The Non-Sports Kid (and it's OK)

 

So much for "keeping your eye on the ball"

One of the worst-kept secrets is that I have a son and I adore him.

We're close. You know that.

We travel together. We talk. We laugh. We watch movies. We bond over things and we share in other things that maybe we don't have in common.

He's not a sports fan, despite where he works and the number of games he's been to.

He's very unlikely to just sit down and watch a game with me. Unlikely, as in next to never.

Sean tried baseball.

He loved going to practice and going to the games. He loved his uniform and his glove and his bat.

He loved everything on the field.

Away from the field, he had no interest. He also had no interest in going back to the field if it didn't involve the organization of a team event.

Still, we went to the field one time for a game in driving rain. The league didn't postpone. The coaches showed up and a small group of players arrived. So we played (it was T-ball). Sean was all-in. We had a blast.

But, the reality was that he struggled on the field and wasn't concerned about improving. After five years, faced with the reality of kids pitching to him as opposed to parents or a machine, Sean elected to stop.

It was his choice and I didn't fight it.

I was bummed. Sure, I was. But it was his call and I was proud of the five years that he played. He tried. He did all of this because he wanted to. He liked the time playing for me as his coach, and that was part of the deal.

But he was done and he never looked back.

I can't live through him. He can't become an athlete because of me. It's his story. It's his life.

I wasn't a great athlete either (now more than ever) and it's such a dark hole to push our kids to be what we weren't. But that doesn't fly.

That doesn't mean I didn't push my son.

I pushed Sean to be polite and respectful. To clean up after himself (a little). To be honorable and decent to everyone, with no exceptions. I pushed him to stand up for himself and defend things he believes in but still pick his battles.

I pushed Sean to be Sean and have him know that he'll always be accepted. 

Much like me, Sean couldn't be categorized. He couldn't be pigeon-holed. That can make one a target, especially if you show your hand. Like, oh, me.

Sean was bullied and, to be honest, I'm only now beginning to recognize how much. He came through it with the scars (I had my bullies also) but overall OK. Still, I see where it hardened him and that's sad.

While I wish I could have done more the reality also is that there is only so much that parents can do before becoming "that parent."

And "that parent" only makes it worse.

Bullies see things. Or parents of bullies see things.

They hear things.

They see the social media posts and they hear the chatter.

And the boulder grows in size as it rolls toward Indiana Jones.

I'm not saying my style is the answer. I often wish I had known more and done more -- calmly, without making it about me.

In fact, I was more active when Sean went to the Carmel schools but that's a whole different topic. Things were different and felt more out of my control when he went to the Wappingers school district.

I remain steadfastly proud of Sean. He's making his way in the world and, as a parent, I help where I can. He continues to learn from me and notes my crazy schedule and hard work (things I also want him to pick up).

Sometimes all we need to do is lead our kids by example as opposed to living it all on social media.

That's what has worked for us.