When the Final Whistle Blows: From the Stands, With Love —
Mom
By Jody Jacob
Reflections on the universal experience of letting go, the pride in watching our children
grow, and the bittersweet transition from participant to spectator in their lives
You never really think about it.
What No One Tells You About Being A Sports Parent
The moment your player comes to you and says they’re done.
Because your mind, your heart, your energy—they’ve all been consumed by this game, and the
life that came with it. For what feels like forever, your identity has been woven into the culture of
the sport that fueled your child’s dreams.
Looking back, it was always evolving. A constant shift, with each milestone passed.
You remember that first season. The excitement. The nervous energy.
Tying the skates. Taping the stick. Pulling the jersey over their head.
Early mornings. Road trips.
Remember your stick. Filling the water bottle.
And literally holding their hand into the rink.
You remember — and it doesn’t feel that long ago.
But time brought change. Good change. You stopped going into the dressing room.
Stopped carrying the bag. You let go of the responsibilities you once held so tightly.
Because your player now carried those themselves—
The wins, the losses, the weight of it all.
And that was okay.
Because watching them grow into who they are was a privilege beyond comprehension.
Gone are the days your child looked to you after every goal, searching the stands — Did you
see that, Mom?
Now, they turn to their teammates in celebration, to their coaches for advice and approval.
They’ve grown into their independence,
Playing for themselves, for their team, for the love of the game. And you are so proud.
You both let go…and hold on.
You still cheer from the stands—
Bursting with pride,
Anxious at every hit,
Holding your breath with every close game.
You now stand beside the parents who became your friends, no longer centre to the script but a
spectator of the show. You watch their kids grow too, and each claims a piece of your heart.
This became your community. Your happy place.
From the moment your child became obsessed with the game, it changed your family. Shaped
your schedule. Fed your soul.
The dozens of medals hanging on the bedroom wall serve as magical moments frozen in time.
Each a tribute to a challenge overcome, and a triumph to joy. You love the enormity of their
collective story. Sometimes you simply stare at them, remembering fondly.
This sport took your child through wins and losses, taught them to fall and rise. Fail and win.
It gave them discipline, perseverance, humility, determination,
And strength.
It shaped their character in ways only the game could.
Then — one day — the person you’ve happily built your life around looks you in the eye and
says they want to do something different.
And it hits hard.
Because even though you always knew this journey wasn’t about you,
Your heart aches.
For the moments that flew by too fast.
For the stages of childhood that slipped through your fingers before you ever really grasped
them.
You ache for what’s never been yours—
And will no longer be theirs.
But you also know it’s time to let go.
Because this sport, this journey, made your child strong in character, and confident in mind.
It taught them to believe in themselves,
To embrace change,
To trust the process,
To keep going,
To be brave, even when they know the hit is coming.
You trust them.
As they trust themselves.
And you know that their experiences in the game have built a solid foundation for the rest of
their life.
And you hope, with everything in you,
That they know—
Deep in their bones—
That you will continue to be their biggest fan.
That you are so deeply, immeasurably grateful for every moment you got to watch them
compete.
Got to watch them grow.
Got to witness lifelong friendships begin. And lifelong lessons take shape.
And that no matter where they go or what they do…
They will forever and always remember—
How much,
I loved to watch you play.
Jody Jacob is a B.C.-based communications consultant who gratefully navigates the beautiful chaos of words, family, career, and home. A writer, wife, brand strategist, and mom, she believes in the magic of honest stories and the power of genuine human connection. Thanks to a decade of her two boys’ intense sports schedules, her last professional headshot is now 7 years, 9 haircuts, one nose ring and 10 pounds out of date—take it with a grain of salt.
