Look, here's the problem.
I had a passing interest in athletics, but my parents never pushed me. I played a bit in elementary school, went to a couple of camps, got a little better in junior high, and plateaued in high school. At the same time I had other interests, did my best to have a good social life, kept my grades up, and got accepted to A&M. My dreams of being a pro athlete were just that, dreams.
Now that I have a unshapen lump of clay child of my own, I can succeed where my pitifully weak parents failed with me. Instead of giving my child the option to play sports, I will hand-pick their teams, coaches, and positions from the age of 6 months until they start therapy at age 19. I will create an agility course in the backyard that includes feral hogs and alligators to increase their reaction time in stressful situations and I will construct a batting cage from scratch so they can start working on situational hitting every afternoon when they get home from daycare. By carefully shaping all of their actions, movements, thoughts, and aspirations over the next two decades, I will disable any preconceived notions they might have of being anything other than what I dictate - a superior athlete who will go beyond the limitations and disappointments of my own youth, and become the most important thing on earth - something for me to use as a bargaining chip when I have pissing contests with neighbors, friends, and coworkers on who has the best kid.