Debate, local sport | Great sports don’t just happen in the biggest arenas

Debate, local sport |  Great sports don’t just happen in the biggest arenas

Opinions This is a discussion post. The publication expresses the opinions of the writer.

Sports are the brief seconds between unbridled joy and endless sadness. Sports are personal victories and stormy cheers. There are new obstacles and a step forward. There are dirty suits and new shoes. There are hundreds of hours of service and many more disappointing accomplishments.

Probably mostly the last two. As for the sport, there are very few followers of Burke Road and Zuccarello.

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It is 11-year-olds who are the most optimistic who fight against themselves, the clock and friends. There are parents who freeze their fingernails and cough while cheering loudly at every game and every run under the floodlights and drizzle.

It’s a father sweeping the threadbare, slightly worn floor of a café after another shift. A mother stands deep in the forest and waits for hope as darkness closes in around her and the clock slowly ticks towards the day’s outcome.

But these are not the ones I hear about. This is not a sport we brag about.

Instead, one meter after another is filled with the municipality’s willingness to pay for the next great hall of the best sports and international stars appearing on the appropriate sandy beaches.

There is more room for immigrant stars than for native stars in the local press, and on the plains the volunteer stands with his hat in his hand and a little note in an annual report.

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Because no one wants to write about small results. Only great achievements.

What actually is a signal?

This week a club tournament was held in the heart of Squidalen. A record 237 youth and adults ages 3 to 76 took part in this year’s indoor battle in the surrounding terrain. Never has participation been so great, and never has it stood in such stark contrast with the news picture’s recent focus on rootless youth and the perpetual rock crushers of Bærum Vest.

But no one will say. No one had time to brag about everyone who worked, everyone who ran, or everyone who cheered.

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Because the sport wasn’t big enough. Not important enough. It was just local.

Maybe it’s just me who doesn’t realize that local sports shouldn’t have a place in local journalism or aren’t interesting enough for us who live here, but where would sports be if the big wins were just the ones we got to see?

What happens to the father who charges, the mother who cheers, and the pod who runs, if the only thing we are going to talk about are those who run at lightning speed on newly made floors and with the entire country as cheerleaders?

There are few things that move me more than the bodies of excited children pulling themselves across the finish line to wild cheers from parents and grandparents. When bright eyes look at life’s first medal while a big smile is framed by a veritable blackcurrant mustache in the sparkling winter weather.

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I rarely feel so calm in my soul as when the floodlights go out and the last bags of trash are thrown away after a day of tall chocolate cakes, starting numbers, speakers, and a little bit of chaos. When today’s great champions pat each other on the back and thank each other for their cooperation after a few hundred hours of planning and preparation, it absolutely annoys me.

Because the little moments today are the big moments tomorrow. I hope we don’t miss too many of them while filming Haaland on the beach in Baerum.

You can only read about the latest news in local newspapers.

note. I hope you have time to come to us next time, Podstika, because great sporting achievements happen when you least expect them.

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Dalila Awolowo

Dalila Awolowo

"Explorer. Unapologetic entrepreneur. Alcohol fanatic. Certified writer. Wannabe tv evangelist. Twitter fanatic. Student. Web scholar. Travel buff."

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