My Life as a Sports Mom

I can’t remember anymore the first time I rode in an elevator with 13 girls, the first time I drove three hours to watch a game only to see a lightening strike in the first two minutes, only to have to turn around and go home.

I have spent a lifetime of sitting on cold bleachers, packing coolers, and I am pretty sure I helped make Gatorade the corporation it is today.

What goes into being a sports mom? Being able to drive while listening to the Backstreet Boys. Leaving the dishes, the laundry, the bills and sitting thru' summers of practices. It’s teaching your kids to be a good sport even when umpires, referees are watching their watches and wanting to get home.

It’s scrubbing grass stains out of white pants by hand, and shaking dirt out of socks and cleats. It’s sitting in the heat, it’s sitting in the rain, it’s sitting in the snow. It’s trying to make creative snacks out of cheese.

And taking pictures. Fuzzy pictures, underexposed pictures…it doesn’t matter. You are there and these are your memories.

It tugs at your heart when your kid is the youngest kid on the team and sits on the bench, just watching. And it tugs on your heart when your kid is the oldest, and a leader and taking that younger kid under his wing.

It was summers and summers of loading up the car or van on a Friday and coming home on Sunday. It was staying in hotels, motels, armed with a map and a bottle of excedrin.

It was t-ball and daisy picking and it was competition on high levels and college scouts. And always the memories….

The crunch of the cleats on a baseball field at 7am after a frost. The smell of the dirt. Sitting on a soccer field in a lawn chair, barefoot, having the wind blow thru' your hair as you watch your kid and thinking there is nowhere else you’d rather be.

There was more than teams, or competition. There was fun, friendships. Go Kart Racing in between games. Team dinners at restaurants. Game rooms, indoor pools, and friendships that have stood the test of time.

The most heartbreaking Mom story was my daughter Ashley. My fast pitch kid. Pitcher, catcher. Could throw a fast ball 70 MPH. She was a freshman in high school and her team was going to spend President’s Day at Disney World.

The whole family was going, the whole team. Florida. Hoooy Boy. Not sure if anyone here has ever tried to fly with 16 bat bags. Instead of personal items for a carry-on it becomes your glove and uniform in case the luggage is lost.

Four week before Ashley was playing at in indoor facility, a scrimmage. She is playing on fake turf. She hits the ball…..tries to reach second on a double and her reflex took over and tried to slide. What happened was the the turf hugged her sneaker and her body stayed in motion. And that sound of the crack. I will never forget that feeling as long as I live.

We were 40 miles from home, the ambulance came. I couldn’t ride with her because I had Erik and had to take the car. Hours and hours in emergency only to find out it was broken. The whole team came…sat with her…cried with her. Took lots of pictures with her. She would not be playing fast pitch at Disney World.

I took her home….with the plan to have a cast put on her leg on Monday. I slept on the floor that nite….She wanted me to stay with her…She was in so much pain and I didn’t want to bounce or or move her so the floor it was.

We still planned on making the trip, the tickets were bought. She wore the cast for four weeks……with the idea they would put her in an air cast with crutches just to make the trip. Support the team, be a friend. Maybe try Disney if she was up to it.

The tournament came and we were into our last game of the weekend, and the Coach called for a time out. He called for a time out because Ashley had bugged him the past three days to play. She didn’t want to go home without playing. And she went in. As a catcher. In an air cast.

Every time she had to spring up from her stance my eyes squinted. Every time she chased a foul ball. But she got to catch two batters and come home….having played and be a part of the team. She got to get dirty. Getting dirty is important in sports. I really don’t know where she got that stubbornness from.

My greatest reward is seeing them now grow into adults. Responsible, hard-working. And I know the discipline of playing sports played a big role.

And now the cooler is unused and pictures still fuzzy. But I got to be a Sports Mom.

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