We are currently visiting our granddaughters and sons in Colorado. Our oldest granddaughter, a sixth grader, played in a basketball tournament yesterday that ends sometime today. We were blessed to watch three of her games on Saturday.

Watching Chloe play basketball was a reminder of how children productively struggle to play sports. It was also a reminder of how you as a grandparent, parent or friend, etc. must be encouraging but to not come unglued by the referees calls or lack of calls. I was exhausted after the third game, and really wanted to chew out the refs because there were a million reach in fouls. I thought I was watching a form of football based on the way the girls would just grab for the ball. Surely, I saw over one hundred tie balls yesterday. Chloe was also frustrated because they only won their first game, and her team lost the last two games pretty miserably. She left the venue in tears.

This whole experience reminded me of my own sons early excursions playing sports. I was the loudest voice during any wrestling meet. I cannot tell you why, but wrestling brought out the loudest in me. My oldest son Marcus and I talked about that for awhile yesterday. He said he never noticed it when he was on the mat, but when he’d watch the tapes, he’d always hear me shouting something like, “Get ’em, Marcus”. I really do not recall what kind of things I was shouting, but somehow I thought by hollering some encouraging comments I could magically help my sons win.

I must admit I have a lot of anxious behaviors when it comes to any sport I am a fan including wearing certain things, standing in certain places, etc.This is weird, I know, but I try to tell myself again and again, “You do not have control of this outcome.” If you ever have watched the movie Silver Linings Playbook, you can understand this weirdness. It’s kind of like faith, strange but often the tenuous link we need to keep one foot in front of the other.