Uta is at that sweet and fleeting age where he loves with all his heart (or at least tries to love as best he can) anything his Pop loves. At the moment it is soccer. Soccer represents all that is good about his Dad, all he admires, and all he hopes to become. So when Uta's soccer ball, the one given to him by Papa just a few days earlier on the very eve of Japan making soccer history, was run over by a truck, the whole wide and heavy world crashed right down on top of him. We heard him wailing his head off before he even stepped foot in the front door. I thought for sure he was the one split in two. It didn't help matters that as he cried in despair over the death of his ball, Hiroshi packed his suitcases to leave for Japan in the morning.
The next day we went out and replaced the ball with the exact same one. Uta styled his own special soccer outfit to match the ball and honor Japan's World Cup soccer victory. (It is no secret that Uta loves soccer style a little more than the game itself, though I think maybe Uta has yet to realize this about himself.)
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