A Father’s Belief: Giving My Son What I Never Had

There are things you understand differently when you become a father.

For me, one of those things is simply being there.

My own father left before I was born. I grew up without that father figure beside me, without someone standing on the touchline, telling me they believed in me, pushing me forward or simply being there when I needed them.

I can’t change that part of my story.

But I can decide what Arthur’s story looks like.

And if there’s one thing I want my son to grow up knowing beyond any doubt, it’s this:

His dad believed in him. Completely.

More Than Rugby

Anyone who follows AT15 Rugby will see a lot of rugby.

Training sessions. Rugby camps. Tackling bags. Kicking practice. Matches. Muddy boots. Early mornings. Long drives.

But underneath all of that, there’s something much bigger happening.

This isn’t really a story about rugby.

It’s a story about a father and his son.

I believe in Arthur more than I can properly put into words.

I see his determination. I see how much he loves the game. I see the things he does well and the things he’s still learning. I see the player he is today, but I also see the player he could become.

And I’ll do everything within my power to give him the opportunity to find out just how far he can go.

Not because he has to become a professional rugby player.

Not because he has to win trophies.

Not because he has anything to prove to me.

Simply because he has a dream, and I believe in him.

Going The Extra Mile

Believing in your child is easy to say.

Living it takes something more.

Sometimes it means getting up early when you’d rather stay in bed.

Sometimes it’s driving miles to another rugby camp or standing beside a freezing pitch in the rain.

It’s finding the money for boots, camps and equipment.

It’s spending evenings holding a tackle bag.

It’s throwing hundreds of passes.

It’s kicking balls back to him.

It’s giving up your own time because those hours mean something to him.

And sometimes being a father means making sacrifices nobody else will ever know about.

I’d sacrifice almost anything to give my children the opportunities I never had.

But there’s an important distinction.

I don’t want Arthur to live my dream. I want him to have the freedom to chase his own.

If one day he decides rugby isn’t what he wants anymore, I’ll still be standing beside him.

Because my belief isn’t really in Arthur the rugby player.

It’s in Arthur.

What I Never Had

Maybe part of why this means so much to me comes from growing up without a father.

You can’t help wondering what that relationship might have been like.

Would he have come to my matches?

Would he have pushed me when things became difficult?

Would he have told me he was proud of me?

Would he have believed in me?

Those questions don’t really have answers.

For a long time, they were simply empty spaces.

But becoming a father changed the way I looked at them.

Because instead of spending my life wondering what I should have had, I can give my sons what I didn’t.

I can turn up.

Again.

And again.

And again.

I’ll Be On The Touchline

If Arthur has a great game, I’ll be there.

If he has the worst game he’s ever played, I’ll be there.

If he scores the winning try, I’ll celebrate with him.

If he drops the ball with the try line in front of him, I’ll be waiting afterwards.

If he gets selected, I’ll be proud.

If he doesn’t, I’ll help him dust himself off and try again.

And if rugby eventually takes him somewhere neither of us could ever imagine, I’ll probably be somewhere on the touchline remembering the little boy who used to practise tackling a bag in the garden.

But whatever happens, he’ll never have to look around and wonder whether his dad came.

I’ll be there.

My Belief In Arthur Is Unmatched

I don’t know where Arthur’s rugby journey will end.

Nobody does.

He’s still a kid with an enormous amount of growing, learning and living ahead of him.

There will be setbacks. There will be disappointments. There will be days when things don’t go his way.

That’s sport.

That’s life.

But there is one thing that won’t change.

My belief in him.

I’ll give him my time.

I’ll make the journeys.

I’ll make the sacrifices.

I’ll encourage him when he’s flying and pick him up when he’s struggling.

I’ll give him every opportunity I reasonably can.

Because when Arthur eventually grows up and looks back at his childhood, I don’t need him to remember every rugby camp we attended or every match we played.

I don’t need him to remember the score.

I don’t even need him to remember whether he won.

I just want him to remember looking towards the touchline and seeing me there.

And to know that, whatever happened on that pitch and wherever life eventually took him:

His dad showed up.

His dad was proud of him.

And his dad never stopped believing in him.