For a good fifteen years of a parent’s life, Saturday and/or Sunday mornings are spent praying for a parking spot, lugging gear and oranges and cheering for a sport you’ll never fully understand.
Forget weekends away—they are for parents who haven’t committed to weekend sport.
Love it or hate it, I’m assured I will one day miss it.
In summer, we’re a cricket family . . . that’s a good four to five hours sitting in the sun in comfy camping chairs, reading the papers, chatting to other families and standing up and paying attention when my son goes in to bowl or bat.
In winter, it’s AFL . . . a lot faster paced, which is just as well in the freezing cold.
There are plenty of parents who will tell you they’re not too happy with weekend sport, but I’m not one of them. I’d only be at home loading the washing machine or cleaning out the fridge. May as well sit in a comfy camp chair in the sun, drinking coffee and chatting to the mums. It’s forced relaxation!
We even have a handy system going at cricket, given it’s such a long game. If you’re immersed in the paper or a conversation, someone will give you a heads up when your son goes in to bowl . . . enough time to jump up and cheer accordingly.
Granted the long game can be a little trying on a younger sister, but there are usually enough spare siblings around to get some sort of off-field game going.
We’ve actually built up some wonderful friendships over the years with the parents of our kids’ team mates, and our children have made some great friends who live locally but attend other schools—all because we spend so much time together on our weekends.
It’s also become a fun way to explore our neighbourhood. We’ve played at ovals I never even knew existed, hidden gems only a few kilometres from home. We’ve also trekked across town, and cursed losing half the day.
Most importantly, I have quickly learnt which fields have the coffee carts . . .
It’s such a nice way to watch my children have fun. There is nothing sweeter than when one of the boys gets a wicket and the entire team runs in to congratulate him, leaping in the air and whooping with joy. Or when someone kicks a goal in soccer and runs around the field with their shirt over their head and their fingers in the air like their Premier League heroes.
I remember watching my then five-year-old daughter’s first soccer game. Her little team like a flock of birds sweeping from one end of the field to the other in perfect unison. She really had no idea about what she was doing but, thankfully, she wasn’t the only one. They were all hoping the ball would simply come to them and if it did they’d kick it.
But while they have fun, I also value what they are learning about competition. Childhood is the best time in life to learn that we can’t always win.
I sometimes worry that we have become too politically correct in our accolades. Schools give the whole class achievement awards so no one stands out; the entire team gets a trophy at the end of the season; and, in some sports, each child gets to kick a free goal at the end of the game so no one goes home feeling disappointed.
It’s important to teach our kids to have fun, it’s important to teach them to be competitive, but we also need to teach them that they won’t always get the gold medal.
Some of the most human moments at elite levels of sport have for me been watching our top athletes manage loss with dignity and grace. We feel their disappointment, but it’s how they handle it and the guts and leadership they show that puts them on the top of the podium in my eyes.
We all want our kids to grow up winners. We want to give them every opportunity in life to succeed. And we need to teach them that it takes hard work and ability to get there. But even if they slug their guts out, not everyone can swim like Michael Phelps, or run like Usain Bolt.
In the real world, there’s always the person who puts in half the work but still breezes through; a girl you grew up with might be blessed with both beauty and brains; or a colleague may be promoted ahead of you when you honestly believed the job was yours.
I hope my children will grow into adults who always work hard and strive to achieve but can recognise and appreciate when others around them do better.