Soccer, volleyball, football, cross-country and…oh…school. Isn’t fall fun! I always think of the sports for each season first because that’s how our lives were ruled when I was a kid. Fall has certain sports, winter has basketball, spring has baseball and track. Lacrosse and softball fall somewhere in there but I’m not personally as familiar with those. I get so excited when we get to start something new that we haven’t done in months but as a parent I feel like I have to check myself at each turn.

Let me explain. My first memory of my mom and sports is her sitting in the stands of my basketball games in junior high. I went to Martin Junior High and I still remember every inch of that gym. Bleachers on one side and the stage that was hardly ever used on the other. Escape to the locker room out the end. I have no memory of her watching me in youth sports although she must have been there. But junior high I remember.

I was playing basketball — a sport my mom never played. I was one of the better ones on the team. I was in junior high after all and don’t you always think you’re better than you really are in junior high? She’s sitting in the third row and with every move I make her whole body moves with me in this uncontrollable knee-jerk reaction to how I’m playing. It’s like she’s trying to be the puppet master and force my body to do something I’m not quite doing right in her eyes. I see her out of the corner of my eye continue to do this involuntary flinching through the whole game (and through my whole athletic career it turns out). During this particular game I finally looked over at her to say in my oh-so-loving-13-year-old-way to stop because she was embarrassing me and you know what she did? She put her pointer fingers on each side of her eyes and looked me straight in the eyes and said “FOCUS!”

Egad!!!

I think of that moment each time I watch my kids play sports. I think of that moment each time I find myself involuntarily kicking an invisible ball in hopes that it might make their legs move. I know it’s in my nature and I fight and fight to not be that controlling mom (not that you’re controlling mom — not really). I fight to be comforting and encouraging and not disparaging. And my oldest is only 5! It’s a long road ahead of nailing my bottom to the seat and crossing my legs and saying, “Good job kiddo!”

When our kids are trying their hardest I think we all need to be as encouraging as possible. We need to remember that as long as they are doing something…anything…then they are not getting in trouble. Don’t be that dad who was taking stats and keeping score in a four-year-old WAYA league last year (true story). Don’t be the one yelling, yelling, yelling. When our kids are trying their hardest they just need acknowledgment of their hard work.

Realize that I’m lecturing myself more than anybody because with my genes I need it! “Let’s go Rolling Oranges! Do your best!”