Sporty I ain't

Another confession to go down in the annals of my bad motherliness. I am a terrible sporting parent. I don't mean that I'm a terrible sport. I'm a great sport in general, as the expression goes. But I hate being a sporting parent. A soccer mom, if you will (although this season, it was t-ball for us). Everytime the sport night rolls around, I find myself praying for rain. I don't like shouting the 'rah rahs' and the 'way to hustles' - It just doesn't come naturally to me. (Though I'm happy to do encouraging in a more one on one way after the game - I'm not a total asshole). I don't like standing around trying to chit-chat with the other parents, who are mostly trying to avoid the queers or figure out why Oliver's mom keeps bringing her 'sister' to all the games, and/or talk about sporty stuff


And I just don't like the team-ness of teams. I'm just not a team player. In my time as a student in Gender Studies, I can tell you with unequivocal surity that I would have rather slit my wrists in a bathtub full of gin (as a friend of mine used to be fond of saying) than get stuck doing some shitty kind of groupwork assignment. Unfortunately for me, I was a student in Gender Studies, and they really liked that hold hands and do team work shite. Digressing.

It's not that I don't understand the value of team sports. The comaraderie. The learning new skills. The exercise. The love of 'the game'. How to lose with grace (ostensibly). How to pick dandelions for your mama in centre field. All very important skill building efforts that I highly support (especially that last one). I guess I'm just really glad that I have a partner that actually enjoys the sportiness in life. Who played all kinds of sports as a kid/teenager/adult and loved them all. The team-ness. The cheering. She immediately learns the names of all teammates and uses them regularly in lovely and encouraging ways. An excellent sport parent. The best.

Maybe praying for rain on sport days makes me a bit of a shitty mama. I can pony up to that. It's selfish. (Sorry buddy). But I'm not sorry that I'm a crappy sport parent. It's just not my thing. I'll happily drive to theatre lessons and chat with the theatre parents. Or singing lessons. Guitar? Swimming even. Or chess. Or remedial math. Whatever.

Just not the sports, please. Anything but that.