Written by Nicole H, Pittsburgh, PA
What would I give to go back to 3rd Grade? In 2015 … not a darn thing.
When I was in 3rd Grade I learned that any number times zero is zero. I took second place in the spelling bee because I spelled the word “penguin,” P-E-N-G-W-U-I-N.
Straightforward. Simple.
Courtesy: ymcatricities.org
I also had my introduction to how competitive sports can be. What I learned first was this: just because you show up for tryouts doesn’t mean you’ll be selected to the team.
I also learned about my parent’s devotion. My mother never missed a thing when my brother and I played. My father certainly didn’t miss the games either … well … he was our coach. And after each game (when every kid got to hear minutes about their strengths and weaknesses) we got to hear it on the way home and while we washing up, brushing our teeth, and doing other things … all the way up to the time we closed our eyes at night. If there had been social media in those days, then we’d probably have gotten a text or tweet, too.
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All the while my mother knew that my dad wanted us to be: the best we can be. No favorites existed. The best players played in situations to win, but the team learned and grew together. The coaching was fair to EVERY player.
Other parents were cut of the same fabric. Parents filled the stands. They cheered for every kid, and they kept on cheering, even when we seemed discouraged. When I screwed up a play I got pulled to the sideline (to reflect on what I could have done differently). My mom still cheered on.
The coaches’ kids had it the toughest. My father wanted to coach for that reason—to make kids better. He wasn’t a board member; he wasn’t there to make friends; he wasn’t making money on the deal; and he certainly wasn’t attempting to groom pro athletes. He was there to apply his knowledge. The goal was to create an environment that contributed to young peoples’ growth and development. There were no two sides to him. He wasn’t Superman. He was, and still is, the same: at home, and at work is the way he is with sports.
But let’s fast forward about a quarter-century (a generation) from then to now. Parents and coaching are ruining youth athletics.
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Let me count the ways—five to be specific.
First, you can’t raise your voice to a child without getting a teary-eyed look in response. Kids look to the stands for their parents.
Second, you can’t sit in the stands without parents ripping apart every coaching move.
Third, parents make side-comments about plays—not about their kids, but about others’ kids.
Fourth, every parent seems to be “coaching” their child. How about being a spectator instead, mom and dad? Enjoy the games.
Fifth, I learned that my kids play under a microscope. When my son messes up a play I see disappointed looks on parents’ faces. But when their children mess up, it’s different, like: “It was a bad pass from a teammate.”
Take me back to the days when—if you didn’t make the team—your parent said: “Work hard and try again next year.” But today it’s: “You didn’t make because the other kid’s dad is friends with the coach” or something like that…an excuse.
Courtesy: mogosports.com
Even coaching has changed. Coaches should coach to make a difference—for everybody—from the most talented to the least talented kid. I watched one coach single handedly ruin a season because he decided to coach 4 out of 12 players. I knew what position his son would play before I knew the names of most of the team’s players.
And social media has tarnished prospects for being personable and owning responsibility. People hide behind IPads and the like, emailing and texting each other with gossip and negative comments.
I have an athletic 3rd Grader at home. He’s a sweet and kind; and he’s a team player. He’s also unmanageable to coach at times. But he’s never told: “It’s not your fault.” I want him to achieve because he has earned it—not because I coddled him and fought battles for him. In contrast many parents feel as though their kids are Super Heroes: they do no wrong, only right.
We need to go “Back to the Day.”
