More questions than answers as we return
IN MANY ways lockdown was a walk in the park, or more accurately a stroll up and down the same stretch of road every day, because that’s as far as we were allowed to go.
It may have been prohibitive and mind-numbingly boring at times, but at least the message was clear – stay put until you’re told otherwise.
A few weeks ago the horrible prospect of having no amateur sport whatsoever on these shores this year seemed a harsh, but likely, reality, and as otherworldly as it may have seemed, I had reluctantly made peace with the idea.
However, we now find ourselves in a fresh Hokey Cokey-style purgatory, where you put your left leg in, out, shake it all about and in the end don’t know what the bloody hell you’re supposed to be doing.
Confusion reigns as we’re now left with more questions than answers as the country attempts to tip-toe, feline-like back to something resembling normality.
Should we wear face masks, will the kids be able to return to school as normal in September and, the one that’s responsible for the most head-scratching, why in the name of God would anybody join a line at some ungodly hour of the morning to shop at Penney’s?
I can understand people queueing for concert or match tickets because they’re likely to be sold out within minutes and it’s the only way of guaranteeing entry, but onesies, leggings and underpants would hardly be cleared from the shelves that rapidly.
Each to their own I guess. On Saturday, when we brought the pup for his first visit to the beach, something I witnessed highlighted the folly of the current limbo we find ourselves in.
The poor little pooch, like those who have been cocooned for months, was a bit hesitant about getting into the car because his last two journeys ended up with him getting vaccinations from the vet, but thankfully this time the tail was waving manically upon arrival.
When we got to our destination, not only were we greeted by the lovely lapping sound of the sea as it caressed the sand, but also the noise of leather on ash as a club hurling team were being put through their paces in preparation for the forthcoming championship – needs must and all that.
I guess it’s not a bad setting for a training session, but probably one that would be used sparingly if their own facilities didn’t remain off limits at present.
On our journey to the beach we drove past a number of pitches that lay dormant just begging for lads to puck a few balls around on them and it all seems a bit silly, especially when you consider the ridiculous numbers that are lining up to get into clothes and DIY stores and the like.
All players, in whatever code, will be coming back to their sport of choice in circumstances completely alien to what they were accustomed to.
Some will take to it like a duck to water, while for others it will feel extremely uncomfortable due to personal circumstances.
Yes, professional sportspeople may have been getting back to it in dribs and drabs over the past few weeks without too many hiccups, but they’re undergoing rigorous testing, something which will have put worried minds to rest.
So many questions, but as a parent of an eight- and ten-yearold, the biggest one for me is, will the kids enjoy their sports when they come back?
Will it be worth it, in a new sanitised environment where every ‘i’ will have to be dotted and every ‘t’ crossed?
There’s no doubting that they could do with the benefits that sport brings after spending so long on the sidelines.
There’s only so much time they can spend blasting shots past daddy dearest before it becomes humdrum.
Skills challenges on Facebook or Twitter can while away a bit of time, but as the days without playing sport with friends drag on, they have become more and more drawn to the lure of their tablets or the Nintendo Switch, where friends are lying in wait for online battles, camaraderie and a small bit of a competitive edge.
Of course, we impose time limits on the amount of screen time they’re allowed, but it’s noticeable that the young lad in particular, who, in normal times, would have to be dragged in from the garden at nightfall, has temporarily lost some of his zest for sport.
I’ve no doubt that the passion will return when they’re back on the pitch gleefully playing with their friends.
Or watching their local and national heroes strutting their stuff and trying to recreate what they’ve witnessed in the garden as the imaginary roar of the crowd reverberates through their brains. However, the questions remain. Will it be possible for them to garner the same sort of excitement and thrill from it, if they are hindered by too many rules and regulations?
Unfortunately absence certainly hasn’t made the heart grow fonder when it comes to my children and sport, and from chatting to friends it’s not just in our house that the apathy has started to creep in.
For sure, there’s a difficult balancing act ahead.
We don’t want our children to lose an important year in their development, but equally they can’t be brought back to an environment that’s devoid of the most important thing in sport at their age – enjoyment.
There’s still more questions than answers, but as we did during lockdown, we’ll adapt with time.
We simply have to.