If the weather did not oblige, then often picking up other people's children, putting the gumboots on at the park, greeting other parents all looking like they wish they were elsewhere.
Getting Big Sister and Little Brother fed, ready for sport, little fellow off to soccer with his little mates, usually about four in our car, big sister getting ready for netball, more complicated as teenage years arrived for her as it was afternoon games, the whole day lost for sport. Little Brother in the morning for football, Big Sister in the afternoon.
Big Sister liked to be dropped off either down the road or out of sight of the netball courts and we were not allowed to enter with her, not cool.
Little Brother was just happy to be there until older years when he also developed coolness. Both were secretly pleased Mum or Dad or, sometimes both were watching but we were not allowed to say anything.
Never being one who is short of an opinion and always ready to express it, I found this very challenging. One day I made the mistake of accusing the netball umpire of favouritism. Well, she was the mother of the girl Big Sister was marking. I got the stare, ice-cold, learned from her mother no doubt.
Mouth closed, I awaited the inevitable. At the end of the game I was firmly instructed by Big Sister that I was no longer allowed to watch her play, it was just too embarrassing. I apologised and brought her a pie from the tuckshop at the netball courts. Pies were the "go-to" in those days at both netball and football grounds. Then often Maccas on the way home.
Next week I dropped Big Sister off; she looked at me and stalked off to her mates. I drove away.
Well not really, I drove to the car park and walked around the outside of the courts to where she was playing and watched from there. I was not alone.
There were several fathers in attendance, many of whom I knew, all standing watching their beloved daughters play netball. All had been banished by their daughters for misbehaving in their presence, embarrassing them in front of their friends and any boy that just happened to be lurking nearby.
Well, most of us spent a week or two there until we got back into the good books, with promises to keep quiet.
Both kids played Saturday sport right through their schooldays so Saturdays, for years were just all about sport. Getting home with dirty gear, tired, still hungry, annoyed if there had been a loss, then onto the next adventure, often more sport in the backyard with mates or Big Sister socialising. Dad and Mum sitting down resting, looking forward to a Sunday lie-in if allowed.
Mind you, we had managed to catch up with many friends during the day, parents doing the pleasurable mahi of supporting their little ones.
As parents, we never knew one of the thousands of children playing sport in our town could one day be an Olympian, a Silver Fern or an All Black. Actually, one or two of my children's friends did reach those exalted heights of sport in our country.
Of course, most children just enjoy their time playing sport before moving on to other distractions, many still playing sport at their respective skill or interest levels as time goes by. Parents recover, Saturdays eventually become just another quiet day after a week of work.
This is why as a country New Zealand punches well above its weight on the international sporting scene. We raise children who play sport, mostly with strong support from parents who did exactly the same thing as children.
Sport is changing in New Zealand. There is much more diversity in sport nowadays. I always assumed rugby union was the sport with the highest participation rate for school-age children. It was third after netball and basketball in the 2021 secondary school sport census, followed by volleyball and football.
The census sadly shows that, compared to the previous census, 17 out of the 21 sports listed had significant drops in participation numbers. The worst? Rugby sevens, down 58 per cent.
