I never quite realized how competitive (or angry) I was until watching my boys play football today. The team I help coach picked up a win (2-0) while the other two boys landed losses (0-2, 0-2) with the eldest’s team looking flat out awful. That is where my story begins–with a culture that is not quite dedicated to winning. A parent said to me, “I don’t care if we win; I just want us to have fun and play well.” There is a disconnect between the idea of playing well and winning that doesn’t belong there. See, for many parents of youth atheletes, these two concepts remain independent. In some cases there is a legitimate culture against winning.
That brings me to the main point: Parents cannot see past their own children. I am part of the problem. When my son was benched a few years ago I immediately blamed the situation on a nepotistic coach who appeared to have more interest in putting forward a handful of key players than developing unskilled talent. Or maybe he just felt my kid didn’t have talent–either way there was no communication on how the kid could improve. This was the situation I dealt with today following our win. Two sets of angry parents had nothing but negative things to say about our organization and coaches from top to bottom. Why? Because their kids are not playing and in one case losing passion for the sport. Sound familiar? It did to me.
I have a soft spot for the situation and, for a second, I analyzed my entire history with this team and decided that this particular parent was smoking crack. Here is why: We play backups on both side of the ball, often playing an entire second offensive unit as our first unit of the game. Both of the kids in question are on that unit. This was not why the passion was fading. The passion was supposedly fading because the kid is a lineman and isn’t always getting it. Definitely isn’t liking it. He wants to be an NFL running back. He lacks the speed, agility, awareness, and communication to displace any of the 12 distinct players who have a chance to run the ball. Yep, 12. Out of 28. When I was an angry dad the number of kids who touched the ball hovered around 4. Out of 24. That number has since increased to six or seven and I applaud the coach for his growth. Still, 12? That deserves some measure of respect.
So that is the point: Respect. Those parents disrespected me despite me reaching out and trying to listen. In truth every time I reach out to listen to anyone I am disrespected. Being the nice guy means getting walked on and that is a crap lesson to learn.
Yet learn it I have.