Fatherly advice on everything from Plantagenets to the Schliffen Plan

AFIVE- A- SIDE. A friendly, sociable five- a- side. Full of boyish enthusiasm, I dug out my old shorts, pulled on the shinguards and lined out. Here was a chance to enjoy some fellowship with my son, and maybe pass on a few handy hints as to how the game should be played. As it happened, we were assigned to opposing teams, so I primed myself to land a few tackles of the hard but fair variety, just to remind him who is boss. The chance to stamp my authority on proceedings was not long coming as Eldrick came at me full tilt.

He was performing that flashy shimmy which may fool less seasoned defenders but which I read like a book. Then he pushed the ball one way and ran the other way, straight into me, full tilt. Caught complexly off balance, I was thrown abruptly backwards, hitting the astroturf with a horrid bump. Being winded was no fun. And it took a little while to convince myself that neck, back and legs were all still intact. But what really hurt was that the referee gave Eldrick the free.

The little fecker grinned broadly and leaned over me with every show of concern as he helped me back to my feet. Then I watched the remainder of the game from the safety of the stand through eyes still watering…

The importance of a father’s presence to those households lucky enough to have one is generally recognised. The male figurehead offers his paternal wisdom and his attitudes in a way that mothers cannot bring to family life. Of course, mothers are unsurpassed at the nurturing side of things – no one hugs quite like a mammy.

Dads may sometimes appear more remote and stern in contrast. But they too contribute affection and good humour to the family mix, as shaped by their own masculine experiences of life. A father figure can be a source of sage advice, of leadership, of discipline, of fun and (it almost goes without saying) of superior map reading. A father figure is someone to look up to.

I am just not sure that Eldrick gets it.

I can do stern. I can do discipline. I am poised to dispense the sagest of sage advice at the drop of a hat. I have even been known to do fun. Yet Eldrick has never been one to look up to me in any way that I might have anticipated. And now that our son has grown to match my height and weight, it must be accepted that he probably never will.

It has been so from the start.

For instance, Eldrick never shows any inclination to draw on the store of scholarly knowledge I have willingly to put at his disposal at homework time. The presumption that he would look to his dad for guidance on geometric theorems and poetic sonnets proved completely unfounded.

The call never came.

I made it especially clear that I would be happy to counsel on matters historical, from the Plantagenets to the Schlieffen Plan, from the Battle of Aughrim to Battle of the Bulge.

Again, my services were not required.

I summoned up the nerve the other day to give him the old birds-and-bees routine and was accorded a polite reception for my thoughts on love and on courtship and on what are nowadays called ‘relationships’. Eldrick sat with me in companionable silence as I expressed my views on the joys and perils of sex. An occasional nod suggested that maybe he was actually listening.

Eventually, worn out by the effort, I ground to a halt. Had he no questions, I wondered.

‘Nah,’ he said. ‘We done all that in school.’ Just a pity they don’t bother with grammar in school...

At the conclusion of the five-a-side, we drove off home. Just the two of us in the car making our way slowly through town. Still smarting from the indignity of what happened, I was poised to tell him just how close he was to putting me into a coma or a wheelchair for life with his push the ball one way and run the other way trick. Before I could utter, he gave me a nudge.

‘I love you, Da.’

And I love you, son.’

Nuff said.