For weeks, the pattern was the same.

We’d sign up for a Rocket League tournament in the evening, usually the duos, just the two of us. Before we started he’d say some version of “I’m going to get you a tournament win tonight.” Then we’d lose in the first round and he’d be devastated. Not just frustrated the way you get when a game doesn’t go your way. Actually devastated. Because he wasn’t just trying to win. He was trying to give me something.

He’d already won a tournament with his friend. He knew what it felt like. He wanted me to have that.

The problem was me. I’m not that good at Rocket League, though I’ve been working on it. Training plan, real practice time, lessons for him too. We started winning a round, then two. We made a semifinal run one night and won a game before dropping the next two. Getting closer, but not there.

Then a few weeks ago he asked if I’d play the 10pm tournament. We’d missed the earlier duos and he wanted another shot. It was well past my bedtime. I said yes.

We played well in the first two rounds. I even managed to score a few goals. We swept the semifinals and waited to see who we’d face in the finals. That’s when I checked the bracket. The team with the highest goal differential in the tournament had lost in overtime. We got the other one, which was exactly what I was hoping for.

He played some of the best Rocket League I’d ever seen from him that night. I figured out somewhere along the way that my real value wasn’t scoring. It was clearing space, using my car to push opponents away when they were threatening him, making room for him to operate. There’s probably a metaphor in there about parenting but I’ll leave that alone.

We reached the finals. Won game one in a shutout. Scored two early goals in game two, kept the pressure on, and with less than a minute left the other team forfeited.

The screen changed to a trophy.

He was on FaceTime the whole time, face completely serious, locked in. When it ended he stayed calm for a beat. Then “let’s go.” Then he insisted I switch my banner to Tournament Winner immediately. We laughed. He went to tell my goddaughter. And then, I’m pretty sure, he called his mom to let her know.

He got his old man a win.

I had been exhausted going in and caught a second wind somewhere around the semifinals that I haven’t had in years. When it was over I celebrated for exactly the right amount of time.

Straight to bed.

A tournament winner.