Another change story: sports, politics, and life
Here’s the story of a man whose political change was sparked by a kids’ basketball game, of all things.
Roland Toy ran up against a group of liberal parents who wanted to protect their fourth-graders from the pain and struggle of a championship game—the thrill (and bragging rights) of victory, as well as the agony of defeat:
Surely we could all agree that the real reason for the competition was to teach the boys cooperation and sportsmanship. Playing the game would mean one of the teams would lose, which would lead the winning team to “bragging rights in the schoolyard.” And that would not be healthy. It would undermine the real lessons to be learned about self-esteem and mutual respect.
This was a turning point for the author of the piece, who realized that the divisions were ultimately political, and that he—a lifelong Democrat—was on the conservative side of this one.
I had a somewhat related although very different experience when my son was young and playing Little League. The community in which I lived back then was unlike Toy’s. Oh, lip service was paid to the Little League idea of fostering self-esteem: coaches were required to let every player into the game for at least two innings and one at-bat, however lousy his skills. In practical terms, however, that meant that a great many players sat on the bench most of the time, in the hot sun or the frigid cold (game weather always seemed to alternate between these two extremes), during the many long hours that constituted the seemingly-interminable Little League games.
In my town (unlike Toy’s), kids’ sports were hugely competitive and the PC contingent was small or nonexistent. It was the sort of place where parents sometimes ended up arguing in the stands about a bad call, or yelling at their kids—or even on occasion slugging it out with each other or the ump, although fortunately I never actually witnessed the latter.
My son was a decent enough player—fair to middling, neither a star nor a goat. Most coaches allowed him to play somewhat more than the two requisite innings. But he was not one of those players who always got to play entire games, although on a good day it could happen.
Things went along just fine until one year he came across a coach I’ll call Mr. Martin (the coaches in our town were always “Mister,” never addressed by first names). Mr. Martin was a volunteer, like all the coaches, and like the rest he had his strong habits and opinions and was not to be crossed.
His son was on the team. His son’s friends were well-represented there, too, and Mr. Martin favored them mightily. No matter what their skills—and some of them were very poor players indeed—Mr. Martin let his son and his son’s friends play for the entire game, every game.
Those who were not of the inner circle—and my son was not—got short shrift from Mr. Martin. He only allowed them to play the minimal two innings, game after game after game (and believe me, there are a lot of games in Little League), no matter how well they might be performing during those two innings.
It was hard on my son. But baseball rules were baseball rules, and we knew from experience that a coach’s decisions were law with no appeal, as long as he followed the Little League rules (our son recoiled in horror at even the idea of our talking to the coach about it, anyway). Sometimes our son said he wanted to quit, and my husband and I were placed in the position of counseling him.
Although our strongest instincts were to protect him (our baby! out in the cold cruel world!) we decided it was far better that he stay in the league and finish the year if he could possibly stand it. We gave him pep talks about Life and Hard Knocks and Learning From Adversity and all those cliches that actually have meaning, and then we gritted our teeth and sat in the stands and watched all the games. Each time he was pulled out after two innings, he’d grit his teeth and look away from where he knew we were sitting, and we’d try to keep our heartrates down below the rapid pace to which they’d suddenly shot up in anger and frustration.
I remember the worst game of all. My son’s team was behind, and even the most solid members didn’t seem to be able to do much of anything with their at-bats. My son, however, had managed to get a very solid hit—an earned double—in his very first at-bat, and then to successfully steal third in a gutsy move, although he remained stranded there at the end of the inning. He had some nice fielding moments, too, and I thought that this time the coach would have to leave him in. After all, he was the only thing going on offensively and defensively for the team that day.
It seemed I was correct, because when it came near the time for his second at-bat (and third inning!), he strode to the on-deck circle and took a few practice swings. Then, when the player ahead of him struck out, he approached the plate.
Mr. Martin, who’d been engaged till then in studying the clipboard on his lap, suddenly looked up and saw my son. The coach quickly stood and waved at him with a frantic come–over-here hand motion, as he yelled my son’s name and yelled “You, out!”
