On Being a Sport Parent

Go Easy On Me, This Is All New

One critical element of Little Bean’s newfound basketball career is the fact that her involvement has also driven me outside of my normal parent circles.

The circle of parents involved in chorus and piano and the library are, apparently - and generally - different from those involved in track or football or basketball.

This became clear to me recently as I waited outside the gym for practice to end with a group of other parents, none of whom I recognized.

I was sitting on a bench with someone who I presumed was someone’s mom, maybe mid-thirties, seemed nice enough.

Out of nowhere, she said, “Are you the grand-dad of someone on the team?”

Deep breath. It’s been a while since I’ve been asked that, and I’m no spring chicken. Still, that’s a heck of a way to introduce yourself to somebody.

“I’m Uma’s dad,” I said pleasantly.

“Oh!” she said. “Dad!” I mean, when you’re already in the hole, why keep digging? Oh, Dad, may as well be But you look soooooo old!

When I told this story to my brother-in-law, a coach at my nephews’ school, he just laughed. “Welcome to being a sports dad,” he said.

I’m not sure what that suggests - a lack of manners, an assumption of youth - but I guess I’ll find out. Anyway, the lady and I had a nice chat. Her kid was on my kid’s team, same grade but different classrooms, so their names had never crossed. The team came busting out of the gym so our conversation ended. “See you at the first game,” she said.

On our way out, I asked Little Bean if she new that kid, the one whose mom was the one I just met.

“Not really,” she said. “But she’s pretty good.”

It’s a brave new world out there, I guess. Maybe I should invest in some nice cardigans. Oh wait a minute, I already have a pile of those.