For the Love of the Game

Back in the good old days, which were the '80s ( for anyone who was wondering), I would take off on my bike and ride down to good old Trexler field for a game of kickball.  One of the parents would volunteer to umpire the game and we'd have a handful of fans.  My dad would beep as he drove by the field, on his way home from work, to let me know he had seen some of my game and he'd be back down to the field after he changed from work.  No pressure. I just wanted to play. 

 It really didn't matter if we had an ump or any fans, because my friends and I would have just played anyways.  We just threw the bases in the worn spots of dirt, no measuring tapes needed, grabbed a ball and pitched and kicked.  There would be a pile of bikes next to the dug out from all who rode to the field.  Good times.  We never needed money to play.  There was no snack bar for snacks, actually I don't even know if Gatorade was invented yet. Occassionally, someone would have Big League Chew gum.    We just used the dirty water fountain that the entire park used.  There were no fancy uniforms, just a t-shirt that said W.E.Y.C. on the back.  There were no demanding schedules.  The coach would just call the house and say, "Be there Tuesday and Thursday".  And, there were certainly no screaming parents.  Granted, it may have been because kickball is not an Olympic sport but all the parents just watched and cheered.  Just watched and cheered.  Times, it seems, have changed.

My kids are now in the busiest season of the year.  The time when soccer overlaps with baseball which overlaps with football training which overlaps with summer basketball leagues.  Maybe this is what brings out the worst in some of the fans, the kids' hurried schedules.  I'm not sure.   But, someone should honestly think about doing a reality show about the parents' of young athletes.  I am not a competitve person.  Not in the least-except for if we were comparing the latest fashion purchases ( I would totally want to beat you on that one), so maybe that is why I find such humor in the way some parents act.  I have seen grown men jump up and then down like a toddler (but they're 60) because they don't like a call.  I've seen parents scream at their young players for striking out, running slow, standing weird, looking up, looking down...you name it.  And, not just any screaming, screaming like a banshee so that the entire field can hear and the field next to us. They are usually so upset that they have to go to their car to calm themselves down.    I've seen parents yell at their kids after they have just struck out or pitched to many balls.  Seriously?  Don't they feel bad enough.   I've seen games called because of parents' behavior and the kids' walking off the field like they had done something wrong.  I've seen baseball bats hurled at parents and obscenities screamed.  I've even seen, and this one is ridonculous, a coach scream at the WATER BOY.  The water boy?  He's just a little kid with water for you, bucko?  And, this is grade school sports.   I'm not even in the big times yet.

My dad once told me that it's so hard to watch your child get coached.  Aw, dad, what the heck do you mean?  You just sit back and watch.  But, I get it, now, Pop.  It's so hard to watch your kids get coached by people who may need to be coached themselves.  There are some excellent coaches out there.  Excellent.  They know that they are coaching kids, which means they will use class, dignity and above all, respect, to show them how to play a sport.  From these people, the kids will learn.  From the others, I'm not so sure.  I wouldn't have learned a darn thing if my coach screamed at me to pitch the ball faster or worse yet, if  he threw the kickball at my head to "show" me how.  I would have ridden my bike home as fast as I could, because, geez, the game would no longer have been the same.  My spirit would have been broken just a bit. 

If we took away all the hoopla and the clinics and the fancy uniforms and the snack stands and the screaming, I bet we'd have what we all truly want for our kids.  We'd have a field lined with bikes,  ridden by kids who truly  will do whatever they need to do so that they can  play.  And we'd have a field or a court lined with parents who came to watch after work, just to cheer or give advice if their kid seems like he needs it.    And we'd have, the biggest perk of all, entire teams filled with kids whose spirits were all intact and ready to play ball, the best that they know how...just for the love of playing.