St. Lawrence, NL – I’m not oblivious to the fact that, at times, I’ve lived vicariously through my child.
You see, in my own sports career, I played—or at least tried to play—just about every sport that was available. There were even a time or two when I attempted to start teams or introduce sports that didn’t exist in my corner of the world, often with little to no success. I was never what you’d call especially talented. But one thing I never, ever lacked was passion.
I loved sport.
I gave it everything I had. I probably spent more time thinking about it, practicing it, and chasing it than I should have. My schoolwork and other parts of life suffered because of it. But through all those years, one thing never faded—my passion.
When I had a son of my own, I introduced him to every sport I could, as early as I could. By the time he was four, he was already an athlete. And I didn’t just want him to play, I wanted him to excel. I wanted him to be the best version of himself.
And that’s where, I suppose, I began living vicariously through him.
Fast forward eleven years.
I now have an 15-year-old son who is a well-rounded athlete. Talented in just about anything he tries. But there’s one roadblock I keep running into, and it’s not just with him. I see it across the board with kids his age.
The passion just isn’t there the way it used to be. In many cases, the days of eat, sleep, and breathe your sport seem to be gone.
Some of you reading this might think that’s an overstatement. But for those of us who lived it, who still feel it, we know exactly what that level of passion looks like.
It’s early mornings. Late nights. Endless practices. Weekend tournaments. It’s going from one season to the next without ever really stopping.
It’s a way of life.
And here’s the thing, everything feels great when you’re winning.
This year, we won just about everything. The same group of boys dominated across multiple sports. We come from a small school, but a proud and competitive one. Most recently, we took a team of just 20 students from Grades 10 to 12 and won the provincial 2A boys basketball championship, after winning 1A the year before.
Back-to-back provincial titles. Moving up a division and still coming out on top. It was incredible.
But in March, it all felt like it came to a sudden stop.
These boys have won multiple provincial banners across sports. But come June, nearly 90% of that team graduates. What’s left behind? Three Grade 11s—and a large group of Grade 7s.
Realistically, across most sports, it’s unlikely we’ll even make it out of our region next year.
For someone as passionate as I am, that’s a hard pill to swallow.
How do you go from winning everything to staring down a season where success feels so far out of reach?
I’ve tried to get ahead of it. I’ve tried to light a fire under the returning players. I’ve encouraged them to start now—prepare, train, lead the younger group so next season doesn’t become a rebuilding disaster.
The response? Very little interest. Especially from my own son. And that’s been the toughest part.
It’s made me realize something I didn’t want to admit: no matter how hard I’ve tried, I haven’t been able to instill that same hunger, that same burning passion, in him.
I’ve told stories. I’ve shared experiences. I’ve encouraged leadership. I’ve tried to inspire. But I haven’t been able to spark that flame. And I’m not entirely sure how to process that.
So I ask myself, do I love it too much?
Some might say yes. Others might say it’s inspiring. Either way, it doesn’t change reality.
I’ll admit, I’ve lost sleep over this. I’ve laid awake at night trying to figure out how to fight what feels inevitable. I wish the passion I have for sports was something contagious. Something I could pass on as easily as a conversation. But it doesn’t work that way.
There are too many distractions now. Too many things competing for attention. Things that often replace the drive and desire that once defined young athletes.
And I know it’s not just here.
I’ve had the same conversations with parents from other regions. Different sports, same concerns, whether it’s hockey, soccer, basketball, or anything else.
The passion is still out there… but it’s scattered. Fewer and farther between.
I hope that changes.
Because for those of us who have lived it, who still feel it deep in our bones, it’s not just about winning.
It’s about caring.
And it’s a difficult thing to sit back and watch that slowly fade.
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