What my 7-year-old son taught me

Saturdays are set aside for soccer with my seven-year-old son, Beanie, his classmates, and their fathers. The boys usually train at soccer school. Weekend matches are a wonderful time for fathers to play alongside their sons. But I had something more in mind.

Watching practice, I knew my son's weaknesses on the field. I planned to teach him one or two key improvement tips during each game. But in the end, it was me who got the lesson. Beanie taught me how to grow more as a Creative Director.

During the game, my son lacked focus and didn't understand the need to secure his own space. I grew frustrated.
He'd get the ball. The moment he did, he paid almost no attention to his teammates' positions. His dribbling, ball control, passing, shooting—everything was flawed. While he played, I kept yelling at him.

Before long, Beanie started seeking my approval with every move. I had become the very distraction
He successfully blocks the ball, glances at me for direction, and by the time he turns back, the ball is already long gone, taken by the opponent. I was rushing him to be a perfect player, demanding too much. I only saw his weaknesses, and even though I knew his strengths, I couldn't bring them out effectively.

Creativity isn't something you teach during a game. I should have encouraged the freedom to take risks, the freedom to try things no one else was doing. I should have forgiven, even celebrated, his mistakes when he played aggressively. Then Beanie would have learned to figure things out for himself, made what he learned his own. I just needed to trust my child.

I was a born offensive player myself. So naturally, I expected the same blood to run through my son. I later realized that expectation was dangerous. His true strength lies in relentlessly chasing the ball, marking opponents tightly, and disrupting attacks. He is, without a doubt, the team's number one defensive player.

When you acquire a skill different from others, the joy of it makes you realize you possess an ability others don't have. Doing what you're good at feels great and sparks the desire to do more. I cheer for Beanie to enjoy every single moment of the weekend game from the bottom of his heart. That was the best thing I could do.

A precious lesson from my 7-year-old son.

(Supervised by Dentsu Inc. Global Business Center)