Monday, August 6, 2012

Yes I am a soccer mom

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Sometimes I find it hard to watch.

Sometimes I wonder whether I'll survive the emotions. I can't explain rationally why I care so much--not whether she wins or loses, but whether she's out there believing in herself and playing with confidence.

Sometimes I wonder whether it's helping her in the least to have a pacing anxious mother on the sidelines. After a really tough loss on Saturday afternoon, I went to visit her under the tent where she and her teammates were resting and waiting for another game. She looked despondent. I tried to think of the right things to say: praise, mostly, for another game well-played regardless of outcome. I couldn't tell whether it helped. Kevin took a turn too, and then I went back again just to hang out, appreciating how the coaches were keeping the atmosphere light, and glad to see that a Freezie had put some colour back in her cheeks. Both Kevin and I know we can't force our kids to believe in themselves; all we can do is believe in them and let them know that we do. I'll admit it: I was worried to see her so down.

"Did it help when Daddy and I came over to talk to you yesterday?" I asked her when we were talking after the tournament was over. We were talking about winning and losing and playing with consistency no matter what's going on around us. I was wondering how to help her cope with the ups and downs that are part of competitive sport.

A warm, appreciative smile, a simple: "Yes."

(My silent response: relief that our offerings of help are welcome; hard to tell in the moment.)

What amazed me and made me most proud was that by the time her team went onto the field for their next game, Saturday evening, she was ready. She played a big game, making aggressive saves that were audacious and, frankly, heart-stopping. She drew the impressed notice of other coaches. Her team dug out a win.

This season, in these tournaments, she's been fighting nerves before games. Butterflies. Feeling sick. But as soon as she takes her place on the field, you'd never guess it. She throws herself in time after time. She looks like she loves what she's doing.

The least I can do is watch.

3 comments:

  1. My sis was a soccer goalie in high school and my mom had to stop going to her games because Mom got so insanely worried (and Mel did get hurt a few times). I only watched Mel as a sister, not a mother - I haven't experienced this with my kids yet, but I appreciate reading your thoughts on it.

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  2. Reminds me of an article about how the best words you can say to your kids are, "I love to watch you play," that's been circling around facebook.

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