Tripleheader treat
There have been many reasons my mom has been good to me, as far as stuff a mom is supposed to do, but the thing she does for me as far as what a mom isn’t supposed to do is incredible, and that is the time she takes out of her day to partake in sports activities with me. I can’t even think of comparing the times she has played catch with me to any other mom. She also plays hockey with us at Evergreen Lake. She even goes on runs with me.
We are from Evergreen, and I play for an Arvada baseball team, and she drives me down there without a word about it.
From reading this paragraph you can see that my mom isn’t like many other moms. She’s a sports mom.
Jack Daly, age 13
My mom is patient. She is very athletic; she teaches yoga. She loves watching my games. She takes us to places where we get to go to games and stuff, like when we went to New York, we went to a Yankees game. She likes to play whiffleball and she always has fun when she plays with us. She is always there for us.
Liam Daly, age 9
Mom takes us all to our practices and games without complaining. She always loves to watch our games and she always cheers us on. She loves to play catch with us and she is good at it. And after watching all of our games, she still takes us to Rockies games.
She’s the greatest sports mom you could ask for!
Matthew Daly, age 8
Varsity mom
My sister and I think our mom deserves a big salute for being so supportive. We both played on the varsity basketball team this past year and our mom was always there for us.
Before home games, she would make a big meal and encouraged us to invite all of our teammates over. She even had a custom-designed T-shirt that she wore during every championship game!
During the state tournament she drove over an hour to bring us pillows, blankets, food and medicine so that our hotel room would feel just like home! She was our caretaker, our nurse and our counselor, and we want her to know how much we appreciate her. We love you, Mom!
Lauren Baity, Denver
Hidden motivation
My mom took my brother and me to Yankees games in the 1940s and 1950s when they played doubleheaders on Sunday. We would leave early for the drive from Jersey to the Bronx and take brown bag lunches. General admission was $1.25 for great seats.
During batting practice, we went with our gloves to the short right-field stands. Although the games did not end until late, she let us wait outside the players’ exit to see all the Yankees greats emerge.
Years later we asked Mom how she could do all this. “It was easy,” she said. “I loved the Yankees and I had a crush on Joe DiMaggio.”
Gene Keith, Fort Collins
Drive time
Her claps always rang the loudest – through the gym, the ballfield or the swimming pool. Her voice, quiet in conversation, could take on a compelling ring when she was shouting encouragement from the bleachers or the sidelines.
A typical day in my teens would see my mother rise at 4:15 a.m. to take me to the pool, 45 minutes away, for morning practice, return home to do my brother’s paper route while he still slept, grab a quick bite with the youngest child and then drive another 1 1/2-hour round trip to retrieve me and drop me off at my summer job.
Afternoons would find her driving carpool to soccer practice and T-ball games, and the weekends were full of sporting events that she or my father would always attend. I remember countless long drives to swim meets, where she would sit in an uncomfortable bleacher seat with newspaper and coffee in hand, scanning the myriad colored caps for her daughter, hoping not to miss that one-minute race that was the focus of our day. When I moved on to college competitions, I sorely missed her warm smile and her sole question, “How do you feel?” after I raced.
Now she is teaching my 3-year-old how to kick the ball in the backyard, her sporting influence extending to a new generation. Her example is compelling, challenging and gratifying. On this Mother’s Day, I truly want to say thank you.
Laura Dravenstott, Centennial
Quiet courage
Summer 1959. I woke with every sunrise, grabbed my racket and whacked a gazillion tennis balls against our garage door. I was 7 years old, and I was passionate about tennis. Mom had never played; at least I never saw a racket in her hand. Still, she began chauffeuring me every day to our country club, Green Gables, for training with the pro. She would hang by the pool or play golf; I would rarely see her.
Then came the tournaments. Mom drove me to every match. City Park held the city competitions. The Denver Country Club hosted the state championships.
Arriving at the swanky Denver Country Club, we passed through the gates and followed the wide, landscaped roadway. I squirmed in my seat as we approached the parking lot, and Mom calmed me with encouraging banter, smiles. She never seemed uncomfortable anywhere.
We made our way to the mansion-like clubhouse. Throngs of boisterous, white-clad kids and their parents swarmed around as Mom and I checked in, found our assigned court. Then she sought out a spot midway up the nearest bleacher.
She was my entire cheering section. I can picture her sitting there: her plaid Bermuda shorts, a matching sleeveless, button-down blouse, a Green Gables visor to ward off the mean, mile-high sun. A circle of blank seats slowly formed a border around her. She was all alone.
