In recent weeks, I expect many children and parents have celebrated or commiserated over their school sports day. In our house, there were two very different attitudes towards the upcoming day. Our six-year-old daughter barely mentioned it and seemed to gloss over any mention of the word ‘sport’. On the contrary, our five-year-old son could barely contain himself in the days leading up to the great event and could talk of nothing else. Whilst our daughter is totally uncompetitive in life, our son was born with a stopwatch round his neck. Life, for him, is one big race, and the desire to win.
On the morning of the big day, our son consumed three Weetabix and enough fruit to tick off his six portions before 8.30am. He then sped around the garden on his bicycle, limbering up for the day ahead. Meanwhile, our daughter quietly sipped her orange juice totally engrossed in her latest edition of The Tiara Club.
As we were driving to school, my daughter said, “Mummy, you won’t embarrass us by shouting out during the races will you?” What? No shouting? Isn’t that what sports day was all about? Adrenalin-fuelled parents shouting from the sidelines and quietly limbering up for the parent’s race taking place later. On the contrary, the role of parents now seems to have shifted towards taking some first class video footage and capturing some great shots of a child running down the field with a small beanbag on their head. Here were the parents from Thatcher’s generation who were reared to claw their way to the top, suppressing their shouts and bellows and telling their children it was all about taking part and not winning. I felt I was going to burst when it came to the sack race, to the point where I would have gladly grabbed the nearest reusable shopping bag and jumped with them towards the finishing line.
When the cup was awarded, we all clapped politely as the winners stepped forward. Later, my son struggled to hide his disappointment. I told him how well he had done and how it was all about taking part. “No, it’s not,” he said. “It’s all about winning.” I could see his point. I mean how was I to tell him later that it was all about ‘applying’ for the job, rather than getting it? “And we probably would have won if you had shouted out our names louder,” added my daughter.
