Monday, July 4, 2011

the diver

Dawson had initially planned to swim this year without adding diving to his schedule. I was relieved because it meant one less night of running. Scott was publicly supportive, but privately saddened because he finds diving to be such an elegant sport and, to be perfectly frank, Dawson is good at it.

He's a natural. The coach tells him how to move his body and he does it. For me, his completely uncoordinated mother, I find it incredible to watch. And Scott is absolutely right: there is a simple elegance to diving that Dawson's streamlined, muscular body seems to be made for.

After two days of watching the practice, Dawson came to me and said he had changed his mind about diving and would it be okay if he spoke with the coach about joining the team. We're already at the pool, so practice isn't too big a deal. And the meets are only one night a week - we can manage that. The season ends with counties on the last Saturday of July - seems workable. But mostly, it was the gleam in his eye as he was asking for my blessing. The light that said: I'm ready to be challenged.

Yesterday, Dawson's coach came to find us at the pool. It's the Sunday of a holiday weekend. Everyone is off and relaxing, lounging in the water, laughing at the cannonballs, and eating third helpings of the ice-cream sundaes we were assembling as our evening dinner. Yet here was the coach.

"Dawson really needs to go to diving camp this winter. He's good. Really good. And more importantly, he's coachable. He could really make something of this. You need to consider taking him to West Chester."

I glanced over at Scott and saw the same didn't see this coming look on his face that I was certain was on my own. The coach went on to talk about the other boy who goes through the winter, that we could probably carpool, that there might be scholarship possibilities, even just once a week would work at first . . .

We spent our Fourth of July doing all the things we love to do but struggle to find the time during the summer. Breakfast out at Shady Maple with a crowd of friends, watching LOTR in the living room with the furniture pushed out of the way and every pillow in the house brought down to create the ultimate viewing/napping environment, reading those I-can't-bear-to-put-it-down-and-now-I-don't-have-to books. But in the back of my mind all day was the conversation with the coach.

I find myself wondering how to balance the burgeoning talent of the one with the needs of the nine. How would we make this work?

I have no answers yet. I know that there will be many discussions between Scott and I accompanied by much prayer. And in the end, I know that whatever decision is made, it will be a good one. But for now, even as I'm reeling from the pronouncement, I am feeling incredibly proud.

My boy. The diver.

1 comment:

B Brown said...

I think that God will guide you to making sure that his talent has the ability to be tested and "coached". If it doesn't work out, at least you have a son who is happy to know that you gave him the chance to do what he wanted to do, and had been told he was good at.