A few weekends ago, I had a 14 hour day with a bunch of kids in a minibus, with another parent.
The lead-up to this big day out was stressful, and I’ll admit, I was dreading it a little bit. The weather forecast was not favourable – high winds and stormy conditions are not great for a 550 miles round trip; there were new kids who I didn’t know well and was wondering how they’d cope; and it was a Sunday so a late night back was not going to be a good start to the following week.
However, the weather was kind to us – the storm had blown through overnight and we even needed sunglasses as we set off. Fellow parent and I had lots of really good chats as we shared the driving along the way. The kids were happy in the back – no sibling bickering, and not even too many electronics to keep them quiet.
We arrived on time for the badminton match to a brand new sports hall, and lots of people seriously into their sport. The team had a giant of a kid, who everyone assumed was their best player. He wasn’t – he was ranked 4th (of 4) but was still considerably better than any of our team. In fact, our lead player had a meltdown that threw me off-balance as I struggled to motivate our youngsters who had just spent 4 hours in a minibus to be ‘annihilated’. I don’t like that word, and in fact, I’ve never used that word, but sadly, this kid did and I had to counter it.
You see for me, playing sport is not always about the winning. I tell all my players to play their best. To try and win a point, and when they’ve done that – go for another, and then just keep going. Someday they might win and that’s something to celebrate, but as long as they’ve had fun, not been on an X-Box for hours and they tried their best, I’m happy.
Maybe I set the bar too low? Maybe I’m not ambitious enough on their behalf? Maybe I’m damaging them by not screaming at them to to do better. After hours of travel, to not even get a sniff of a win could be classed as embarrassing, or worthless, an annihilation of self respect.
So after another long drive home, where the weather turned foul, and we ended up on a diversion which extended the journey and the parents’ collection time, I felt pretty dejected. And on the final leg of this expedition, after dropping back the minibus and collecting our car, I asked my daughter ‘was it worth it?’
She didn’t answer immediately, but then said ‘Yes Mummy – and thank you for organising it and taking us’. ‘But you didn’t even get close to a win’ I said. ‘No, but it was fun’ she replied. I asked her if she would do it again, and got another yes. Now I don’t think she was just saying these things for my benefit, knowing I was tired. And the journey back had not been despondent in the minibus at all.
But it made me realise that kids need to learn resilience, and there’s a strength that comes from not always getting everything your own way. Being able to still pick up a racket and go on and play, and play your best, when you know you’ve not even got the faintest chance of winning takes real courage, strength of character and resilience. This is what shapes your character in the future.
So, was it worth it? Hell yes!
Tina Bessell 