Editor’s note: The following article is an op-ed, and the views expressed are the author’s own. Read more opinions on theGrio.
It’s fascinating watching your children grow up. It’s impossible not to think about who you were at their various ages and what life looked like, even if those memories are probably not entirely accurate. Similarly, it’s a joy to see your children develop their own interests and excel in areas you might not have considered. This is constantly my life. At this point, I’m both a soccer dad and a volleyball dad. My daughter made the junior varsity team at her high school (getting real playing time) and, considering her journey, I could not be more proud of her.
That same thing, though differently, also exists with two of my boys, my 8- and 7-year-olds. For the sake of this piece, I will refer to them by their initials, S (8) and R (7). But first, some backstory.
While I played various sports as a youth, I’d never call myself particularly athletically gifted. I played basketball, ran track and cross-country and while especially young, played soccer while growing up in Germany. I was good at all the things I played, but a professional career, nor aspirations really, were in the cards for me. Academics were my thing, and I’m sure my family knew this early on.
But I am a father to little boys so when S and R were little (they’re 14 months apart), I started to envision a world where my two boys would play on the same basketball teams in youth leagues and then through high school (or whatever league was appropriate for what I assumed would be their otherworldly talents) leading to an eventual magazine cover (or really, social media marketing push) featuring the Wright Brothers. If you’re asking yourself the obvious question here, my actual last name is Wright, not Jackson. It’s a whole story — let’s move on.
Anywho, I could…
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