Maria played indoor soccer on Saturday afternoon and basketball on Sunday afternoon. Her teams lost both games.
She expressed no irritation or anger as she walked off the playing field and court. She smiled and joked with the coaches. She was happy.
I have always been competitive. If I wasn’t scoring a few goals a game, I was mad. If we lost to another team and I played poorly, I would beat myself up over it.
But Ri, she just enjoys the play. She appreciates the time with her friends. She likes the comraderie of the team. She loves hugging her coaches and talking to them about their newest hair color. She’s out on the court rooting on her team mates as they score baskets even if she hasn’t made one after three tries. She isn’t jealous of their success.
I only noticed this after Jon got on me for yelling at Ri during basketball. Ri had went for a shot and missed. The ball bounced off the rim close to her so she could have rebounded and tried for another shot but she got distracted and the other team got it. I yelled (gently) “Ri, go after those rebounds!” Jon looked at me and hinted to cool it. He was right. This is her first year of basketball. Heck, I’ve never understood the plays in the sport ever.
I sat on the bench next to Jon and took a few breaths. I remained quiet for a few minutes (that’s a miracle for those that see me at sporting events). And that’s when it hit me. I saw Ri skipping down the court and placing herself next to girl from the other team. She wasn’t muscling towards the net like a couple other girls on her team. She wasn’t elbowing the other team to get open. But she was in the game, moving around, doing picks to help move the ball. And she was giving high fives to her teammates when they scored. I realized that is a gift. She can play the game and also enjoy it. I needed to appreciate that gift, sit back, and simply watch. And that’s what I did, for the most part….