Hey, dedicated sports parents, I’m reaching out for some guidance. I often see you on the sidelines, sporting your team gear, stocked with snacks and drinks, radiating enthusiasm. You cheer and shout as if each game is the highlight of your life, and I have to admit, there’s a bit of envy bubbling inside me. While I wish I could embody that energy, I come to a stark realization: I’m just not made to be a sports mom.
My disinterest in sports goes way back. I was that kid in gym class who got picked last for teams because I was awkward and had no clue about the game rules. Even in high school, I wouldn’t have played a sport if it meant gaining popularity or securing a college scholarship. Now, as an adult, I’m blissfully unaware of the latest professional games or playoffs. I could easily live without sports altogether.
But here’s the kicker: I have four boys. Somehow, in this cosmic twist of fate, I ended up with kids who, inevitably, have developed a passion for sports. A few weeks ago, two of my sons insisted on signing up for basketball, and despite my reluctance (and an internal struggle), I agreed. That decision led me into the world of avid sports enthusiasts, and I quickly realized I’ll never fit into that mold.
For starters, my comfort level is not suited for hard bleachers and folding chairs, though they’re preferable to the time I found myself crammed among other parents at a practice, unable to see my child—just a sea of heads. And while most of my boys’ teammates are respectful, there are always a few who are less so. It’s hard to sit back and watch my son get elbowed or have the ball snatched away during practice. When others refuse to share, it frustrates me because my son is always willing to lend a hand.
Watching my kids play induces a type of performance anxiety in me. I find myself cringing at their mistakes, even when I know they’re a normal part of learning. I want them to shine, but I sit there tense, as if their ability to dribble without tripping is a matter of life and death. The thought of enduring bi-weekly practices and weekend games fills me with dread. And from what I hear, this is just the tip of the iceberg; many parents spend entire weekends shuttling between games and spending a fortune on gear. Personally, I’d prefer to invest in a basketball hoop for our driveway and watch my kids play casually at home, where I can intervene if necessary.
Team sports are apparently part of my life now, and as a mom, I am committed to supporting my kids even if I don’t enjoy the process. I’ll show up for every practice and game because they deserve my encouragement. But sports parents, I could really use some advice—or maybe just a little something to take the edge off.
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In conclusion, even though I may not be the quintessential sports mom, I’m committed to supporting my kids in their endeavors, even if it means stepping out of my comfort zone.