Playing Fields
I went to a high school junior varsity track meet yesterday. My varsity grand-daughter was running to post some times and warm up for district. In this COVID-19 world sporting events can be a bit of a hit or miss proposition, and two meets had been cancelled already this season. This meet went off without a hitch. She did well, her coach was happy, and I went home damp from the intermittent rain, and happy, as well, because she was happy.
As I watched her prepare for and run her races, I thought of all the times I spent at sporting events, watching her father and his siblings perform, and then all the times I spent at sporting events as my parents watched me perform. There was a nice long line there of parental support and encouragement, and I imagine it will stretch out into the future if she marries and has children. Sports are fun that way. It felt nice to be part of a continuum like that, and for a bit, it felt as though I could indeed see the future.
As I watched her run, however, I was struck by the shear number of kids in and around the track. They were everywhere, in all shapes and sizes and colors. And for every child that ran fast there were at least as many who ran slow, maybe more. But still, they ran, and jumped, and threw, and looked as though they were having fun. I wish I could say what lessons they were learning. Maybe none. Maybe everything. It just seemed good that such a thing had been made possible for the children and they were out there in their numbers being children, making friends, while learning how to compete and perhaps survive and even prosper.