SWIM MEETS

My Captor and I recently visited our grandchildren, the express purpose attending their season’s final home swim meet.

And while the drive was roughly 600 miles, the trip was like heading back to the ‘50s…

Their neighborhood the kind where kids ride their bikes, walk to school, head to their friends’ houses – all without a parent or police escort.

And still just two sexes.

An era where milk cartons didn’t feature anything but ingredients.

And their pool even featured a diving board – how ’50s is that?

Time warping aside, it was the first swim meet my Captor and I had ever attended.

Not that we did anything to discourage swim team participation – and the 7 hour meets – but:

After breakfast, reminding them it was 18 hours before they could swim.

Buying them ‘weighted swim suits’, which slowed their time considerably.

Offering them cash to do anything else.

But I must admit there’s much to like about swim meets, which are a lot like fishing – sitting in a chair for hours staring at the water, searching for random activity – unfortunately, without beer.

More than anything, it was a study in the pluses and minuses of parental involvement in youth sports, proving and disproving the 8^th law of parenting: The only problem with youth sports is adults.

Proving the power of organization: The meet ran like clockwork, volunteers everywhere – they even sold Chick-Fil-A, politically acceptable in the ‘50s.

Proving the power of coaching: The program director was a positive force – with every child, not just the one who played first base every inning or the swimmer who had to be rescued by a lifeguard – and whenever they surfaced to breathe, kids appeared to be having fun.

The ‘50s motif included a pep rally the night before the meet, celebrating each age group’s ‘practice monster’, and then the ‘whip cream pie’ event – if swimmers correctly answered swim related trivia questions, they pied a coach.

Answer incorrectly, the swimmer ‘pied’ – fortunately, none of the questions concerned math or American history, so the kids did OK.  

Proving the power of obscure sports, neutralizing obnoxious parents. The races are quick, racers pretty much anonymous, and there are three timers on every lane, so angry parents don’t know which one to yell at.   

But for parents who missed having an official to blame for their child’s performance, the ‘Umpire Booth’ – where parents could harass umpire’s mothers, looks and eyesight – was a big fundraiser.

Proving the power of summer activities, keeping kids occupied – and off their tablets. Every kid can participate, and a nice moment was the backstroker who was still swimming when the next race started, greeted warmly by her teammates.  

But more than anything, it was a reminder that we’ll do just about anything for our kids: spending summers watching boring sports pretending to be enthusiastic about the outcomes.

While the competition is intense for ‘most boring sport’, kids pitch baseball has to be the leader in the clubhouse – particularly on a 98 degree day. What’s more exciting than multiple pick off throws in a league that doesn’t allow leadoffs?

And providing the ultimate ‘parental quandary’: If our team wins, we keep playing. Who to root for?

Karate is a popular sport, but the outfits are dull, scoring done on an abacus, feeling like further infiltration into our lives by Chinese Communists.  

The ‘fine arts’ deserve mention: tap and ballet aren’t too gripping, even when performed by Russian professionals – feeling like further infiltration into our lives by Russian Communists.

But our favorite sport remains soccer: Parents don’t know the rules and can’t complain, and it starts and ends on time.

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TO ENHANCE YOUR ENJOYMENT OF THIS POST, PAIR IT WITH THE FOLLOWING SONGS:

The Eels are a fun band, and have been musically proficient for nearly 30 years. Check ‘em out!

Swimming Lessons  The Eels

If the world’s a rotten place
You better just forget it
In the crowd just another face
Gonna make ’em regret it

Take a heart and squash it hard
Like a little grape
Push it down ‘tween boot and ground
‘Til it loses shape

If you let your feelings shine
You better cover ’em up, kid
Ain’t no sense in wastin’ time
Dream behind your eyelids

Take a heart and squash it hard
Like a little ant
Scrape it off the sole of your shoe
On the welcome mat

And if you feel like you can’t swim
When you’re thrown in the lake
Just watch the bugs
Passin’ by you as you
Slip under their wake
Again