Another kid trotted in to replace him. I could feel my son’s fury as he walked, silent and contained, to the dugout (not really a dugout, of course, but a bench behind a protective wire fence). As for me, I simply could not sit still; I jumped up, climbed down from the stands, and began to pace in back of them, nearly hyperventilating in my own rage and frustration. I found that I could not look, and for the very first (and only) time, I left the game and drove home without staying till the bitter end.
My son, on the other hand, sat there for the whole thing; he had to. I’m not sure what sustained him—perhaps the knowledge that if he left he’d be known as a quitter. When the three of us assembled at home (my brave husband had managed to stay, as well), we all agreed that our son would stick out the season. Which he did.
I bowed to no one in my desire to protect my child. But he was growing up, and I knew I had to try to prepare him for the world as it is, with all of its disappointments, not the world as I might wish it to be. Unfair Little League coaches were a piece of cake compared to some of the things that could happen out there, and there was no way to protect him. All I could do was love him, support him, and try to make him strong—stronger and better than I was. Isn’t that what every parent wants?
Neo, You just described the Little League season that we’re playing right now. My son is a star, or could be, but only the 5 coaches’ sons play the infield and stay in for more than two innings. If we were winning it wouldn’t be quite as painful, but we get blown out of every game, and they’re usually called on the 10-run rule after the 4th.
The head coach admitted that this is what he’s doing, and one of his assistants physically threatened him and walked out of a game with his son because he moved him out of the infield for an inning. The next game, there he was making errors at shortstop once again.
My son spent hours and hours over the off season practicing, and shaped himself into an excellent player, to be rewarded by standing in the outfield for 2 innings, then sitting in the dugout.
It’s hard to shape that lesson into anything that will convince him that work and perseverence pay off. It’s also a poor message that the coaches are sending their own sons.
I simply cannot understand why PC parents think that “self-esteem” and “mutual respect” are more important lessons to learn than good sportsmanship (winning and losing with grace), coping with and overcoming adversity, learning from mistakes, and so many others that competitive sports can teach better than nearly any other method. Especially today when it is so easy to see how the lack of these important lessons having been learned among today’s adolescents and young adults has translated into people of extremely poor character who can’t cope with real-life problems.
When my baseball-playing nephew was scouting colleges, he went to his first choice, only to find that the coach’s son was slated for the same position he coveted. Down the road was another, lesser-known baseball school, that had recently hired a former major-leaguer as a coach. My nephew was escorted around the campus, shown the baseball facilities, and chose to attend the second school, based simply on the quality of the surroundings and the expertise of the coach, who he didn’t recognize. After seeing a trophy in the school’s trophy case with the coach’s name on it (he had attended the same school), my nephew was astounded to learn the coach had been a World Series MVP. Long story short, he stayed four years, wound up going to the D3 World Series, made All-American, and was drafted by a major league team last week. At the first college, the coach’s son turned out to be a bust; the school my nephew attended swept them in a 3-game series near the end of the season and knocked them out of contention for the conference title. So much for baseball nepotism.
15 years of hard work and real-world experience has resulted in my nephew realizing his dream. Too bad nannyism has deprived a host of other kids of the chance to see what hard work and dedication can really mean.
I got roped into coaching a kid’s recreational soccer team one year (strange position for a childless bachelor to be in, but there I was, clipboard in hand; at least I couldn’t be accused of favoring my own child), and dealing with the parents was a far greater challenge than handling the kids. The one advantage that I had (this was in the mid-1980s) was that I was the only adult affiliated with the team who had actually played competitive soccer, so I knew a lot more about the game than the other parents. I doubt I’d have that edge today.
I didn’t worry about the referees; they were kids themselves, young teens mostly, only a few years older than the players. Of course they made mistakes, plenty of them, but they made them impartially, so it all evened out. But the parents were a real handful. From the guy who tried to beat up the 13-year old ref for giving his son a yellow card (the ref was generous; if I’d been the ref, the color would have been red), to the other fathers who drove their sons relentlessly, to the mothers who cussed like sailors over a blown call or missed pass, I got a quick education in the dynamics of organized sports at the elementary-school level. Much of it wasn’t pretty.
