The Role of the Grandparent in Sports Today

This really happened. 

I was at a youth sporting event not too long ago. (I'll leave the sport out so as to not indict the sport--the sport wasn't the problem.)  I've written about that before.

I watched the parents and was both amused and disturbed by what I saw.  Let's just say that the sideline intensity far exceeded the intensity on the field.  There wasn't as much criticism of the game officials than I've seen often in the past, but these moms and dads were certainly animated.

When a score was made, the coach for the team (a parent) that was scored upon was in visible agony.  "How could you..." seemed to be his favored coaching method.

Sitting a little behind those parents were the much calmer grandparents.   Maybe they were calmer because they (we) have been there and done that.  I know I have. 

The grandparents offered gentle words of encouragement and support but were definitely less intense and never yelled.  I'd like to suggest that this should be the role of the grandparent.

John William Black and Worth Roscoe Mason.  Those were my grandfathers.  I never knew either of them.  They were gone long before I was born.  The only grandparent I ever knew was my maternal grandmother, who died when I was 7. 

I never had the opportunity to learn from them.  Never knew the patience that bypasses parents and goes straight to grandparents.  Never got to be bounced on their knee.

John William Black died when my dad was very young.  At one point, he owned a pool hall in Sweetwater.  My dad carried a token from those days his entire life.  That token even went to the South Pacific with him during World War II. 

Worth Roscoe Mason died too soon as well but my mom did get the chance to know him.    I don't have many stories about him but enough to know that he must have been quite a guy.

I want to stick around so that my grandchildren know who I am.  I want to be an example to them.  I want them to see that you can do the right thing every time and still enjoy life.   I want to be a living example that you can be a good guy and still be OK.

Just the other day, a fellow I know was marveling at the love that he had for his only granddaughter.  He remembers that surely he loved his own kids that much but that somehow it was different with this one.

We both speculated that maybe we were too busy "raising" our own kids that we didn't take the time to think about the love part.  Maybe we were too preoccupied with what they would become and ignored what they were at the time. 

Maybe.

I just know that my job includes being silly (often), always ready to dance (the hot dog dance comes to mind--if you don't know it, ask a grandparent), supportive, and loving unconditionally at every moment.