Eventually my tennis fervor waned, and my preteen self-absorption matured into teenage thinking. It was then I learned the truth of Mom’s sacrifice. Green Gables was a Jewish club; I knew that all along. This is what I did not know: At that time, the Denver Country Club did not allow Jews to be members. For four summers Mom shielded me from this – so I could compete – while she drove through those gates feeling we were not welcome.
Mom’s only armor had been her love for me.
Judith S. Gelt, Centennial
Supporting voice
The way I calculate it, you have been to more than 600 of my baseball games in the past 28 years. It started as a player with T-ball at age 4, little league, high school, college ball and continues today as a coach at Smoky Hill.
My lasting memories are of you in the stands narrowly dodging foul balls, our weekly dinner after a Sunday doubleheader at Northern Colorado and your supportive comments after a tough day at the plate: “Even though you struck out a couple of times, your swing looked really good!” Believe it or not, your comments did ease the frustration.
Happy Mother’s Day, Mom, and thanks for your never-ending love and support.
Riley J. Scott, Lander, Wyo.
Mom the coach
When I was 12, my older brother Bob and I signed up for the first-ever season of youth softball in the suburb of Cleveland where we grew up. Our mom drove us to City Hall for the “draft,” basically a guy pulling names out of a hat, and got more than she bargained for.
By night’s end, they were one coach short. The odd team out, mine and Bob’s, couldn’t play without one. So my mom volunteered.
Before long, my mom could fill out a lineup card, make a batting order and cuss out an ump like a champ. Our team, the Conquistadors, mowed down the competition like dandelions. Our only loss: the final game, when we were so sad the season was ending we could barely lift our heads, let alone a bat.
My mom still has the trophy. And though I haven’t played softball in years, I still know when to hold the bag or tag up, and how to hit the cutoff man – all because my mom stood up for the team nobody wanted.
John Jesitus, Thornton
Constant help
My mother grew up in southeastern Colorado and loved to play football. She would outplay the boys until she figured out the boys had fragile egos that didn’t take losing to a girl very well!
When I began playing baseball, my mom and dad spent hours every week pitching and shagging balls. Well, guess who did most of the shagging without a single complaint? My mom.
Her encouragement was what I appreciated most. She would always remind me to keep my elbow up when I would come up to bat. She even reminded me to keep my elbow up during a tennis match in high school. You should have seen all the frowns on the faces of the proper tennis crowd when she would yell, “Good job, Pat, keep your elbow up.”
My mom contributed to my love of sports.
Patrick J. McCoy, Lakewood
Coach’s loving wife
One of the many sporting memories of my mom was our annual trip to Kansas City for the old Big Eight preseason basketball tournament. It took place a day or two after Christmas, which meant we traveled on Christmas Day or the day after.
My mom, the wife of a basketball coach, not only had to manage all the fixings of Christmas but had to prepare my two brothers and me for the trip.
It took place in a time when most people got dressed up to be on an airplane. While Dad was attending to the players, Mom attended to us. We would arrive with great anticipation. The tournament was glorious for a kid and to be in the same hotel as the teams and especially my Dad’s players was beyond fun.
It was the best Christmas present we could have ever received. Even though both my parents are gone, what they did for us kids and the incredible people they introduced into our lives was immeasurable. Now that I have my own family and manage the work involved in the holidays, I appreciate my mom’s efforts even more. Her devotion, sacrifice but most of all love was incredible. I only wish I could tell her how much it meant to me.
Cindy Walseth Axley, Boulder
Sports heritage
As I was holding court recently with several colleagues about sports, one asked me how I got to be such a big sports fan. The answer was easy and automatic: “My mom.”
She grew up in Wisconsin and always said her mother had a picture of Vince Lombardi taped to the inside of the kitchen cupboard. I took her to see the Nuggets play the Pistons so she could see Isiah Thomas. We’ve gone to the Rockies, the Avs and the Broncos.
Every year she predicts the Avs will win the Stanley Cup. (Although when they play well, she calls and says, “What do you think about my team?” When they play badly, she asks, “What’s wrong with your team?”)
Although we didn’t have many sports to play growing up, my sister and I played softball, my brother played baseball, and I swam and ran track in high school. And although she was a working single mother, she always got us to practice and she went to as many games and meets as she could.
Competing, for me, has been a lifesaver in so many ways, and even more so as I’ve gotten older. And I have my mom to thank.
I was reading a Sports Illustrated at the gym not long ago, and someone asked me if I subscribed. “No,” I said. “My mom does.”
Maria Kayser, Denver
All-star sports fan
Mom, I am not quite sure when or how your sports mania started. I was a poor softball outfielder, decent basketball player and a good track and fielder. By no means was I an athlete that would inspire your current passion for all things sports.
Twenty-five years later, you are the real deal. A tried and true sports fan. Sure, you regularly have tickets to the big games … Avalanche, Rockies and season tickets to the Broncos and CSU football.
