November 11, 2023
Greetings to all the devoted sports moms out there. I’m reaching out for your wisdom. I see you on the sidelines, proudly wearing your team colors, equipped with an array of snacks and water bottles, overflowing with enthusiasm. You’re cheering as if you’re at the Olympics, and I can’t help but feel a twinge of envy. As much as I wish I could embody that spirit, there’s a stark reality I must confront: I’m simply not cut out to be a sports mom.
To be honest, my disinterest in sports runs deep. I’ve never been a fan—not even a little. During gym class, I was always the last one chosen for teams, a clear indication of my clumsiness, slowness, and complete lack of understanding of game rules. The thought of joining any extracurricular sport in high school was laughable, even if it came with the promise of a college scholarship.
Fast forward to adulthood, and I’m blissfully unaware of which pro teams are vying for playoff spots or who’s set to dominate the Super Bowl. I could easily live a life devoid of sports—but alas, life had other plans. I was blessed with four boys. And it’s only natural that, with four kids of any gender, at least a few of them would develop a passion for sports. So, when two of my sons recently insisted on signing up for basketball, I reluctantly gave in (while internally protesting, of course). That’s how I found myself navigating the chaotic world of sports parents, only to realize, with growing dread, that I would never truly fit in.
For one, my backside is far too cushy for the hard bleachers and folding chairs that seem to be a staple at every game. There was even that one time when I stood packed like a sardine among a crowd of parents for over an hour during practice, unable to see my child amid a sea of heads.
Then there are the other kids on the team. Most of my boys’ teammates are well-behaved, but there’s always a handful who seem to revel in mischief. It’s frustrating to watch my son get elbowed out of the way or have the ball snatched from his hands during practice. When he willingly shares a basketball while others hoard their own, it infuriates me to see him left empty-handed. And when one of the more aggressive kids impatiently yelled at my son during drills, I had to breathe deeply to suppress my instinct to intervene.
While I know my kids will face rude and pushy peers in life, it’s tough to just sit back and witness it (especially on those unforgiving bleachers). Speaking of sitting back, being a spectator gives me a serious case of performance anxiety. I can’t help but feel embarrassed for anyone attempting karaoke, so it’s no wonder I feel a knot in my stomach watching my kids make the inevitable mistakes on the court. I know it’s not the end of the world, but I desperately want them to succeed and feel good about themselves, which leads me to sit on edge as if their ability to dribble is a matter of life and death. I have zero chill.
All these factors make the idea of enduring bi-weekly practices and weekend games seem like a form of torture. And from what I gather, this is considered a light commitment. I hear tales of parents spending entire weekends shuttling from field to field, racking up expenses in the hundreds just for uniforms and equipment. Personally, I’d rather invest in a decent basketball hoop for our driveway and enjoy watching my kids casually shoot hoops in the comfort of our home—where I can at least give them a piece of my mind if they misbehave.
I understand that team sports are now a part of my life, and I’ll have to accept that. Like any mom, I’m a sucker for my kids, so I will attend every practice and game to cheer them on, even if it’s not my favorite pastime. But sports moms, I could really use some guidance. Or perhaps a little sedative. Whichever works.
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Summary:
Navigating the world of youth sports as a non-sporty mom is challenging. While I appreciate the dedication of sports moms, my lack of interest and inherent anxiety make it difficult to embrace this new reality. However, for my kids’ sake, I’ll continue to cheer them on, even if it means enduring the chaos of practices and games.
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