Recent Olympics and reflections on my own sporting career have led me to ponder a burning question: Where exactly do champions come from? Who are the main influencers and inspirations in the lives of children destined to shine in the sporting world? Is it Olympic champions, Grand Slam winners, or World Cup heroes? Or is it the parents—those unsung heroes who either push, support, or sometimes reluctantly accept their children's choices? The answer seems straightforward: parents, particularly mothers and fathers. Sure, coaches and friends can play a role, but ultimately, it’s the parents who hold the keys to the sporting kingdom.
As the daughter of a volleyball player, my sporting path was somewhat predetermined. I mean, let’s face it—when your dad is a volleyball player, the chances of you picking up the same passion are pretty high. It’s like a genetic lottery, where tall parents produce tall children who can reach for those high-flying volleyballs. Fortunately for me, I fell in love with the sport, and my childhood was a blissful journey of early morning practices and public transportation rides to the gym. My dad never interfered in the training process or offered unsolicited advice to my coach. Instead, he simply provided love and support, especially when I made the big move from Ukraine to Russia for my national team career. I guess you could say he was the MVP of my life—Most Valuable Parent!
Now, as a mother myself, I find myself applying the same philosophy with my son. Admittedly, I nudged him toward volleyball at first, but it turns out he prefers kicking a ball rather than spiking one—much to my chagrin. I sometimes wonder if I should have insisted more. Who knows? He could have become the next big volleyball star! But alas, the odds of him becoming the next Manuel Neuer are looking a lot better. He’s currently training with a professional club, and I take a backseat, letting him navigate public transportation like a true athlete. Maybe I should channel my inner Soviet coach and whip him into shape with some “real discipline,” but then again, do I really want him to suffer for greatness? I was trained in an environment where resilience was key, but I can’t help but think: Is that the best path for him?
This thinking led me to consider the extreme lengths some parents go to in the pursuit of their children's sporting success. Due to my frequent travels lately, I was watching a few movies on the plane, and they all were united by the same thread: stories about raising champions. Take the Williams sisters, for instance. Their story in “King Richard” is a fascinating mix of genius and madness. The father poured everything into their tennis careers, and it paid off—big time. He raised champions who became role models for a generation. But then there are the darker tales, like “The Iron Claw,” which tells the story of the Von Erich wrestling family, leaving a trail of tragedy in its wake. What drives a father to gamble so heavily on his sons' success that it leads to such heartbreaking outcomes?
And let’s not forget the infamous Tonya Harding, whose story in “I, Tonya” sheds light on the lengths to which some parents will go. An alcoholic and abusive mother pushing her daughter into the icy world of figure skating at a tender age—what could possibly go wrong? Spoiler alert: a lot.
The moral of all these stories remains elusive. It seems clear that discipline, sacrifice, and a laser focus on sport from an early age are essential, but only parents can decide whether that journey begins or not. How many success stories will we celebrate after the Olympics, and how many will remain untold? The chilling reality is that many children become victims of their parents’ unrealized dreams, driven by ambition, success, or the desire for glory.
As I sit here questioning my own role as a parent, I can’t help but wonder: Am I doing enough to create a homegrown champion? Or am I just creating an independent spirit who prefers a game of football over volleyball? Time will tell, but for now, I’ll just keep cheering from the sidelines.
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