Jason Gay has a great column on the real MVP.
My mother never really helped me with sports. I’m not even certain if she loves sports. All she ever did was pack me up in the car for the first 17 years of my life, dragging me out of bed and telling me to eat something before driving me off to tryouts, to practice, to tournaments and playoff games that I can no longer remember. All she ever did was make sure that I always had a ride home after the game. All she ever did was abandon huge chunks of her day—her life—to make sure I could play sports with my friends because I enjoyed playing sports with my friends.
I am not sure what the big deal is about this. It’s not like my mother taught me how to throw a curve ball.