Alex Eala’s victory over four-time Grand Slam champion Naomi Osaka in the semifinals of the Mubadala DC Open was another historic moment for Philippine tennis. It was also another reason for parents to look at their children and wonder: Could my child become exceptional at something, too?

I am far beyond that stage of parenting. My children are now raising families of their own and guiding my grandchildren toward their future, encouraged by the signs they see in their children’s behavior—and, perhaps inevitably, by the dreams they themselves hold as parents.

A long time ago, I envisioned my son Carlos becoming an exceptional football player. When he was in Grade One, I enrolled him at the Ateneo Football School, although he was studying at Claret.

For many weekends, I woke up early to prepare his breakfast, drive him to Ateneo for football practice, and wait for the sessions to end.

Anything I had to do on Saturday and Sunday mornings had to be rearranged so I could accomplish it while waiting. I edited and wrote stories, and even conducted interviews, from my car or under a tree in the parking lot. A few times, I scheduled meetings with news sources at a restaurant along Katipunan Avenue so I would remain near enough to hurry back and pick up my son after practice.

I was not the only one who thought he might become a good football player. He carried the same name as the cousin of my husband who had been a football star at Silliman University. His trainers had played with that cousin and with other members of the family who were known for their football skills in the 1970s. Perhaps they, too, thought that talent could travel through bloodlines—and names.

I am sure my story sounds familiar to many parents who, at one time or another, pushed a child to pursue what they believed was a promising talent. But I hope that, when the signs pointed elsewhere, they were able to let go and recognize that the dream belonged to them, not to the child.

Otherwise, what a waste of time, effort and resources it would be to pursue something that may not have been there in the first place—or something the child never really wanted.

In my case, the dream of my son becoming a football star fizzled out after about two years. I watched all his games, sat through countless practice sessions and sometimes behaved like a coach, shouting my own commands from the sidelines.

I remember shocking his coach once when I threatened to kill Carlos’ fish if he did not score a goal! I even once brought a cooler filled with popsicles for the coaches and trainers—perhaps to refresh them after practice, but also, I now suspect, to encourage a little more patience with my aspiring football star! I still smile when I recall how far I went overboard as a stage mother.

Eventually, and reluctantly, I stopped the football classes. Carlos must have been relieved, although he never said so. Carlos is like that. He does not want to displease me.

Looking back, I realize that I had not really seen my son’s dream. I had seen my own.

But there are other cases. Alex Eala’s parents recognized her talent and gave her the support and opportunities she needed to develop it. Alex started playing tennis when she was very young. Her family opened the door, but she was the one who chose to keep walking through it.

That may be one of the most difficult tasks of parenthood: to recognize a gift, provide the conditions in which it can grow, and then gradually surrender ownership of the dream to the child.

Talent alone seldom takes anyone very far. A gifted child still needs discipline, repetition, sacrifice and resilience. There will be mornings when she does not want to train, days when she wants to quit, and defeats that make years of effort seem futile. At such moments, a parent may have to push—not toward medals, fame or the fulfillment of a family ambition, but through temporary discouragement.

A child cannot be allowed to abandon every pursuit simply because it has become difficult. Part of growing up is learning that excellence often lies on the other side of boredom, exhaustion and disappointment.

But there is an important difference between pushing a child through a difficult day and pushing that child toward a life he or she does not want.

Parents may see talent where a child sees only an activity he happens to do well. Perhaps talent is not the only question. Desire matters, too.

A child may possess the ability to shine in a particular world, but it is difficult to sustain excellence without some love for that world.

The answer may lie in listening—not only to what a child says after one bad performance, but to what he or she consistently says and does over time.

Somewhere, another Alex Eala may be about to bloom. May her parents recognize her talent and provide the guidance, support and opportunities it needs.

And may parents who are unknowingly guiding a child toward their dream recognize when it is time to stop pushing—and give that child the freedom to bloom in another field. (Email: [email protected])