“What sporting star will my  son become?” I wondered to myself. My son has that competitive “I need to win” spirit about himself when he picks up a ball or bat. How can I channel that passion? What are the options for a young son in a big world?

A Socceroo? ‘Tis the mother’s favourite boy sport after all. No slamming heads into the ground, no ‘around the knee’ tackling, no head injuries… just kick, run, kick jump, tear your t-shirt off with joy.

Or perhaps I could become one of those brave souls that lets her little munchkin on the footy field. NRL or ARU? Or AFL? Or Gridiron? You have Rugby League with its working class background. It’s a tough sport, a MAN sport with a great history. But then again, to have a son become a WALLABY, now you’re talking. Can a mumma put up her hand and request her son not to be in the scrum, with the sweat and the bones and the bottoms? Then there is AFL, the handsome man’s sport. They are tall, they run, the way they boot those balls is impressive and the scoring is weird. But there’s less rumble and crack.

My son could be a Boomer. He’s small at this stage but he could be tall!? There are tall genes in my family tree. He liked to dribble when he was little! Or a baseball player and head off the US of A and earn a pretty penny in Major League Baseball. He’s a great runner and hitter, though he does hate to lose.

Perhaps his destiny lies in the Olympics, no less. A swimmer? Sprinter? High Jumper? Walker? Hop, Skip and Jumper? Wouldn’t his mumma be proud?

Though I would love him to excel at something sporty, I just (perhaps predictably) want him to be happy and fulfilled. I guess, if his dream is to be in that dirty scrum, then (gulp) ok, give it a go kiddo. If it is to join the chess club or learn to surf, cool.

We often dream dreams for our kids cos we think it’s too late for ourselves. They are like Star Wars Episode four: A New Hope. I think it’s a dangerous place to be; too much pressure! Trying every conceivable sport just in case he’s awesome at it, makes for a busy and tired little chappy. So, for now, I put my sporting dreams aside and wait for the moment that he says, “Mum, can I play ….?”

photo by Jessica Schubert

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