SPORTS DAY

dIt’s approaching the end of Summer term, and that can only mean one thing…Sports Day!  It’s a national institution, every year, we stick our kids in their shorts and t-shirt, slap on the sun cream and tell them that it doesn’t matter if they win or not, as long as they have lots of fun and are nice to everyone else, that’s all that matters.  We lie.  What we are thinking inside is, ‘You better at least win one thing, and I don’t just mean a ‘taking part’ sticker, I want 1st place or you’re walking home!’

My mum tells very sad stories about my sports days.  I used to love to try, I would give it my all, never once did I drop the beanbag off my head, the tennis ball was always firmly on the spoon (not sure why we never used eggs), I never fell in the sack race, and always had a bash at the 800 metres.  The problem was, it seemed that I had used all my energy in enthusiasm, because I was shit slow.  The 800 metres was a run four times around the school playing field.  While I was just finishing my first lap, the first place had already been won.  God bless the parents, they would cheer me on as I puffed and panted my way around, one year, a load of sympathetic mums even got up and ran the last lap with me.  When I crossed the finish line, the crowd went wild, the way I remember it, it was just like the end of Cool Runnings.

I didn’t lose everything though, one year, so many children got disqualified from the ‘beanbag on your head’ race that I was the only one left in the running.  Further proof that slow and steady wins the race, as long as everyone else cheats and all the teachers take pity on you.  I’ve probably still got that first place certificate somewhere.  I should frame it really, because I took my victory, and not wanting to push it, I retired from all competitive activities.

When I look back on my old primary school sports days, the main thing I remember is the parents going absolutely batshit mental.  There were less than 100 kids at my school but the roaring coming from that playing field, you would be forgiven for thinking you had stepped into the Olympics.  I couldn’t quite believe the contrast to Oscar’s sports day this year.

Oscar’s sports day was lovely.  It was split into two sections, the older kids and the younger kids.  Oscar being one of the younger.  Rather than competing directly with other children, they took it in turns to complete activities and scored a point for every one they did, and at the end there were a couple of races.  Outwardly, you could see all the parents with their ‘good parent’ smiles on their faces, enjoying the atmosphere and watching the children have a jolly good romp.  I didn’t buy that for a second, inwardly, it was clear, everyone was willing their children to be the best.  Secretly enjoying it when a kid in another house was clearly rubbish (Oscar), getting frustrated when the marksman had turned his back so didn’t record the activity that their child had just complete.   It was a surreal experience, because there were kids shooting pretty good penalties, and no one was cheering them, it was almost eerie.  Every few minutes, Oscar would pop round and demonstrate that he got his sportiness directly from me, and be rubbish at absolutely everything, to the point where he wandered off with a hockey stick because he couldn’t do it, much to the disgust of some of the other children that were very competitive and had run out of patience.

Then came the races.  This was what it was all building up to, finally, some direct competition.  The children were split into their matching ability and then they just ran their little legs off.  I didn’t count, but there were a lot of races.  All the children were dressed in their house colours, but the only cheering was very quiet, people were mostly cheering for their own children, even then they were being far too polite and seemed not to want to cause a scene.  I have neither of these qualities and was belting out ‘YELLOOOOOOW’ had no idea who I was shouting for, but I remembered back when I was struggling on those 800 metres, and how incredible I felt when people were cheering for me, they didn’t know who I was, but they were cheering for me.  Every child should have that feeling of empowerment that comes from having a complete stranger shouting “COME ON, YOU CAN DO IT” at the top of their voice.

When Oscar’s race came up, I went a bit loopy, if you know me, you know I’m not quiet anyway, well, let’s just say I think the people in the next town over knew that Oscar was about to run a race.  He lost the first one.  I expected nothing less, he is mine after-all.  He got his participant’s sticker and off he trotted with a big grin on his face, because what kid doesn’t love a sticker?

Then, something wonderful happened.  Obstacles started being laid on the track.  There was something to jump over and a parachute that they had to crawl under.  This was a game-changer, because it wasn’t just about speed anymore, it was anyone’s game.  Race after race of me shouting myself hoarse, and then it was Oscar’s turn.  He lined up with all his chums, the whistle blew, and off they went, their little legs pounding that grass like their lives depended on it.  They jumped over the first obstacle, Oscar was dead last, but then the parachute.  Kids were getting stuck in it, I thought for sure Oscar would still be in there at home time, but he popped out, first out of the ‘chute.  I cheered so loud a bit of wee came out, I had no idea what else was going on in that race, all I knew was that Oscar was in with a chance of an actual certificate, and not a certificate by default, a certificate he had actually belted the ground for.  He ran so fast I thought his little legs were going to fall off, I cheered so loud, I jumped and bounced and wobbled with excitement, and then his little legs crossed the finish line, and he had done it, THIRD PLACE.  My friend’s little boy actually won the race, I had no idea until I watched the video back afterwards.  In all my life, I have never been that proud.  That rush of love that you feel when your kids achieve something that neither you nor they ever thought possible is the most incredible feeling in the world, I’m not normally serious, but I’m going to finish with some words of wisdom.

Life is bloody hard, there isn’t a day that goes by that isn’t a struggle, but if you get to the end of that day, and you’ve done even slightly better than you anticipated, then you be proud.  Be as proud as Oscar was when he took third place in the obstacle race, or be as proud as I was all those years ago when I came in last place in the 800 metres, because, believe it or not, it’s okay to just finish.

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