For a few hours last Sunday I was a soccer mom again.
My son, at age 38, still plays in a couple of leagues in the Chicago area and his girlfriend and I sat on the sidelines to watch and cheer just like in high school.
Todd and Ann Marie at the game
It has got to be one of the most pleasurable activities of a parent – to watch our children as they try hard at whatever it is they love doing.
I am a great fan of team sports, in fact any sport or activity for kids. There is nothing like the camaraderie,learning what it means to be a part of a team, dealing with those of more and less talent and the experience of success … or failure.
Children not interested in sports might be drawn to some other activity. Even those computer “addicts” should be encouraged (within reason)-that’s how Bill Gates started out.
When I was in high school, theater was my thing. In this community I see 4-H capturing the passion of rural children who raise animals and perfect their skills. The Dells is also well known for its excellent band and music programs.
Whatever the activity is, we do our children a big favor by encouraging their exploration and commitment to something. Supporting a child’s activity also means a big commitment on the part of parent- volunteering to coach, raise money and, needless to say, hours spent behind the wheel as a chauffeur.
Sometimes it takes a lot of experimentation to find a niche. Both of my children tried instrumental music in grade school, as did I as a child-it didn’t stick for us.
There is nothing like the commitment to a cause, activity or team to be a positive influence in a child’s life – drug prevention people call this the “anti-drug.” It is normal for teenagers to seek the adrenaline rush and emotional experience. If they don’t find a healthy way to get it, unhealthy ways are very tempting.
I remember well my son’s senior year in high school. He had been co-captain of the soccer team for two years and they lost what was their last game, eliminating the team from advancing to the next round. As he walked away from the field after the game he was crying. I know it was not about losing, it was just about never playing with those friends again.
As I watched him last weekend, twenty years later, I saw the same camaraderie, the same laughter, the effort, and occasional bursts of frustration.
When I was in Mexico on vacation this winter I had a great time watching a number of young Mayan men play soccer (or futbol as they say) on the beach after their workday was done. As the sun moved lower in the sky, casting a gold glow over the scene, there they were in bare feet, with a soccer ball — palm trees and piles of sand for goals.
It was the same – the grandstander, the quiet, solid player, the bossy one, the one who struggles – the joy. It must be universal.
My daughter spent years in gymnastics and credits her poise today to the control over her body she needed for that sport. “You really have to be centered,” she told me once.
I recently watched some super-8 movies we took almost 30 years ago of their early sports activities. My daughter was in T-ball and her brother, three years older, was a pitcher on a baseball team. It brought tears to my eyes.
I notice the local park and rec. department is looking for more volunteer coaches and I encourage everyone to sign up. These opportunities for children would not available without parental participation.
I could coin a phrase and say, “(Almost) everything I needed to know to be a parent, I learned being a soccer mom.”
May 3, 2003