But on the off nights, you are attending, watching, listening or reading about volleyball, basketball, hockey, figure skating, skiing, snowboarding, softball, gymnastics and many more sports. You’ve seen the Denver Broncos win the Super Bowl, CSU bowl games, NCAA Madness, World Alpine Ski Championships and the Parade of Roses prior to the Rose Bowl, of course.
Now I am an adult and as no surprise, you are attending my Vail Twin Peaks Women’s Hockey games all across the state
I am still an average athlete but you are a super sports fan and an all-star Mom!
Laurie Mullen, Vail
Total sacrifice
Time frame: June 1967. Mom gets breast cancer. Radical performed. Radiation and chemo done together.
August 1967. Private school. My parents are struggling financially but want me to attend. I want a football scholarship badly because I know that my parents can’t afford college for me.Son tries out for the team. Surprise! Becomes a letterman!
Fall 1969. Mom’s in remission.Senior year. My two best friends in school join me as tri-captains. Small school. Seventy in our graduating class. Every night throughout the season, my mom demands that I bring my practice uniform home so that she can wash it for me so it will be clean for tomorrow. Won’t heat up leftovers from the family dinner because I have to have a fresh cooked meal. It didn’t make me a better player, it just made me feel better about myself, and she was smart enough to know that.
In the fall season she felt strong enough to come to a few games. Thank the Lord, I scored a few times for her. No scholarship. Just wasn’t good enough. End of season. I thought that two dozen roses (I have no idea where on a part-time job that I found the money), but she was worth every penny.
1971. The cancer came back with a vengeance.
June 1971. Mom went to join the angels, which she was. I lost a loving mother, a wise adviser and my closest friend. My two co-captains helped carry her coffin. Thanks for being you. I miss you always.
David E. Daniels, Cleveland, Ohio
All day long
My mom, Marilyn Petterson, sacrificed so much for me to participate in many sports growing up. I was a competitive figure skater from ages 4-16. In those 12 years there were many ways my mom was instrumental in helping me achieve my goals and dreams.
On a typical school day, here is an example of how dedicated my mom was. She would wake me up at 5 a.m. and drive me to the rink for my sessions starting at 5:30. She would go home or to the office and then pick me back up at 7:30 a.m. to drive me to school, about 15 minutes away.
After dropping me off, she would head back to work until 2:30 p.m. She would leave work to come pick me up at school and then drive me back to the rink. I would have afternoon sessions until about 6 p.m. while she would go back to work to finish her day.
A few nights a week she would drive me an hour through rush-hour traffic to dance/jazz classes that would last until 9 p.m.
She would use her precious vacation time to spend paying for and taking me to competitions so that I could once again fulfill my dream of being an accomplished figure skater.
It’s hard to explain in words the amount of sacrifice, support, dedication, time, love and patience my mom did for me in sports and many other aspects of my life. I never became a known figure skater or anything close to it, and I never heard my Mom complain once.
I find myself smiling and tearing up when I think about how much my mom did for me to see me smile when I accomplished big or little achievements in sports and life. As a mother myself, I often reflect on the deeper meaning of what it means to call my mom “Mom.”
Kelly Smith, Littleton
Behind the scenes
I have been involved in sports since I can remember. My mom, Ann Vogel, was THE ride for everyone on my teams. She made sure she put her working hours in so she could be at our practices and games. She carried more sports gear in her car than most equipment managers do now.
My mom participated in everything for me. She and my dad sponsored Vogel Roofing Baseball teams in AABC ball for years, starting in 1979. My mom went to all games, including out-of-state ones. She was totally dedicated to us. That was her summer vacation.
My mom and Fred Garcia started a Denver fall baseball league in 1980. It didn’t catch on right away, but I’d like to think she was the catalyst for the fall teams today. Thanks, Mom! Happy Mother’s Day! I love you.
Dan Vogel, Aurora
That’s the ticket
When I hear the words “sports” and “mom” together, the first thing that pops into my head is “unselfish.” My mom constantly gave of herself so I could pursue my sports passion.
For some reason, the top sports memory I have of Mom is from 1970. Spencer Haywood had taken this town by storm. He had the ABA Denver Rockets on a tremendous hot streak and playoff run. My dad and I were caught up in the excitement. However, tickets at the old 7,000-seat Auditorium Arena were scarce. If you wanted to get in the game that night, you had to be in line for tickets that morning. Only problem was, I was in school and Dad was at work. So, Mom stepped up, drove downtown, stood in line for a couple of hours and bought tickets for a game she wouldn’t attend.
