The Courage It Takes to Play

 

You lace up your shoes,

heart pounding,

stomach tight.

Your name is called.

 

And now every eye is on you.

You step up to the plate.

You climb onto the beam.

You sprint down the field.

You take the shot.

 

Behind you?

A chorus of adults.

Coaches yelling.

Parents pacing.

Whispers. Cheers. Groans.

 

Your teammate’s dad clenches his fists when you miss.

Your own mom drops her head when your shot clangs out.

The sideline is a storm of expectations,

And you’re standing in the eye of it.

 

You’re 5.

You’re 10.

You’re 13.

 

Do we see how brave they are?

To try. And try. And try.

To fail.

To be seen doing both.

 

But what do we do?

 

We break down their mistakes in the car.

We critique and tell them what they should have done.

We withhold the stop for ice cream.

We think we’re teaching—but what we’re really doing is taking.

 

We take the joy.

The safe place.

The reasons to play.

 

So here’s the reminder:

 

If they’re on the field, they’re already brave.

If they show up, they’ve already won.

 

They don’t need our pressure.

They need our comments.

They don’t need a critic.

They need a support system. They need a fan. They need love, win or lose.

 

Let’s not be the hardest part of the game.

Let’s be the reason they keep playing.