Came across a nice article that a lot of dads may be able to relate and thought I'd share.
Enjoy.
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One of the best things about being the parent of a child who plays sports is having the opportunity to ride shot-gun with him on his journey through all the inevitable ups and downs. Yep, I’m one of those dads who subscribes to the theory that I’m not living vicariously through my son but that I am living vicariously with my son.
My son plays for a select baseball team in North Texas. I’ve been there when he hit his first home run over the fence as a 10 year old and I was also there at a national tournament semi-final game when he struck out with two outs in the last inning of an 8-7 game with the bases loaded. I am eternally grateful to have been with him at both events. Watching my son circle the bases was an indescribable feeling that left me speechless. He felt great about the home run but selfish or not, I viewed it as a gift to me for all the batting practice pitches I had thrown to him when he was younger. Being there to give him a hug after he struck out and reassure him that the sun would rise the next day was my gift to him.
A parent can choose to either be apathetic or passionate about following their kids in sports. There is not anything wrong with being passionate as long as there is some kind of governor in place. I want my son to be passionate and do more than just play the game, I want him to learn all the life lessons the game teaches and absorb the mind vitamins that can only help him get through and understand the path his own life will eventually travel.
Playing select baseball is all about handling failure and never quitting. One of the most valuable things a young man can learn to prepare him for life is that getting knocked down is not a big deal but staying down is. Baseball also teaches kids that are two kinds of people who play the game. Those who are humble and those who are about to be. When you fail in one at bat, you better have a short memory and the ability to turn the page or your baseball career will end shortly. Have these lessons sunk in with him? I don’t know but he can never say he wasn’t told.
The relationship you have with your child as you watch them compete in sports can be delicate waters to navigate. At all times you need to be a cheerleader but sometimes you are a psychiatrist while other times you have to carry a whip and a chair. Some kids need a verbal kick in the tail while others need to be constantly reassured. The lucky kids are matched with the parents who recognize what their child needs.
Parents want their children to get the most out of their own ability no matter what gift they have been blessed with but parents also carry the baggage of experience. It is human nature to ask yourself what you would have done differently if given a second chance. Being there with your kid doesn’t necessarily give you a second chance but it does allow you the possibility to use your own experiences wisely.
My father supported me when I was playing sports but he took a Jeffersonian laissez-faire approach and pretty much left me alone. Maybe he knew a little scaling back wouldn’t have hurt because as a kid I would routinely put my baseball uniform on 6-7 hours before a game and practice sliding on our shag carpet in the sunken living room. Still, I wish he would have pushed me harder so I wouldn’t have to go through life wondering what could have been. My athletic ceiling was limited but I never came close to reaching it because I wasn’t pushed. I wasn’t even nudged.
How do I know if I’m pushing too hard? I really don’t but I am cognizant that life is way too short not to have fun and that doing all the things other 13 year old boys do is every bit as important for his own development as playing baseball. My challenge is to nudge him just enough so that when he is 45 years old he will be grateful that his dad helped him touch his athletic ceiling. As long as he wants to play the Great Game, I’m there for him.
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