Why it's time to abolish the hideously competitive misery of school sports days, says ROWAN PELLING
The smell of mown summer grass turning to hay always takes me back to school sports days and the lingering scent of failure circa 1978.
In a class of 25 children, I was always the last to be picked for any sport. And my phobia has continued into adult life, where I've done anything (faked a Covid test, pretended a great-aunt has died) to get out of attending my two sons' sports days.
To me, they are a gargantuan waste of time we should finally do away with. For a start, any residual knockabout fun has been replaced by a spirit of ruthless competition.
Rowan Pelling says that sports day is deathly boring to all but the self-appointed head coach parents, who urge on their sprogs so vehemently they spit flecks of saliva into your hair
The gentlemanly spirit of Chariots Of Fire - the 1981 film where two athletes compete on their own terms at the 1924 Olympics - has long gone
Nowadays, you'd think schools were re-running the 2012 Olympics, rather than demonstrating that some genetically-blessed children can run faster and jump further than others — often in the summer rain, while dejected parents wield brollies.
The last time I actually attended school races, some years ago, I nearly had my eardrums burst by a mum yelling at her blond, long-legged son to 'overtake the small one'. The gentlemanly spirit of Chariots Of Fire is long gone.
I have a very practical reason to swerve them, too. As a working mum, I can't always take the day off. Yet, somehow, it's not socially acceptable to say you'll be absent because you're working to keep your children in trainers — even though I'm the sole earner in my household.
I dread that faux-sympathetic tilt of the head that stay-at-home mothers give you as they say, 'Of course you're always so busy!' meaning, 'You should be charged with child neglect.' A manoeuvre often followed by a mention of the one time in ten years you failed to make the Nativity.
Unlike me, my averagely-gifted sons have always loved school sport, but that doesn't mean I need to watch them participate, just as I don't watch them write an essay, solve an equation, or translate Harry Potter into French.
My sons don't require my presence, just as they know I am too whimperingly hypothermic to stand on the touchline during their footie matches. In any case, their school house (which puts siblings together) always comes last.
Rowan Pelling (pictured) says her sons love school sport, but that doesn't mean she has to watch them participate, just as she doesn't watch them solve an equation or translate Harry Potter into French
Some parents claim that sports day is necessary to foster children's competitive spirit, but, says Rowan, they should watch her kids play Racing Demon - the ferociously competitive card game
Why does no one ever mention the fact that if you're assigned to your school's 'loser' team, with no budding Seb Coes, you're doomed to failure?
Of course, there are always those who claim sports day is necessary to foster children's competitive spirit, but they should watch my kids play Monopoly, or Racing Demon (the ferociously competitive card game), or vie with their cousins as to who sells the most old clothing on Vinted. If anything, this urge needs putting back in the box.
So why can't we just admit sports day is deathly boring to all but the self-appointed head coach parents, who urge on their sprogs so vehemently they spit flecks of saliva into your hair.
Even worse than that is the traditional parents' race where dads who do Ironman and mums who climb Mont Blanc elbow you aside as they sprint to victory on gazelle-like limbs. I've thought of setting tripwires and landmines, but you don't want to be carted off in handcuffs in front of your red-faced offspring.
Although my own hopeless fate in such races pales in comparison to the time my 41-year-old publican mum (who became a became a local sensation by having a fifth child at 40) tried to compete. When it came to the mothers' race, our headmaster Mr Harrop announced he was holding a special event 'for the over 40s'. Mum had only one opponent, whose son was 11, and still managed to trail in second.
Author William Cash was dubbed a 'p****' on social media by his wife, Lady Laura, chatelaine of Upton Cressett Hall – a Grade I-listed Elizabethan property in Shropshire - for posing with a beer while on a break in Austria, while she was attending their children's sports day
Such events cast nobody in a good light. So I found myself heartily sympathising with author William Cash this week, who was dubbed a 'p****' on social media by his wife Laura for posing with a beer while on a break in Austria, while she was attending their children's sports day.
His spirited response was 'what sort of social crime is missing sports day — an event elevated to 'holy day' status?' I wholeheartedly agree.
Let's abolish this parade of dreary running, leaping and chucking things and look to the nation's favourite TV programme's for inspiration instead. How about Masterchef Day, with delicious picnics served for lunch? Or Strictly Day, with Year 11 perfecting the Tango? I'd say being a decent chef and dancer are far better life skills for most than hurdling.
