Little Egg’s match was a damp squib

My daughter, little Egg, played her first netball match this week.

I feel terrible, because I had to miss this milestone event due to work commitments, but her mother, the lovely Snapdragon, was right there next to the court when she made her debut as a future netball star.

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Or not, if you believe Snapdragon, apparently a tough competitor on the netball court back in the day.

I asked Snapdragon to send me pictures of my little angel’s performance and when my phone announced that they have arrived, I opened them in high spirits, expecting breathtaking action shots of Egg popping the ball through the hoop, fooling the opposition with blinding talent, showing breathtaking speed or whatever netball stars do.

On the pictures, Egg was standing on the court daydreaming, with no ball in view.

That night, Snapdragon told me the pictures aren’t proof that she lacks talent as a photographer – instead they are a reflection on Eggs’s talent as a netball player.

I asked her if Egg played well. She thought long and hard. “You seem unsure about her performance?” I asked.

“No, I’m very sure about her performance. It was terrible,” she said. “I’m just trying to find words that won’t hurt your feelings.”

Apparently, Egg didn’t touch the ball once in play. “She did touch it two times when the ball was out of play and she had to throw it in,” Snapdragon said.

“But she even made a hash of that.” “Did she throw the ball to the wrong players?” I asked.

“Worse than that,” she replied. “She threw the ball to players on the wrong team.”

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I’m told my clumsy little darling also fell down on the court when she tried to defend.

She did, however, manage to block a goal in the process, because her opponent laughed so much that she dropped the ball.

Parents are funny people. Despite my daughter’s apparent lack of netball talent, I was still the proudest father on earth when I applied plasters to her skinless knees and my own broken heart.

I wonder if that is how some of our politicians’ parents feel about them?

No matter what their offspring do, they remain proud moms and dads.

VBS bank? A botched DIY sofa upholstery project? Those petty details don’t bother them in the least. I’m ashamed to say it, but after my little girl’s netball match, I fully understand it.