Sure, she was at virtually every game I played from age 7 on. I can still see her in the stands cheering for me. But what sticks in my mind the most is what she did for me away from the courts and fields. I remember torn, grass-stained uniforms that were magically white and sewn in time for the next day’s game, thanks to Mom. I remember Mom driving me to Little League practices and then waiting patiently in the growing dusk for practice to end. I remember Mom spending hours relacing a baseball glove that I had torn at that day’s practice – because she and my dad couldn’t afford to buy me a new one. I remember Mom taking me to the doctor’s office to get the physical that was required to play football … and back to the same doctor’s office after I was injured in a game.
Unselfish. Yep, that’s the word for my sports mom.
Thanks and Happy Mother’s Day, Mom!
Ken Reed, Littleton
Complete devotion
In 1938, Lois Sessions married Donald Sessions and moved to Aurora. As that city grew, their family also grew. They had their first son, Donald Jr. Seven years later she began a routine of transporting young Don to practices and games as he participated in football, basketball and baseball. When Don Jr. was 16 years old, the transport stopped, yet the attendance at every game continued through the end of his career as a professional baseball player.
While this was going on, Lois and Don had three more children: Bob in 1949, Dean in 1950 and Dana the little sister in 1958. Bob and Dean played baseball, football and basketball. The transport to practices and games continued. Lois and Don saw just about every game played by the three athletes. Dana was dragged to all the above, and not surprisingly, grew to dislike sports. She turned 18 and moved (escaped) to Maui, Hawaii.
Lois was an incredible mom who devoted her entire life to her kids and grandkids and was undoubtedly their most devoted sports fan. She was the glue who held our family together. We continue to remember her with tremendous awe and admiration.
Dean Sessions, Westminster
She’s there to help
As an 11-year-old athlete, my mom, Pam Brendel, is a helper in many ways. She is the one who takes time out of her day to get me to my sports practice and buys all my equipment. Although I have a brother and sister, she tries to attend all of the games I play, either football, baseball or basketball. Although she is not the kind of mom who cheers like crazy when her kid does something, she encourages us to play. She is not a sports fanatic, but she enjoys watching us play unless we get hurt. She is the best mom in the world.
Austin Brendel, Denver
At every game
My mother, Debra Bunker, has been supportive of my brother and me since we were young. When I was playing softball for a recreation team, my mother would never miss a game, and helped coach me. She would always help me with my hitting or grounders.
Rain or shine, my mother was out on the field with her never-give-up attitude. Now that I am in high school, I play three sports. My mother has been known through out the team as “the lady who never misses a game.”
When my brother was first on the swim team for our recreation center, he would always have to be at warm-ups early in the morning. I can guarantee she never missed a sunrise those few years.
Mom has always loved watching her kids succeed in athletics. I would like to thank my mom for her dedication. She refuses to miss a meet or game. I love the way she will support my brother and I until we are finished with sports.
Becca Bunker, Parker
Feeling better
I would like to thank my mom for all the practices she attended, for all the support she gave me during my games and for being there when I was emotionally drained. Through rain or shine, my mom was there for me during my basketball, volleyball games and tennis matches.
The best memory I have was when my mom and I were running late for my soccer game. We stopped at the 7-Eleven to pick up breakfast. Between my mom driving fast to my game and eating doughnuts and drinking orange juice, my stomach felt like it turned over. I asked my mom to pull over because I was sick. We were on a highway, and my mom pulled over right away to let me do my thing. After I was done, I remember the look on her face, which made me feel at ease. However, she was really worried because she was afraid that we were going to get hit since we were on the highway. Thank you, Mom. I love you.
Tricia Barajas, Colorado Springs
Time to root for mom
Dear Mom, I would like to take time out of my day to appreciate what you do for me and our family. I would like to thank you for taking time out of your day to bring Lauren and me to our sporting events.
In all of this chaos you still manage to find time to train for one of the world’s hardest races, the Ironman Triathlon. And not only train, but be very good. I would like you to remember how hard you worked to make it to Kona and to do it again this June so that we can come and cheer you on instead of you cheering us on.
You work full time and have to travel every so often. Even though sometimes it doesn’t look like it, I love you and appreciate what you do for me and this family. Mom, I love you!
Nick S. Alfino, Highlands Ranch
Dedicated chaffuer
Most kids say that their mom and dad don’t do anything for them, but my mom and sometimes my dad (but mostly my mom) drive me to evrything I do especially sports. My mom has taken me to so many baseball that I’ve lost count. She’s also taken me to almost every football game since I was six. Once She took me to a football in two feet of snow. She’s also driven to basketball games at eight A.M. an eight P.M. I don’t know what other kids are thinking but my mom does almost every thing for me.
This is dedicated to my mom, Pam Brendel.
Davis Brendel, Denver
