Maybe My Kids Will Be Jugglers

I feel if I don’t get my kids into a sport or activity soon, they will be doomed to be losers forever.

They are only three and a half and eighteen months, and already I am feeling pressure to ensure they are good at something by the time they are…well, NOW. Or God forbid they may not make the Varsity team of something amazing by age eight.

My kids have not had a single swimming class. No tumbling, either. They have not participated in any “mommy and son” sing-a-long, dance-a-long or act-like-a-ding-dong-a-long classes. We aren’t yet members of a rec center or the local Y.

Okay, so I’m lying. Mac has tried soccer. We paid a stupidly high amount for 10 indoor sessions up in psycho-soccer territory (aka Dublin, Ohio), and he seemed to kind of like it. But there were plenty of tears, too. And it was too early on a Saturday morning when also trying to manage a one-year-old. And many of the other parents were just waaaaay too into it.

In our backyard, we have soccer balls and a net. We have baseball gear and a basketball hoop. We have balls of every size and color and type. Mac can hit, kick and throw them all pretty well--or so his dad says; I'm no coach.

We’ve talked about what we’d like to get Mac involved in. Martial arts, for sure. Maybe wrestling (just like daddy). He said he wants to play baseball…or soccer…or basketball.

So what’s the problem? We just need to sign him up already. And buy the overpriced gear and show up at silly times for chaos and tears and “I wanna snack!” and “I need to pee!” and just sit and enjoy the misery with the other parents. It’s a rite of passage for young parents. I get it. Now we need to up and JUST DO IT, all Nike-style.

But I’m scared. I’m worried for them. Because…what if my kids suck at sports like I did? I’m worried that they will be totally uncoordinated and laughed at by others and not “make” the team one day. It’s devastating. And you never forget it.

I tried out for cheerleading multiple times, which was dumb, because I couldn’t even do a cartwheel. I did a LOG ROLL for the gymnastics portion of the try-outs. The judges weren’t even looking at me. Why would they? I was never going to make it.

(And please, do laugh out loud that I did a log roll at the tryouts. It is pretty damn funny. My lanky, stick legs, rolling around on the floor – what was I thinking?!)

I’ve never had good endurance (and I now blame sickle cell trait). I came in last on field day…in all the competitions. Remember the ribbons that were handed out? Yep, I had a huge stack of the 5^th and 6^th place orange and brown ones. I was always the last one picked for any sport during gym class. Basketball, soccer, tetherball — even four-square. As my brother will gladly tell you, I couldn’t even push a decent “shoe-shiner” my opponent’s way.

I can only imagine that it stinks for boys even more if they are not good at sports. That’s what they are built for, right? It’s a natural talent; they have muscles, they can pick up stuff easily and hit the ball over the fence…right? But what if my boys can’t? What if they try out all the sports and they aren’t good at any of them and they refuse to play anything because they are embarrassed and end up carrying around a heap of hurt and rejection for decades?

What if they really want to be good – like I did so badly – but they simply are not?

On the other hand...what if they find out they are really good at something? That they truly enjoy and love playing something, because they are so good at it? Or maybe they will be good at multiple sports. What if they meet their best friends in those circles at a young age and it keeps them engaged in their studies and out of trouble through their high school years, and they ultimately experience breathtaking moments of success and confidence and excitement and joy?

Of course, I would want that for them both!

I don’t care much for most sports, because I was never good at them. I couldn’t really try to participate anyway (until high school) because my parents were divorced, and traveling to Cincinnati from Dayton to see my dad and family every two weeks was much more important. For my kids’ sake, I need to shake off my past resentment and start cheering for them on the sidelines. I need to let them try different sports (and stick to it through the season’s end even if they don’t like it) and then let them determine later on which ones they really want to pursue. I need to get my butt up early on the weekends and push them (not crazily) to try hard and practice their tails off and to get better and to not give up.

Sports aren’t for everyone, but being involved in some way, with other kids, and learning how to work together as a team and just being active — period — undoubtedly is necessary for raising healthy, respectful, determined children. And I want that more than anything for my boys.

And, I think they may have a good shot at being good at something. Because thankfully, I represent only half of their DNA.

*And for the record, I did become involved in something fantastic in high school that kept me practicing and active 30+ hours per week in addition to school, and I fully recognize how much it shaped who I am today. I just want a positive experience – like I ultimately had – for Mac and Graham, regardless of whether it’s through sports, the arts or even backpacking with friends through the wild.

The wild south side of Pittsburgh, only, of course.

-Melissa