Out and About (Sort of): You Can “Go Home” With Some Retrospection by Howard Freedlander

It’s often said, you can’t go home, you can’t recapture or repeat an idyllic time in childhood or youth.

The past Saturday when my wife and I watched our 12-year-old granddaughter play softball at Route 18 Park outside Centreville, I had flashbacks to another fun-producing time when her mother and aunt played softball on the Eastern Shore.

I was a parent heavily invested in a daughter’s athletic performance, possibly too much so. I didn’t sit on my emotions. I had played sports throughout college. I expected my daughters to do well. If their performance were lackluster on a particular day, I expected exhaustive effort. At the same time, I tried to be positive about their prowess, even if I felt otherwise. Sometimes I said nothing after a game. I’m not sure my behavior was constructive.

It was so different that past Saturday. I watched with little or no emotional investment. I was there to provide some grandparent support; the results were less important than they were 30-35 years ago.

In days of yore, I often was an obnoxious parent. I can’t deny it. I yelled and screamed, mostly at the umpires. I tried to encourage my daughters, even when it hurt. I tried ever so hard to be a patient parent, able to forgive my daughters should their performance fail to measure up to my too-high expectations.

It’s far easier being a grandparent. Your sportsmanship is much more admirable than it was at another time, when victories were of utmost importance. Your attitude is healthier. You’re just there, because being a more mellow spectator seems important to your daughter and granddaughter. Your daughter is empowered to shout and moan, though I rarely have witnessed that. Her demeanor is far more mature than her father exhibited so many years ago.

As a grandparent, you’re just a kindly accessory. You’re treated as “old” people, as we were Saturday as two team parents moved a canopy to enshroud us in shade and improve our experience at the ballfield. Is it respect or sympathy that motivates this generosity of spirit? Does it matter?

Aging has some advantages, though not many. Sometimes, your pride has to take a backseat to nice, benevolent gestures of friendship. Sometimes, you accept the extra effort of kindness without reservation or embarrassment.

As I watched my granddaughter work hard to hit the ball and contribute to her team, I was reminded of the intrinsic value of sports. While it does matter if you win or lose, if you hustle or hold back, if you focus or daydream, the opportunity to be part of a team is invaluable.

Though I periodically decry the predominance of sports in American society, often to the exclusion of cultural pursuits, I feel thrilled that women’s sports have gained more attention and respect and public support. No longer is a woman, driven to succeed in amateur or professional sports, stigmatized by athletic excellence. It’s perfectly acceptable to seek to succeed in a competitive sports venue and know that the American public honors your abilities and prowess—while at the same time appreciates your human qualities.

As a parent of two daughters, I unabashedly encouraged athletic participation. And, yes, I might have been too pushy for top-flight performance. I also understood, however, that learning to win, participating in endless practices and melding your talents with others were life lessons that should be and in fact are available to male and female athletes alike.

Maybe, just maybe, women’s sports have opened up other opportunities in other fields, such as business, the law, academia, medicine, science, government, and non-profits. I’m realistic enough to know that women still face discrimination in the work world in terms of salary and upward mobility. Change comes slowly, glacially so.

America is still the land of opportunity. Women can advance from playing softball on a well-kept field at Route 18 Park outside Centreville to leadership in a major corporation or university. Being on a team can provide valuable life lessons.

A grandparent can be hopeful about a grandchild’s future. We can even mentor benignly. The ultimate responsibility, of course, lies with a parent and a child.

As it should be. Grandparents have had their turn at bat.

Columnist Howard Freedlander retired in 2011 as Deputy State Treasurer of the State of Maryland.  Previously, he was the executive officer of the Maryland National Guard. He  also served as community editor for Chesapeake Publishing, lastly at the Queen Anne’s Record-Observer.  In retirement, Howard serves on the boards of several non-profits on the Eastern Shore, Annapolis and Philadelphia.