As a mother sitting on the sidelines of a football game, I’m often surprised by how my perception of how the game went can be so different than my son’s—who actually played in the game.
This week’s game left me with lots of negative feelings. I didn’t like how the coaches were playing my son. He didn’t play a consistent position, but was sent all over the place. I thought the team, as a whole, looked sluggish and confused most of the time. Yes, we only lost by one touchdown, but I’m tired of celebrating kids who look like they gave up.
My son comes over after the coach’s chat they get after every game with a big smile on his face. He wasn’t upset by being moved around at all. He stood there, taking his gear off, talking about the things that he felt his team had accomplished. His enthusiasm made me pause, and I’m glad it did.
I didn’t share any of the problems I saw, because I remembered this isn’t about me. If he’s happy with the results, that’s all that matters. This is his team, not mine. It was a good reminder about not overstepping in my role as a mother of an athlete. I’m supposed to be there to support him, and that’s it!