Riding the Wave: What Surfing, Sport, and Fatherhood Have in Common

I’m now into my third month of fatherhood.

And while a big part of me wants to spend this entire post repeating all the clichés about being a girl dad, I’ll try to restrain myself.

You know the ones:

“There is nothing sweeter than coming home from work and seeing your daughter smile at you.”

“Taking care of a newborn is exhausting, but it’s so worth it.”

The kind of lines parents tell people who don’t yet have children.

And if I’m being honest, when I was on the child-free side of that conversation, I often couldn’t really relate… and sometimes I didn’t particularly care either. (Maybe that was just me.)

But since this blog is called Live India, Love Soccer, I feel obligated to connect this reflection to sport somehow.

Luckily, I’ve realised something recently:

Parenting a newborn has a lot in common with sport.

More specifically, it has a lot in common with the strange emotional cycle that keeps people coming back to sports even when they’re bruised, frustrated, and occasionally humiliated.

 

Surfing and a Bruised Ego

A few years ago, I started learning how to surf in the calm waters of Goa.

At first I took a few lessons, caught a couple of gentle waves, and naturally concluded that I was a gifted surfer.

This confidence lasted exactly two sessions.

Soon after, I had a couple of days where I spent far more time underwater than above it. At one point my board shot back toward me after a wipeout and slammed into my arm, leaving a nice bruise.

My ego, however, was bruised far worse than my arm.

Naturally, thoughts of quitting crossed my mind.

But something kept pulling me back.

Because in between the wipeouts, there had been moments.

Moments when everything aligned.

I paddled at the right time.

The wave lifted perfectly.

The board steadied.

And suddenly I was gliding across a long, smooth wave, feeling the rush of the ocean while looking out at the stunning Goa coastline and silently thanking God for the moment.

It might have lasted ten seconds.

But those ten seconds were enough to stay in my mind, body, and soul.

Enough to wake up early the next morning and try again.

 

Every Sport Has “That Moment”

I’ve heard people describe the same thing in other sports.

The golfer who had a terrible round but can’t stop thinking about the perfect 300-yard drive on the 11th hole.

Or the 25-foot putt they sank on the 14th when everything just felt right.

That one moment sends them straight back to the driving range the next day.

Or the amateur basketball player who misses far more shots than he makes but suddenly hits two three-pointers in a row to win the match, and spends the rest of the week wondering how to recreate that magic.

Or the beginner skier who falls again and again but then somehow has one glorious run down the mountain without falling, feeling like the king of the Alps.

Those moments are powerful.

They’re what keep us coming back.

Enter: Parenting

So what does this have to do with fatherhood?

Well… quite a lot, actually.

There are days when I think I’ve finally figured it out.

I hear Leela cry and confidently say to myself, Ah yes, that’s the “I’m bored” cry.

I excitedly scoop her up, put on what I believe is her “favourite” song, and proudly dance around the room.

Sometimes this works beautifully.

And sometimes… the crying just gets louder and is accompanied with some angry punching and kicking. 

Eventually I surrender and hand her back, slightly defeated, to my wife or the nanny, the true professionals in the house.

The same thing happens when I try to anticipate what will make her smile, or when I try to be the perfect partner and co-parent to Avantika. Sometimes I get it right.

Other times I simply run out of ideas and energy and defer to the experts.

But just like in sport, there are those moments.

The ones that keep me going.

 

The Flow Moments

It’s when I’m holding Leela in my arms and we’re dancing to a song from my childhood and we’re both smiling.

It’s when she’s lying on my chest and we’re breathing together as she slowly falls asleep.

It’s when it’s just me, Avantika, and Leela (which is rare in an Indian household) and we’re standing on the terrace watching the sunset over the Arabian Sea, the wind gently hitting her face while she stares into the distance.

In those moments, everything aligns.

And life feels… perfect.

 

A Classic Own Goal

Of course, parenting also has its share of embarrassing moments.

Recently we went to the U.S. Embassy in Mumbai for Leela’s citizenship and passport interview.

I walked in with great confidence, proudly guiding Avantika and our nanny through the embassy.

“Don’t worry,” I said in my mind, “I’ve got this.”

I approached the window with my carefully organised folder of documents.

Only to discover…

I had forgotten to pay the passport application fee.

This led to two sweaty trips back to the security gate, trying to figure out how to make the payment and praying that Leela hadn’t started getting "hangry." 

Then, after finally resolving that issue, I learned that I had forgotten to bring the original medical documents related to Leela’s birth.

Which meant that the process wasn't done and I would have to return another day.

In that moment, I felt like I had scored a spectacular own goal.

Walking out with my family into the blazing Mumbai heat, my confidence had noticeably dropped. I wasn’t holding Leela with the same swagger I had when we walked in.

But later that evening something happened.

After a long day at work, I picked her up, turned on our “favourite” song, and started dancing.

She smiled.

I smiled.

And just like that, the embassy disaster disappeared from my mind and I felt like God’s gift to fatherhood all over again. 

 

The Same Game

So I’ve realised something.

Sport and parenting a newborn are not that different.

There will be moments when you think you’re a prodigy, a naturally gifted surfer, footballer, cricketer, or parent.

And then suddenly:

A wave wipes you off the board.

You miss an open goal.

You drop an easy catch.

Your baby refuses every trick you thought worked perfectly yesterday.

Or you forget the most important documents at a critical embassy appointment.

But you keep showing up.

You wake up the next day and try again.

Because you know what it feels like when everything aligns.

And those moments, however brief, are so beautiful, so pure, and so deeply satisfying that they make every wipeout worth it.

So whether you’re chasing the perfect wave, the perfect goal, or the perfect parenting moment…

You keep paddling. You keep trying. You keep showing up. 

Because those aligned moments are nothing short of divine.