Tuesday, October 23, 2007
The Politics of Youth Sports...and the Collateral Damage
I'm tired. I'm tired of feeling frustrated. I'm tired of feeling bitter. I'm tired of feeling negative. I'm tired of the drama that seems to be part and parcel of kids' sports.
When your 12-year old son leaves a two-hour football practice upset about something, and you find out it's because he overheard the coach telling another player's father that he prefers his son at quarterback--the main position your son has played all season--it makes you want to lash out and hurt that person the way he's hurt your child. I don't want to feel that way!
I know life isn't fair. I know that in my brain, but I still haven't accepted it in my heart.
The main problem, as I see it, is that the kids pay for the coach's indecision. Maybe that's the way it is in college and professional football too come to think of it.
This coach played my son in five different positions last year, and my son never complained. How can anybody improve when they aren't allowed the time to do so?
This year, my son worked out all summer as quarterback. He played the pre-season games and the first four games of the season as quarterback. He did a good job. He made some mistakes. He had some success. He has a calm quiet about him--a good characteristic for the leader of a football team. Then, after throwing one interception, the coach pulls him and tells him he'll be playing defense. Again, my son--although disappointed--didn't complain, and accepted his fate. However, one practice later, the coach tells my son that he'll switch off with last season's quarterback--who had been playing wide receiver this year--as quarterback. Sure enough, at the game the following week, he switches the two boys back and forth in the position. They each have their strengths. But, again, how can anyone find their place, if their place is continually moved?
Without any explanation, after the one game of "job sharing" the next game sees my son back to being the main quarterback. That lasts for four games. Now, with only two games left in the season the coach appears to be ready to switch the quarterback position again.
I think the part that bothers me the most is that for this coach, he's just playing a board game. For the kids, this is much more emotional. It's personal. They've worked hard--and I mean HARD--for four months. To not know where they'll be playing each time they show up seems to be an unnecessary complication. They're constantly waiting for the rug to be pulled out from under them. And I thought youth sports were for fun and exercise, not to introduce the kids to the politics of adulthood. Isn't there enough time for that later?
When your 12-year old son leaves a two-hour football practice upset about something, and you find out it's because he overheard the coach telling another player's father that he prefers his son at quarterback--the main position your son has played all season--it makes you want to lash out and hurt that person the way he's hurt your child. I don't want to feel that way!
I know life isn't fair. I know that in my brain, but I still haven't accepted it in my heart.
The main problem, as I see it, is that the kids pay for the coach's indecision. Maybe that's the way it is in college and professional football too come to think of it.
This coach played my son in five different positions last year, and my son never complained. How can anybody improve when they aren't allowed the time to do so?
This year, my son worked out all summer as quarterback. He played the pre-season games and the first four games of the season as quarterback. He did a good job. He made some mistakes. He had some success. He has a calm quiet about him--a good characteristic for the leader of a football team. Then, after throwing one interception, the coach pulls him and tells him he'll be playing defense. Again, my son--although disappointed--didn't complain, and accepted his fate. However, one practice later, the coach tells my son that he'll switch off with last season's quarterback--who had been playing wide receiver this year--as quarterback. Sure enough, at the game the following week, he switches the two boys back and forth in the position. They each have their strengths. But, again, how can anyone find their place, if their place is continually moved?
Without any explanation, after the one game of "job sharing" the next game sees my son back to being the main quarterback. That lasts for four games. Now, with only two games left in the season the coach appears to be ready to switch the quarterback position again.
I think the part that bothers me the most is that for this coach, he's just playing a board game. For the kids, this is much more emotional. It's personal. They've worked hard--and I mean HARD--for four months. To not know where they'll be playing each time they show up seems to be an unnecessary complication. They're constantly waiting for the rug to be pulled out from under them. And I thought youth sports were for fun and exercise, not to introduce the kids to the politics of adulthood. Isn't there enough time for that later?
Thursday, January 06, 2005
Late to the Party
Perhaps if I were younger, I would already have begun to blog. (Is "blog" a verb? Maybe it's only a noun, as in...."I would already have begun a 'blog'.") Don't get me wrong. I'm not "old". Well, I guess that would depend on your point of view. I'm 42, so I don't feel old. But, I guess if you are a teenager, or in your 20s--or 30s, for that matter--you might think that 42 is old. I am reminded of when I was a teenager, and everyone "of note" was older than I was. Professional athletes were older than I was. Olympic athletes were older than I was. It was so strange when I began to realize that I was now looking backwards in age at these people. When did professional football players get to be "kids"? So, apparently, creating and maintaing a blog is what the "young kids" do. Sure, I've heard of it...but I've missed the curve. I'm late to the party. I've never even kept a written journal. Oh, I've toyed with the idea off and on throughout my life, but other than a few pages at the beginning of the book, the pages all remained blank, and the journal was shoved into a drawer or a box. (It always seemed so pretentious or forced; so that even I hated to re-read it. [Are you supposed to re-read it? Or do you write it once, purge your soul, and move ahead--like therapy?]) But, maybe I'm far too "anal" to attempt something this public, this permanent. I assume it's permanent. Since this is my first entry I have no idea if you can go back and change things once it's posted, or it's forever there.....a part of history that can never be erased. Scary! I'm beginning to think that to blog, you must get over denial. You can certainly enact denial with a handwritten journal. Rip the pages out, throw them in the trash--or shred them, now that we're in the 21st century--and those thoughts never happened. ("What do you mean I didn't deal with that event in a mature and classy manner?! Of course I did! And you have no proof otherwise. [(And neither do I. Ha!"]) A handwritten journal is definitely for the sole purpose of the author. In fact, I'd go as far as to say that the writer doesn't intend for the contents ever to be seen...doesn't WANT the private thoughts ever to be discovered. But, that's not the case with a blog, is it? (Is it?) Is the first thing to be resolved whether you are writing for yourself or for others? Or does it matter? 'To blog, or not to blog?', that is the question.
