I remember the first time I competed in Brazilian Jiu Jitsu.
The moment I stepped onto that mat, I could not feel my legs. My opponent looked like he was standing at the far end of a tunnel. I’m not sure I could actually hear anything.
A high level of stress and my body was freaking out.
But honestly I think it’s more stressful to watch my daughter compete – in tennis!
An hour and a half on the courts.
Momentum swinging back and forth.
Errors.
Body language that spells absolute defeat.
I want to leap onto the court and give her the words that will turn things around. I want to shout encouragement and corrections during the match. I want to transfer my energy and strength to her.
But I don’t. It’s her journey. Her battle to fight.
So I keep my lips zipped. Once in a while I will applaud a point or compliment her serve.
And I know that the best coaching does not happen during a match. It comes in practices. In the quiet times. In all the days when she is not in the spotlight.
In the meanwhile, I’ll just grip the rail and bite my lip, and be carried along her journey.
