Letting Him Play

Sports Dads like to believe that one of the reason we want our kids to play sports is to allow them to grow as people.  I think that's true.  My son has grown tremendously, and his participation in sports was certainly part of the process. 


However, I've found that the greatest growth hasn't been with my son, but with me.  In his last game, he pitched 4 great innings and did well at the plate.  Because I keep the stats for the team, I can see how well he's doing this year.  He's leading the team in all sorts of categories.  Truly a great year for him.

I've come to the realization that I really can't help him much at game-time.  However, I do have the potential to make him perform worse.  I also have the ability to turn gametime into a negative experience.

Lately, I've spent most games trying to make myself invisible to him.  If he's at bat, I'll move to a place where he can't see me.  If he's pitching, I'll head to the grandstands where it's difficult to find me.  If he does manage to make eye contact, I just make sure he sees me smiling.

The reality is that he is, at 11 years old, more knowledgeable about baseball than I could ever be.  He has been a better baseball player than I could ever been almost from the moment he put on a glove. 

It's tougher to let go than I thought it would be.  As a parent, I feel responsible for him.  However, at a certain point, the key is to realize that you did your job, it's now time to let them spread their wings and fly on their own.

I can see that this is a dry run for when he eventually leaves to make his way in the world.  In baseball, you realize that you threw batting practice, you taught them how to catch and throw.  Eventually, you realize they need to be their own little player, independent of you.  You're there to help them if they need help.  If they want to play catch, or get extra batting practice, you do what you can.

Then comes a day, (this day is rapidly approaching for me) when your shoulder isn't what it used to be (especially if it didn't used to be very much) and you can't throw effective batting practice.  There comes a day when you know that they are truly on their own.

Just as, one day, they leave home to go to college, then to work, then to start families of their own.  You're there to help them in any way you can.  However, eventually, they outgrow your ability to help.  They are truly on their own.

Until then, though, I'll cherish every game of catch.  I'll still hide when he's trying to play games, though.  It'll be good practice for both of us.