“Just Watch Her” A Mother’s Role in the Making of an Athlete

When Karen Ekman’s daughter, Kelly, was just three years old, she got on a bike with training wheels, rode it once, then looked at her mom and said, “Take those off.” Moments later, she was flying down the street. No hesitation. No wobble. Just pure confidence.

From that moment on, Karen knew: this kid was wired a little differently.

A Family Built Around Movement

Karen grew up the youngest of several sisters in a close-knit, athletic family. As the “baby,” she benefited from more resources and time — and ended up becoming the standout athlete of the group. Years later, when she had her own children, she and her siblings found themselves raising their kids together in the Chicago suburbs, surrounded by cousins and competition.

Kelly was the only girl among seven boy cousins. From a young age, that meant being thrown into the mix, keeping up with the boys, and holding her own. When girls her age were doing ballet or just learning how to throw, Kelly was already dominating Little League games and leading youth basketball teams.

“She just had it,” Karen said.

Following the Cues

What struck me most during our conversation was how clear Karen was about her role: support, don’t steer.

“We didn’t push Kelly into anything,” she said. “We just paid attention.”

Karen saw herself less as a coach and more as an observer — watching for what lit Kelly up and then finding ways to nurture it.

Even when it came time to specialize, Karen admitted she had hoped Kelly would pick volleyball. But when Kelly said, “Basketball makes me happier,” Karen pivoted immediately. “Okay, basketball it is.”

That kind of attentiveness — following your kid’s cues, not your own dreams — takes discipline. It takes trust.

No Blueprint, No Playbook

Raising a high-performing athlete came with challenges Karen never expected. She often found herself on the sidelines, both literally and figuratively.

There were no support systems, no resources at the high school level to guide families through college recruitment or the pressures of youth athletics. AAU basketball wasn’t something easily accessible — Karen had to find it on her own.

And socially, it could be isolating. Kelly didn’t always fit in with other girls. She didn’t have a best friend group, didn’t go through the typical teenage phases. “She just wanted to play and have fun,” Karen said. “And for a while, that meant a lot of alone time — for both of us.”

The Moment It Got Real

By high school, Kelly was starting varsity as a freshman. She was excelling, but also navigating what Karen described as a lonely and mature world — practicing and competing with 18-year-olds at 14, sitting apart on bus rides, coming home to friends who were still fixated on makeup and boy bands.

But none of that stopped her. Kelly stayed committed — to the sport, to her studies, to being the best version of herself.

“She only ever got two B’s,” Karen said, still a little in awe. “She was just… that kid.”

After the Final Game

When college basketball ended, the structure that had guided Kelly for years disappeared — and with it, the clear path she’d always followed.
It was during a visit from her stepfather Bob that things began to shift. He didn’t come with pressure or answers — just steady reassurance: We believe in you. You’ve got what it takes. Let’s figure this out together. As Karen put it, “Kelly had so much more, and we knew it — but she didn’t know it, yet.”
With that quiet confidence behind her, Kelly began navigating the professional world, eventually becoming Director of Sales and Marketing — a role she embraced as those around her continued to reflect back the leadership she hadn’t yet seen in herself.

Reflections from the Sideline

Karen’s parenting philosophy is one that stuck with me — and one I think many of us need to hear more often:

“You raise good kids first. The rest will come.”

She never set out to raise a D1 athlete. She set out to raise a kind, committed, balanced human — and the athletic success became a byproduct of that.

Some of her takeaways for other parents:

• Watch for your child’s cues — let them lead the way.

• Keep family balance — treat all siblings equally, even when one stands out.

• Support without pressure — be willing to pivot based on what makes your child happy.

• Require follow-through — no quitting mid-season, but no pressure to return if they don’t love it.

• Let sport be the bonus — not the goal.

“She Just Turned Out Awesome”

When I asked Karen about her proudest moment, she didn’t name a trophy or a title.

“She’s just a really good person,” she said. “That’s what I’m most proud of.”

Kelly’s athletic journey — the drive, the grit, the leadership — is still present in her life today. It shows up in how she leads her team, how she navigates challenge, how she keeps showing up even when things are hard.

If she could go back, I wonder if she’d tell her younger self to enjoy it all just a little more — to trust that her path would unfold, even in the messy in-between.

But honestly, I think she’s living that now.

What About You?

💬 What Did This Story Stir in You?

Karen’s story reminds us that raising athletes — or being one — isn’t about following a playbook. It’s about listening, supporting, and trusting the process.

👉 If you’re a parent or coach: What cues are your kids giving you right now?

👉 If you’re a former athlete: What support shaped you most — and what do you wish you’d had?

We’re building a resource for families navigating sport and identity — and we’d love to include your voice.

💡 Share your reflections in the comments, send us a message, or lend your voice.