Cheering Through Generations
by Dana Wineland O’Rourke, contributing writer
“Daddy!” he yelled, recognizing the tall tussle-haired man among the dozen warming up in uniforms for their softball game. His daddy waved back as I took our two-year-old son Timmy’s hand and carefully stepped up the bleachers. With his freeze pop in one hand, and mine in the other, we took our seats.
There was a baby in my belly, and we cheered for the left fielder playing his last season of organized sports to spend more time with his growing family.
“What are you going to do with two boys?” I was asked after our son Danny was born. Everyone had been convinced I was carrying a girl, who, like me, would sing, dance, and spend too much time on her hair.
I’ve answered that question repeatedly, but not with words. Like their father, our sports-loving sons had my support. Not only did I become their biggest cheerleader but also coached soccer, helped maintain fields, and held booster offices. Like most moms, I oversaw their equipment and uniforms, was careful not to wash lucky socks, and would find anything misplaced prior to game time.
Their dad went from playing softball to rolling soft balls to his babies, eventually coaching their soccer, baseball, and basketball teams. They participated in multiple sports, that often overlapped, causing crazy schedules and meals on the go. Our sons loved playing ball, and we enjoyed watching them grow through athletics.
Both boys used their hard work and talent to earn college scholarships. For Tim, it was basketball, and for Dan, baseball won out. I no longer heard, “Mom, where’s my hat?” and Coach Dad took a seat beside me in the bleachers where we applauded together.
Their college years were a whirlwind, and what a ride they took us on. Wins in overtimes and extra innings, heartbreaking losses, and championships. We came home with Tennessee clay on our sneakers, Canadian coins in our pockets, and memories to savor.
Our family room shelves full of trophies, medals, photos, and awards are a time capsule of those days, and a space where their six children can learn a little about their dads.
Yes, our sons are men who no longer wear uniforms with numbers, and like their father, coach their children while their wives keep track of calendars and uniforms and are their kids’ biggest fans. The four girls and two boys took, or are taking part in, everything from karate to lacrosse.
My husband and I are fortunate to live within driving distance to attend their games and other activities. As grandparents, our roles have changed. No hustling to practices or providing team snacks. No scrubbing grass-stained baseball pants or shopping for basketball shoes. We just show up in our spirit wear.
New “senior friendly” camping chairs had to be purchased to watch this next generation. When trying to get up out of our old chairs with no arm rests following a 90-minute softball game, I looked like a Jack in a Box with a malfunctioning spring.
Concession stands choices have changed since our kids held dollar bills in their hands. Walking tacos have replaced hot dogs and Gatorade is frosted. Thankfully I ‘ve always been able to count on M&Ms.
We still participate in the 50/50 fundraiser. At this point we have accumulated enough losing tickets to circle the equator, but enough happy memories to reach the moon.
Seeing our son Dan on the mound again after 20 years is a bit surreal. He went from striking out Division 1 baseball players to lobbing softballs to his daughter’s team.
Our son Tim began coaching his son’s basketball team ten years ago. That not-so- little hooper will graduate high school soon and is headed to his dad’s college alma mater to play basketball. Life comes full circle.
Today’s parents are met with more challenges than we experienced while raising them. We’re proud of our sons who coach their kids with love, knowledge, and understanding, whether they have a ball in their hands or not.
My husband and I are embracing this season of life where retirement allows us to better enjoy sport seasons. We’ve perfected purchasing tickets online and trust Siri to get us to games.
If only bleachers were constructed to be more safety conscious. While scoping out the best path up the stands at a basketball game, my son Tim took my hand and helped me navigate the old wooden bleachers. With my purse in one hand, and his in the other, we took our seats. It reminded me of helping him up the bleachers at his dad’s softball games over forty years ago.
Being able to witness our “kids” in our old roles, and watching our grandkids do what they enjoy is a blessing.
Whatever season you find yourself in, embrace it. To say time flies is an understatement.
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About the author: Freelance writer Dana Wineland O’Rourke retired after wearing the many hats required for her position as a school secretary for 30 years. A lifelong resident of Monongahela, Dana has been married to Tim for 46 years. Their two sons and daughters-in-law made the family an even dozen with six grandchildren. She enjoys spending time with family, traveling, gab & grubs with friends, biking, and fitness classes at the YMCA.
