Losing the run of ourselves: Kids and sport

 

The Olympics may well be over, but after following it this year, what’s impossible to escape about the Games (when you get past the doping and corruption) is the absolute dedication and discipline of each athlete who makes it this far.

 

It is tempting to dismiss the ones that come last in their heats, fall over, or struggle to finish – until you remember that these people make your average person look about as fit and healthy as an old mattress.

 

Many of these athletes have been training for this moment since before they even started school.

 

They have spent hours honing their sport and looking after their bodies just to get a shot at competing against the best in their field.

 

And that has started me thinking: If these gifted athletes devote their lives to success, and we still really only notice the medal winners, why do we put such pressure on our own kids to excel at sports?

 

It’s nothing new.

 

 

Boys, in particular, have always been expected to be nifty with a football, and there’s a certain expectation that your kids will advance at least past the first stage of the Community Games.

 

Some children spend every evening battering a ball of some shape around a field or a court, while their parents look on, some of them expending almost as much energy as their children roaring at the ref, the opposition, and - least encouraging of all - their own offspring.

 

Why do we feel our children have to be sporty?

 

Let’s face it: most of us would have to lie down if we even attempted to do what we inflict on our under-8s, yet we have no problem signing them up for football, rugby, hurling, athletics, basketball, and maybe a spot of gymnastics just to keep the joints flexible.

 

Even if we don’t enrol them into every sport available, we feel a certain anxiety if they don’t show promise at some sport.

 

Thankfully, some of them are not team players.

 

 

Awkward gait or poor coordination bedamned, they would rather listen to the Chemical Brothers on their headphones than tirades from their trainers.

 

They may never stand on an Olympic podium, but they learn to stand on their own feet and why sometimes it’s good not to toe the line.

 

Aoife O'Carroll is a separated mum living in Co Kerry with her two boys aged 17 and 14, and a girl aged 10.