High five to sports

I've written before about how much sports, mostly watching sports, has made a huge impact in my life. I grew up with a mother and father who at one time were both physical education teachers. They played sports, my father a basketball player, my mother a swimmer and whatever sports she could sneak around to play. She grew up in a time where women wore dresses and hosted events not related to sports, and other than the swimming angle I was a disappointment to her in my athleticism. 

I tried. I played basketball, took tennis lessons, but I really enjoyed the fun of sports more than the competitive side of it which made my stomach roil. I loved playing with the neighbors in whatever sport happened to be the game of the day. If it weren't for my swimming career, I probably wouldn't even deem myself an athlete, but even then I was groomed for more than the effort I was willing to put into it. 

I was, however, a great athletic supporter. On the weekends, there was never a time when sports was not playing on our television.  I learned basketball, football, tennis, baseball, and golf sitting in front of the television on Saturday and Sunday listening to my parents as they taught me the rules and regulations of each sport. I'm not sure I was interested at first, maybe it was more of a wanting to fit in, make my parents happy. Or maybe I just wanted to be with them, and since that's where they were, well, that's where I was. 

Either way, I grew to love sports. There was not an event that we didn't watch. We set our clocks by games. We attended local sporting events. I had a brother that excelled at sports, and I went to his games, eventually growing up to call baseball games at the neighborhood ball field. During March Madness, we all filled out brackets. My greatest accomplishment was the year I picked North Carolina State to win the NCAA tournament in 1983. For two weeks, during the Olympics, we knew where we would be, nose pressed to the television, and we devoured Sports Illustrated, learning everything we could about the athletes beforehand. The World Series, the Super Bowl, the U.S. Opens in tennis and golf, Wimbledon, the Masters, all of it we spent glued to a television. It is so much a part of who I am. 

I bonded with my husband through sports. We had dates playing basketball at night after I got off of work. We attended local games. I remember the moment I realized he was the one for me. We were lounging at a pool reading, both of us reading books on sports. He once went all out fixing a champagne breakfast for Breakfast at Wimbledon. I use to accompany him to triathlons. Eventually, we encouraged our girls to play sports, always there on the sidelines cheering them on, offering way more advice than they needed after games.

Somewhere, especially when the children were small, we stepped away from sports. We didn't have the time, but it didn't last long. Little by little, various situations presented themselves and we were sucked right back in to what we loved. I met my Steelers buddy in Lamaze class and rediscovered my football love. Tom met a tennis player at the park with the girls and joined him on the weekends to hit around. Our area got a professional baseball team and we began going to the games.

Last weekend, as I sat like a couch potato watching basketball game after basketball game, I wondered how in the world my children avoided this obsession. My eldest attends a huge basketball school, and despite my husband and I begging her to do so, she has never attended a game. What? She played basketball, football, and soccer growing up, but she has never had any interest in plopping down next to me on a couch to watch games. 

My youngest daughter was involved this year in a fantasy football league. She chose her players by cool names, looks, and a bit of help, but mostly she played because the boys who set up the league didn't ask her to participate. She considers herself a feminist, and the fact that she wasn't asked and all the boys in their friend group were, well, she wormed herself right into that. Then she turned it over to me, and I was way more involved in her team then she was. She has played football, basketball, baseball, soccer, and while she is much like my brother, a natural athlete, she chose swimming as her high school sport, but when the season ended she happily moved on to non sports related activities.

They don't watch sports. They don't know the rules of tennis. They've never filled out an NCAA bracket. They roll their eyes at my love of football, and while they are willing to attend games, it is a take it or leave it type of situation. Like me, they grew up with sports on television, but unlike me, they had more options for entertainment. While they are used to me spouting out useless sports information, or naming athletes by their jerseys hung on walls at restaurants, they have no interest in delving into it further. 

I always wonder at this when I'm watching sports. I get such a rush at the greatness of the sport, the athletes, and the coaching that I hate they are missing out. I texted my eldest and told her I was working hard at pulling her team through the game. She sent me laughing emojies. She was busy studying. 

It sort of makes me sad, because it was such a connection for me with my parents, but I don't dwell on it too much. We have our own connections on other stuff. Besides, recently my eldest told me she would need my help on creating some sports activities for her new job as an RA next year. Plus, I'm holding out for the grandchildren. I bet I can mold them.