I stumble upon my son and his buddies unwinding after a long day at school, sprawled across the grass like a pack of spirited colts, playfully darting around and poking at one another.
“Your mom is here!” one of the boys shouts to my son. I recognize him, squinting for a clearer view. In fact, I know all these boys, but they hardly resemble the little kids who once played in my yard.
Thirteen is such a transformative age. Faces sharpen, bodies stretch, voices shift, and their tastes in clothing and hairstyles evolve—sometimes in ways that leave me scratching my head. When they greet me now, I often need a moment to recognize them.
They’ve matured not only physically but also socially—many have had their first crush (I know, right?); they’re all busy texting, posting on Instagram, and using Snapchat. My son, however, lingers a bit on the outskirts, tossing free shots and gliding around on his ripstick, weaving through their towering frames like a little pup. Sometimes I worry he might not fit in, but he shares a bond with these boys that goes beyond their years of friendship.
He’s an athlete.
Regardless of whether they’re playing baseball, lacrosse, basketball, or football, they’re all competitive spirits who play hard and aim to win. They respect each other as friends, teammates, and rivals.
There’s been a lot of chatter lately about youth sports—the overzealous coaches, the crazy parents on the sidelines, and kids being pushed too hard, too fast. Sure, that stuff exists. I’ve seen the over-the-top parents, pacing nervously and shouting like they’re auditioning for a reality show. But thankfully, they’re the exception rather than the rule.
As a mom of three boys, I live and breathe sports, especially Little League baseball. My husband coaches, proudly donning his cap while on the field with his team. I watch in awe as he nurtures them without coddling, uniting them as a team while also focusing on each individual. He dedicates his time to coach, motivate, and guide, showing up for practices and games—even when it means I’m left waiting in the bleachers in a cute dress for our anniversary dinner (or whatever other plans we had!). The way he supports them emotionally and keeps an eye on their well-being is remarkable. You can see the gratitude in the boys’ eyes, whether they say “Thanks, Coach” or not.
As we leave his friend’s house, the cheerful tune of the ice cream truck fills the air. Like a spell, all these boys spring into action, laughing and bumping into each other, nearly tripping over their newfound limbs.
They are wonderful young men, and I am so grateful for them and for coaches like my husband who provide a positive, enriching experience that connects them during such a pivotal time in their lives. As mysterious as they may seem now, I know these young athletes are my son’s team, his tribe, and his friends. They’ve got each other’s backs, and I look forward to seeing them in each other’s lives for years to come—on the fields of dreams and beyond.
Youth sports unite kids in a special way. #thankyoucoach #lovethegame