A reminder of the power of sport

My grandson was 10 years old when he first came to know me. My daughter and I were estranged until then (as sadly, we are again now).

His name is Costa; he’s half Greek, half Kiwi. When his parents first separated back in 2003, when he was 11, the courts gave custody of Costa to his mother, who was at that time living with me.

The first thing I did was to take Costa to a rugby club. I figured it was something we could do together and from that a relationship might grow, even flourish. He showed not the slightest interest in rugby so I quickly gave up on that.

He was an uppity little guy who seemed to lack ‘radars’. He had also shown no aptitude for sport. None. Add to that a distinct lack of interest of any kind in his schooling; he seemed to be a kid heading nowhere fast (he was suspended twice in his first two years at secondary school).

I feared he was on a very slippery life slope.

Costa returned to his father in mid-2007 and, to my pleasant surprise, I heard he’d taken up rugby league at school – and was excelling at it, so much that he was selected to represent the SA under 15s. We gradually resumed contact, although I did not go to see him play.

Earlier this year, to my great delight, he expressed an interest in playing rugby union again so I took him to an Adelaide rugby club and signed him up. By then he seemed to have moved on from his earlier antipathy towards me. Growing up, I guess. He was also filling out spectacularly. Not tall but decidedly ‘built’.

He played his first union game on the wing in a sevens tournament here in Adelaide on the weekend. He was a revelation, scoring five tries in three games and being awarded man-of-the-match in the first game. He tackled fearlessly and ran through opposing players and around them to score – just sensational.

By the end of the unbeaten day he was a club hero; his name was on everyone’s lips, coach, club president and team mates.

‘Got any more where he came from?’ I was asked several times.

Where do I start? Well, and not because he is my grandson, I saw a kid ‘grow’ yesterday and walk through a vital door that he had opened for himself. A young man had not only gained the back-slapping, hair-tousling respect of his peers but also pride in himself. You could see it in his eyes and the way he walked. He wasn’t cock-a-hoop about it, modest in fact – but pleased with himself beyond words.

My own grand paternal feelings aren’t that important here but suffice to say I felt an overwhelming sense of pride in what I witnessed yesterday – and hope.

I was reminded of the power of rugby (and other sports) to change young lives for the better. I was reminded of my own boy-and-teenagehood. I wasn’t much good at school work but I did make my mark in rugby which in turn opened all sorts of life doors for me.

Costa made such an impact that he’s been selected for the SA U16 state trials this coming weekend. If he plays like he did yesterday he may well find himself playing against the cream of Australian schoolboys later this year. And after that who knows?

In the meantime, Costa has been given the wonderful gift and power of being able to dream – and for good reason. I for one will be most curious to know where those dreams take him.

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