But having said all this, at least we agreed that if the kids were going to make the effort to play, they should try to win. That was never in doubt. We never ran up the score against a weak opponent, but if a player had a fair shot at goal, he took it. Same thing if the other team scored a few more than necessary on us. That’s how the game is played. Just work on the defense more. And at the end of the day, I always found it far more satisfying, and better for “my” kids’ genuine self-esteem, to give it our best effort, win or lose. Real self-esteem comes from real achievement, not from over-protection.
Too bad nannyism has deprived a host of other kids of the chance to see what hard work and dedication can really mean–stumbly.
Too true, but those kids do represent opportunity once this nation undergoes a repentance and renewing.
This article might help persuade my girlfriend.
Her son is a star player on a basketball team.
She is mighty perturbed about the parents who seek fairness in playing time – especially during close games.
The coaches are constantly having to deal with these parents.
In basketball and in the free market – those who work/play hard should realize the fruits of their labor.
So, these coddled children grow older (but not grow up) and when they get their first job cannot understand why they are not immediately made president of the company. After all, they think to themselves, Mr. Rogers said he loved me just because I am me.
I went ta college and got the same (unearned) A’s jus like everyone els and so what if I didn’t larn nothin. I put the time in and deserv all the reewards that I’ve earnd for puttin myself out to go to those boring classes and sit thru that crap and that creepy professr. What da ya mean I have to compete with these other slobs. Dont ya understand how important I am and how lucky you ar to get me. Just caus I cant spel doo to my texting in school is no reason not to giv me the position I haven’t earned and cant handle.
LisaM you are describing word for word my son’s experience in Little League. The team won zero games while my son sat on the bench. My advice; find another sport.
My son went on to become a star cross-country/track runner and captain for his High School team. He is still in top physical condition and the natural high from running alleviated a lot of teenage angst through the High School years. I’d also recommend swimming (daughter did this one); another sport were you can excel based on individual talent/ability and have a team experience. Oh, and watching your child outrun the coach’s son… priceless.
How old fashioned..
today most kids don’t have a father around.
and their mother is too busy with her own self to attend…
This is how they deal with it in Canada:
http://news.nationalpost.com/2010/06/01/win-a-soccer-game-by-more-than-five-points-and-you-lose-ottawa-league-says/?preview=true&preview_id=7652&preview_nonce=e6fa056a34
Unbelievable.
I coached AYSO for five years. The rules about everybody plays is designed both to give everybody some time on the field and to prevent a coach from playing only the best, all the time.
There were also rules about assigning kids to teams and coaches designed to prevent a coach from building a dynasty.
My father, coaching girls’ softball in the Sixties, noted an opposing coach running only the first five of his batting order, starting over again, for advantage.
Lots of nutcase adults.
This didn’t happen when kids played their own pickup games, self-segregating into roughly equal skill levels.
Wow! Congratulations!
OB:
Thanks. We’re watching his progress closely…his minor league season starts this Saturday.
Ah, roads not taken and all that.
I had the best day of my life at the plate in a doubleheader during a tournament in college with MLB scouts in attendance. I’d been violently ill all the preceding week, and would have given anything for a rainout. I just wanted to get each at-bat over with so I could go lay down again and resume praying earnestly for death.
But, perversely, for some reason I could not miss that day. It was like hitting a beach ball with a guitar. Afterwards scouts came to talk to me. I laughed, and told them if I could do that every time, we’d have something to talk about, but they’d just seen the best day at the plate in my life. (I hit in the .300s in college, which is respectable, but not good enough; guys who are really good hit in the .400s.) I went to grad school instead.
Nowadays, playing in an adult league with a number of ex-MLB and minor league players, I know I made the right decision. Still, sometimes… sometimes….
In last year’s league we didn’t keep score, because it was “instructional.” However, after the game each and every boy on both teams knew the score. One liberal mother was indignant at that and told me, “They should be punished for keeping score!” I laughed and told her it was human nature.
Communism goes against human nature…
I work hard. I work hard for my family – not the one down the street…
Lisa:
That’s just the thing–the kids always know the score, and it does no good to pretend it doesn’t exist. The kid who misses the ball, screws up the pass, fumbles the kick…they KNOW that they aren’t cutting it, and what does it do to “self-esteem” to give them a blue ribbon for screwing up?
oh how lucky we are that our son preferred track team!
thanks for telling me.
