffy and red now holding a glimmer of hope. "What should i do now dad?" he asked hesitantly.

"We'll start small," his dad said, his grin growing. "One step at a time. If you are serious, i'll help you. But you have to promise me one thing."

"What's That?" Marco asked.

Promise me you won't give up, no matter how hard it gets. Deal? His dad held his hand.

Marco hesitated for a moment, but shook it. "Deal."

His father pulled him in for a hug.

"Remember this, son: falling doesn"t mean it's over. It's where you start. What matters is what you do next."

That night, Marco lay in bed, his father's words echoed in his mind. The hurt from the day hadn't completely faded, but something else began to take place-a glimmer of hope. If his dad believed in him, maybe he should start believing in himself too