Even for people who aren’t big soccer fans, it was hard not to get excited about the World Cup this year. It’s been the main topic of many sports shows, news reports, and casual conversations for the past month. I saw several of the games, including the nail-biting final match between Argentina and Spain. My favorite game, though, is one that took place a week before then, and it had nothing to do with the World Cup.

We were in Minnesota visiting family, and had the opportunity to attend our four-year-old grandson’s soccer game. Soccer at that age level provides a completely different kind of entertainment than professional sports, of course, and cheering on one’s kids and grandkids is fun and rewarding.

Our grandson scored a goal, which was exciting to watch, and I got some great action shots throughout the game, which I know I’ll smile at whenever I look through the photos I took. But neither the goal nor the pictures are what I’ll remember and appreciate most from that game. It was when our grandson fell down—although that’s not the reason I enjoyed it.

I don’t even remember whether he tripped, was tripped by someone else, or went down while he had possession of the ball or was going after it. What I do remember is watching a little girl from the other team reach down to give him a hand and help him back up. It was one of those magical moments, just lasting a second or two, but it made a big impression on me.

Every so often, a news story will tell of a player or team stopping what they’re doing to help an injured competitor. I can recall stories over the years about this happening in middle school, high school, and college competitions, and even in the Olympics. The one I remember most was when a college softball player hit her first—and only—home run, but injured her knee rounding first base. She couldn’t continue on, but had to touch all the bases in order for the run to count. Her teammates were not allowed to help her, but two players from the other team ran out and carried her around the bases. Their own team lost that game, but those players won the hearts of everyone. And although this happened almost 20 years ago, I still remember it vividly.

The incident at my grandson’s soccer game wasn’t nearly as dramatic, and I doubt that he or the girl who helped him up even remember it. But I do, and I see it as a small but compelling example of something that seems more and more rare these days, not just in sports, but in life: someone reaching out to help someone else who is in need, no matter who they are, or whose side they’re on.

July 24, 2026
©Betty Liedtke, 2026

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