Lehmo

An ony ‘Lehmo’ Lehmann

THE RADIO AND TV FUNNYMAN ON THE IMPORTANT ISSUES IN LIFE Sitting by the phone and waiting for “that” call can be a stressful time for the father of a freakishly talented young athlete.

That’s how recruiters work — they call, they make an off er and you have to respond. I don’t want to push my son in any particular sporting direction, I want him to make up his own mind, but he is young and some off ers will be better than others.

Late last year we sat on the cusp of the AFL trade period, a new summer of cricket, a fresh golf season, tennis was almost here and the Australian swimming championships were just around the corner, and the recruiters were out in force. Who would call, and would I be prepared to hand my son over to the ravages of a professional sporting career?

To be fair, he’s only four and I am probably getting ahead of myself, but I swear I’ve spotted something. I have — no, really. Or have I?

Like many parents I have taken to wearing a giant pair of rose-coloured glasses when assessing my child’s sporting prowess. Can you still lay claim to a glass half-full attitude when the glass is only 10 per cent full to start with? We started swim lessons when he was 12 months old and fi gured that before long he’d be freestyling, breaststroking, butterfl ying and deep diving his way around the pool.

Three years in and I’d love to see him dog paddle, just once, and maybe one day raise the courage to dip his head under the water. He hasn’t exactly taken to it like a ... well ... like a duck to water.

Initially, with the swim lessons I’d be in the pool with Laddie and my wife would stand on the sidelines. Laddie wasn’t settling, was distracted by Mum and often cried. About three lessons in another father said to me, “Is that your wife?”

“Yes” I responded, curious as to where this was headed.

“You’ve got to get rid of her.”

A bold bit of advice from a man who barely knew me and didn’t know my wife at all!

“Your son is distracted by her. If she leaves he’ll focus on the lesson.”

As it turns out this was excellent advice, though there were teething problems.

Week one without my wife there and I had to get into the pool with my son by myself. So, I sat him on the edge of the pool getting ready to jump in and then I’d pick him up off the edge. Good in theory but in practice he leant forward and fell straight into the pool, sinking like a rock!

My heart sank as I jumped in and retrieved him. He was probably under water for two seconds but it felt like two minutes. When I rescued him though, he was happy as Larry and had fi nally dipped his head under water.

Three years on he loves the water but isn’t exactly displaying fi sh-like characteristics.

Footy on the other hand has brought me (and him, I hope) a signifi cant amount of joy. I will never forget the moment he fi rst made contact with an Aussie Rules footy and executed his fi rst kick! I immediately imagined telling this story many years from now after he had won the Brownlow Medal.

My bubble was slightly burst when one day at the park a kid the same age asked if Laddie, then 3, wanted to kick the footy.

Laddie got excited and dropped the ball sideways on to his foot and launched a nice little kick, which ended up in the vicinity of the other kid. Then reality set in as the other kid picked up the ball, spun it between his fi ngers and delivered a perfectly lace-out drop punt to my son.

I’ve started playing cricket with him but he hasn’t yet decided which end of the bat he prefers to bat with.

Then there’s basketball, and the genuine joy he had when he threw his fi rst ever basket really did make my day.

Sadly, I may have introduced too many sports. He now kicks his basketball like a footy, kicks the footy like a soccer ball, uses a golf ball when we play cricket and uses a soccer ball when we play golf. If someone could invent a hybrid sport we may be on to something.

The phone is ringing, I have to go. It could be LeB ron James!