Pre-season and fall sports are quickly approaching as the summer races by. And it’s my first fall without a sport to prepare for, the first time that I can remember.
Like many parents, I’ve had athletes for as long as I can remember. It started back in toddlerhood at Super Soccer Stars, where everyone won, and the trophy at the end of each game was a pack of Oreos.
For years, we were an ice hockey family. With all four kids skating in different directions, and weekends were a logistical puzzle. I always seemed to have someone else’s child in my car, while one or more of mine was riding with another family. Tournament schedules looked like military operations, and our cars looked like we lived out of them. It was hectic. It was exhausting.
But it was what you did.
Eventually, the girls traded skates for lacrosse and field hockey sticks. We have an incredible youth lacrosse program in our community, and we were quickly swept into that world. Even at a young age, tryouts were stressful, and team placements felt like everything.
As they got older, the intensity only increased with high school and club programs. I found myself literally wearing different hats as we raced from one field to the next all over Westchester and beyond.
The boys’ paths shifted from hockey to track, cross country, and rowing, opening the door to entirely new sports to learn. Racing times, qualifying standards, ergs, pacing—a whole new language. New coaches, new teammates, new families, new gear, and, of course, updated war plans.
During high school, our family was immersed in these sports, all at highly competitive levels, often layered with club teams. Summers revolved around tournaments, training sessions, camps and showcases, with little room for much else.
But it was what you did.
Then comes college. If competing in college is your child’s dream, nothing makes you happier than seeing it become reality. Getting there is practically a full-time job—for both the athlete and the parents.
And once you’re there, the commitment somehow grows. The travel gets farther. The gear multiplies. The planning becomes extraordinary. The group chats never stop. The SignUpGenius requests for tailgates seem endless (but are always fun).
You do everything you can to make it to home and away competitions, and when you can’t, you’re watching ESPN+ on your phone from wherever you happen to be because, inevitably, events conflict.
None of it comes without stress and emotion. There are heartbreaking losses, sleepless nights, injuries, disappointments, uncertainty, and more than enough drama along the way.
And then, one day, it just stops.
No more schedules to coordinate. No more packing the car or making plane, train, and hotel reservations. No more confirming game times, pre- and post-game plans, tailgate menus, or refreshing a livestream.
I’ve now watched two of my children finish their college athletic careers, and when that moment comes, it hits harder than I ever imagined. Your mind knows it’s coming. But your heart still isn’t ready.
You leave a piece of it on that field, that track, that course—second only to the piece your athlete leaves behind.
I’m sharing this for one reason.
To the moms in the thick of it—the early mornings, the carpools, the tryout stress, the endless weekends on the sidelines—try not to get too caught up in the little things. The missed shot. The playing time. The team placement. The comparisons we all fall into from time to time.
Sports bring incredible highs and inevitable lows. Thrills and disappointments. Celebrations and injuries. Friendships, pressure, resilience, and unforgettable memories.
Through all of it, try to enjoy the moments a little more than you worry about the million little things.
Because one day, without much warning, that last whistle will blow.
And you’d give just about anything to sit in one more folding chair on a chilly Saturday morning, coffee in hand, cheering them on.
