a secure base—a support system to encourage us, that was there in times of need, and that let us find our motivation to succeed.
Parents have a huge influence on a child’s life, even when they are not physically present. Stu Isaac, one of my coaches at Michigan, who now uses his expertise to develop aquatic and sports facilities, speaks about his father: “My dad died when I was twelve. He continued to be an influence on me for a long time. Not because he was there, but because I . . . held him up on a very high pedestal.” The death of Stu’s father was a pivotal event in Stu’s life as a swimmer: “A week and a half after my dad died, my mom was carting me to Albany, New York, for a swim meet. Life went on, and we made the best of it. And that was kind of a breakthrough, because that’s when I broke my first national age group record, just ten days after my dad had died. I think her ability to continue on even though it was a crushing blow was probably the single greatest lesson I learned from her.”
Although what motivates each child to pursue a specific endeavour is unique, the promise of fame and fortune is one factor that cannot be ignored. There are two-year-olds out there being moulded for “greatness.” Children learn early on that they want to be a part of the celebrations, awards, and adoration they see on TV and read about in the social media feeds of their favourite stars.
Many of us contribute to this growing enthusiasm. We cheer and scream, celebrate and complain, live and die according to the success or failure of “our” team, of “our” favourite athlete. We follow the Maple Leafs, Yankees, Lakers, Wolverines, Manchester United, and so on, with our friends and family. We might root for the same team our parents cheered for. The budding athlete who loves to practice tumbling routines on the carpet, play T-ball at the park, or hit a tennis ball against a concrete wall gets caught up in these early cultural influences.
Then there are the children who need to prove something or escape a life of boredom, poverty, or worse. Take Kansas Jayhawks basketball player Udoka Azubuike. His childhood in Nigeria was filled with “poverty, heartache, terrorism and fear,” as he told a writer for Bleacher Report. As a child, Azubuike witnessed robberies, shootings, kidnappings, and killings in broad daylight. “I just got away from it as fast as I could,” he says. “I saw so many terrible things, so much violence . . . I don’t like my mind to think back on it.”
As talented youngsters get stronger, faster, and more coordinated, people take notice of them. Azubuike was first spotted at a Basketball Without Borders camp. He said about leaving Nigeria and immigrating to Jacksonville, Florida, at the age of thirteen, “I didn’t think twice . . . I wanted to survive.”1
For promising young athletes, first supporters include more than just parents and local coaches. Teachers, neighbours, and family friends may also play a role. In a few cases, well-known heroes of the sport encourage up-and-coming athletes and may help them navigate increasing social pressures. Toward the end of his stellar hockey career, Gordie Howe encouraged ten-year-old Wayne Gretzky, which years later Gretzky said felt like “winning the Stanley Cup for the first time.”2
Through participation, young athletes are on the receiving end of a wide range of emotions: happiness, sadness, surprise, disappointment, fear, anger, and disgust. Those first competitions, those first expectations and challenges, form the foundations of athletic identity. Sport can be a wonderful venue for early feelings of satisfaction, confidence, and belonging. Young athletes discover the importance of teamwork and of working together for a common goal. Parents, friends, and fans cheer them on, supporting and congratulating them every step and every score of the way:
“Way to go! Great game!”
“That’s a fantastic swim you had!”
“Wow, you rocked that!”
“What a catch!”
“I’m so proud of you!”
The praise and encouragement is positive, uplifting . . . and addictive.
Alongside meeting daily expectations set by others, such praise can create an unintended habit of people-pleasing as the athlete steps up to standards set by others. Our early environments can create subconscious behaviour patterns in our later lives. Constantly trying to satisfy authority figures is a never-ending game. It’s natural for children to want to please the people they love, respect, and learn from. This can quickly turn into a habit of performance for praise, but when the child does not perform, the praise might stop. For every star athlete there are many youngsters who never reach the heights that others hope for them and so may believe they have disappointed the adults in their lives.
THAT FIRST REAL BREAK (HOWEVER SMALL)
My first real break as an athlete came when I was ten years old. In fact, it wasn’t really a break, and I didn’t really consider myself an athlete in those days, but I did win the Bike Safety Rodeo Award, a prize sponsored by the London, Ontario, Optimist Club. That sense of excitement and accomplishment, the realization that other people were watching and supporting me, the idea that I was in charge of my own performance and result, the joy in feeling encouragement and celebration—all these things affected me back then, and the reverberations of them stay with me to this day.
When I received that award (the plaque is now in a box somewhere at my parents’ house), I felt profound satisfaction. It didn’t really matter that my two older sisters laughed at me. “Big deal!” their laughter implied. “That award is for nerds!” To me, the prize was so much more. It signalled that I was beginning to test myself, to find my unique strengths. My oldest sister was good at school and rode horses. My other sister was interested in music. And then there was my brother . . . the boy. This first award, my award, demonstrated that I, too, was special.
Not long after I won the award, a family friend encouraged me to start swimming. My long arms and legs and my big feet may be why people saw athletic potential in me. My parents had encouraged me to take a Red Cross swimming and water-safety course, and one of the instructors suggested I consider competitive swimming. In my naive enthusiasm, I went home and asked my parents to sign me up.
I didn’t realize I had to try out, and I didn’t understand the swimming hierarchy: there were big differences between the “A” pool group and the “D” pool group. I was thrilled when I was selected for the “C” group—I thought I had won the jackpot! I was now doing “competitive swimming” for forty-five minutes, three times a week. From that moment on, I’ve never looked back. I had found something I wanted to be good at.
This expanding encouragement was part of the pathway that eventually led me, at the age of fourteen, to leave my home and family in London, Ontario, for Fort Lauderdale, Florida, where I attended Pine Crest high school. I was excited by the adventure and the opportunity, but it also meant I would be swimming in uncharted waters. When I moved away from home, the only condition my parents set was that I commit to spending an entire school year in Florida. When I visited them at Christmas, I knew I had to return to the States for school at the end of the holiday.
Early involvement in sport shapes elite amateur and professional athletes. Your natural physical abilities, the capacity to train and work hard, the willingness to take instruction, and the success (and sometimes the money that results, in the massively successful spectator sports) are what you become known for and what society celebrates. But, just as with me, it all starts with a little sprinkle of support, a speck of personal pride, a commitment to try, and a bit of recognition by those who have influence.
THE GROWING COMMUNITY
At this early stage of development, members of the larger team—parents, coaches, and friends—form around you, influencing your trajectory. Your communities
