Our kids all play or used to participate in sports. I never did it growing up, but I wish I had! I didn’t get into training until college, but I did try out for the volleyball team in 8th grade! I didn’t make it. One of the aspects of athletics that I’ve enjoyed for my kids is seeing how the teams work or don’t work together and the consequences that occur.
My oldest daughter played field hockey for two years in junior high school. When the team started, they didn’t understand the game’s rules, and the girls who had played before passed among themselves. This didn’t do much to help the newbies who needed to try to learn. As the season went on, though, they hit their stride. Sure, the strong athletes still ran the field, but they passed more and played fewer minutes so the team could grow.
When my younger daughter turned 8, she asked me if she could be a cheerleader. I had no idea where that simple question would lead us in the years to come. Now, she’s an accomplished cheer athlete who has won national championships in various team roles, from side base to tumbler to center jumper and flyer. She’s now flying on the varsity team as an 8th grader; the team heads to nationals in Florida this week.
Cheer is complicated. By that, I mean it’s fantastic yet frustrating and disappointing. I didn’t enjoy the expense or politics of all-star, but I also could see how much my daughter learned and grew as a young woman during her time there. Cheer is a team sport like no other. Every single athlete has to work together to ensure successful stunts. They have to tumble and jump in perfect unison, and often, the road to a winning routine is rough. There have been tears and celebrations, but I’ve never once regretted allowing her to participate.
Now, my son is having his turn. At 9, he already has a few years of baseball under his belt, and he just finished his first season of CYO basketball. He’s not a tall kid, nor does he have the bulk of a young man just yet, but he’s fast and always smiling with a terrific attitude, no matter what. Last baseball season, he won the Wray of Light award for his sportsmanship. Basketball was not like baseball, though. He struggled at first to learn the basic rules. Soon, he proved to be an amazing defenseman, winning the Mr. Defense award at the end-of-the-season pizza party. What I will never forget about this team, though, is everything.
Even before the season started, I could tell it would be great. The coaches were informative, communicative, and organized. In the first few games, I observed his three coaches showing the kids how to execute plays and explaining what didn’t go well and why. They used every available minute to coach. That was not the case with baseball. My son was learning the game. Early in the season, the kids who knew each other from past teams and who knew what they were doing seemed to dominate the court, leaving the newer kids out. Over time, our son began to participate more and more in the game, assisting and passing. He even played point guard a few times. He didn’t have a chance to make many shots but he was fouled once and made one of his foul shots.
As the season went on, these kids became a team. They were having fun, working together, and winning. But my son never made a shot. During the last game at the end of the season-ending tournament, the team was up by double digits. The coaches directed the kids to execute a play so my son could make his first basket. The first call didn’t work. You should have heard the sound of all the parents groaning with disappointment. They all wanted him to succeed. Then there were 3 seconds left on the clock—one more chance. The coaches called timeout and instructed the boys to get the ball to my son for a three-point shot at the buzzer. He missed. For the first time, he cried. I’m sure the pressure got to him. He wanted that basket so badly, and now the season was over, and he would have to wait until next year.
The coach put his arm around my son and walked him over to us. He told him he did a great job. It’s OK. Another coach bent over to his level and told him he did well. He did exactly what he was told to do. There’s no shame in that. Many of the parents and teammates high-fived him and told him he did a great job and that it was a great season. Everyone rallied around him. This team. These coaches. It was the best experience for my son so far in his athletic life.
Reflecting on all the teams my kids have been on made me think about the importance of support. It’s critical not only on a sports team but also in life. We all need someone or some people in our corner to hold us accountable or give us a nudge when we need it. Sometimes it’s just a shoulder to cry on. Whatever it is, we all need each other. If you struggle to create a new habit, get to the gym, or eat healthy, find someone to support you. It can be your spouse, your kids, your friends, or your coworkers. When you find that person, be that person for them, too. As Barbra Streisand sang, “People who need people are the luckiest people in the world.”