When I think about the influences that shaped me, I can’t help but reflect on the remarkable woman who raised me—my mother, a true athlete in every sense of the word. She was such a talented baseball player that scouts from major league teams mistook her name, assuming that Jo Young was a boy. They lamented that if she had been male, she would have been a prized recruit. This incredible woman could knock a home run out of the park from a crouched position and played catcher with the finesse of a seasoned pro.
Beyond baseball, she was also a dancer, exuding grace and coordination, effortlessly mastering complex routines as if they were second nature. In our neighborhood, nestled near an Army base, she outpaced and outmaneuvered every boy around her. But what truly set her apart was her ability to uplift those around her. She frequently coached underdogs to victory, combining practice with a deep understanding of teamwork.
And then came me.
It’s no exaggeration to say that my entry into this world was a bit rocky—I’m the least coordinated and athletically gifted person in the family. After a lifetime of athletic triumphs, my mother turned her attention to mending the various injuries I brought home from my clumsy escapades.
She once confessed her worry about how she would relate to a daughter. Despite her own rugged athleticism, she feared she might not be able to help me uncover my worth. What if I was drawn to dolls and pink instead of sports? But somehow, she embraced my girly inclinations with open arms—if “girling” was a verb, I was its poster child! My world revolved around pinks, sparkles, and all things whimsical.
Despite her reservations, my mother thrived as a coach and a mentor, nurturing my interests while gently guiding me to discover my strengths. By my teenage years, she had resigned herself to the fact that I might never excel at sports. My most memorable moment in junior high softball was accidentally catching a pop fly and sitting on third base, clueless about what to do next.
However, her coaching didn’t end there. It wasn’t until I had my own child that I truly grasped the dedication and heart it takes to guide a child toward their best self. My mother studied my passions and encouraged me in areas where I could shine. From literature classes to trips to the theater, and even charm schools, she sought to cultivate my unique talents while lovingly steering me away from my less graceful pursuits like ice skating and gymnastics. Each time I faltered, she was there, ready to support and redirect me towards my natural abilities.
She believed in me, and that belief allowed me to embrace my failures without fear. Losing became less about failure and more about the courage to participate.
A New Generation of Athleticism
Now, as the proud mother of a son, I see a different kind of athleticism in him. He’s naturally gifted, with a coordination that surpasses both his dad and me combined. While I know all about literature and fashion, I also recognize that navigating the world of sports requires a different set of skills that I’m not quite familiar with.
What I learned from my mother is the essence of motherhood: finding your child’s innate strengths and nurturing them. It’s about observing, adapting, and guiding with love and patience.
We are incredibly fortunate that my son has my mother in his corner, too. Since he began playing coach-pitch baseball, she has stepped up to help him develop his skills at home. After just a week of her guidance, he returned to practice with a newfound confidence. His coach couldn’t believe the transformation and asked him who had taught him such impressive techniques. With a proud grin, my son replied, “My grandma taught me!”
So yes, my son hits like a girl—like my extraordinary 73-year-old mother. Even decades later, people still mistake her skills for that of a man’s. But to me, she exemplifies that a devoted parent can nurture both an artist and an athlete with equal grace.
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In summary, embracing and cultivating the unique talents of our children is the essence of being a good parent. Whether in sports or the arts, it’s all about patience, understanding, and love.
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