Great story, Neo. A commentary on some of the truth about our society and youth sports.
Why do the parents take their kids’ sports activities so personally? As a therapist, I’m sure you know. Just my amateur opinion – It seems that the parents’ self esteem is often more involved than the kids. We parents seldom are objective when it comes to our kids’ abilities or talents. It’s amazing that they grow up as normal as most do.
As an example, my old alma mater has not had a winning football season in the last three years. Those three years have featured the coach’s son at QB. It has been a complete disaster. No parent should ever try to coach their own son/daughter unless they have the wisdom of Solomon. There may have been some cases of successful father/son, coach/athlete partnerships, but precious few.
Even good coaches can play favorites. No one is immune to losing objectivity. Something we might all do well to remember.
Thankfully my days of involvement with youth sports are long over. I was as bad as anyone though. Got into a big hassle with a judge at one of my daughter’s horse shows. Made a real a** of myself. Not something to be proud of.
A British friend of mine who coached soccer professionally used to say that kids don’t have a problem with competition. It’s the adults who can’t handle it.
I feel as a private sector employee that i’m sitting on the bench now while the “coaches” kids are sitting pretty in govt or govt subsidized union jobs. But I think they’ve got a horrendous season coming so i’m optimistic i’ll get to bat again soon.
But when you see your kid in one of those unfair situations and he handled it well, it’s, well, awesome. At my son’s awards dinner his senior year, the coach ignored him. He was the only player who had played both offense and defense all four years. Team captain. The coach didn’t mention his name. Worse, he laughed at his own team’s efforts for the year–it had been a bad one. It was left to my son, as captain, eyes huge with the effort to keep tears back, to give the speech the coach should have–to single out players for their efforts, to rally them, to tell them how great they were and how much they had to look forward to the next year. An amazing achievement.
I’m not as noble. I went up to the coach afterward and told him I hoped some day someone would be as kind to his sons as he had been to mine. He thought it was a compliment.
Non-competitive, or mildly competitive games are good in their own way. I have nothing against them and the lessons taught there. Children play lots of those and enjoy them.
Competitive sports teach a different set of lessons. With five sons, all of whom played some sport, I can’t begin to generalise what their experience was. Each saw unfairness and had to deal with it. Two were the youngest and seldom-playing members of championship teams – a stroke of undeserved luck. They each had seasons where by age and skill were among the best players in the league and others when they were below average. Jerk coaches, great coaches.
Keeping score and allowing the best to shine creates some hard edges. But it is only against these edges that some lessons can be learned. I love this sport but I’m not very good at it. Do I switch sports or stay with what I love? There’s an adulthood lesson for you. I am being treated unfairly and I see now that this will not change this season. What are my choices? You will ask yourself that question about a job at least once in your adult life. Others are being treated unfairly. What should I say to them? And also, Is there some trick or strategy I can use to improve? Can I carve out a niche or a role even if I am not the star? Should I make an all-out effort this off-season for one last try at this sport? Should I try something else entirely? Soft edges take those lessons away.
However, that is for older children. In general, children up to age 12 should simply learn the fundamentals and learn to love the game. Then, in a game that they love, they will endure the toughest coaching and the strictest regimen and thrive on it.
One of the salesmen at my old firm told me this story (he had pitches in the majors for the Cleveland Indians):
HE was coaching a little league team and had a “Problem Father”.
Father: “Why don’t you do this or that?”
Jack: “Not good for the kids to try a curve ball at this age. Bad for their arms.”
Father (screaming): “What do you know about baseball pitching?”
Jack: “I pitched for eight years in the majors for Cleveland Indians”.
Father: “That’s what I mean….what do you know about baseball pitching…etc., etc..”.
“oh how lucky we are that our son preferred track team!
thanks for telling me.”
You’re welcomed bench sitter.
In the long ago, kid’s activities were not very organized. I was fortunate enough to grow up in a city that had a fine Recreation department which supported loosely organized sports from about 5th grade upward. No parental involvement whatsoever.
Even so, most of our activities were spontaneously organized by the participants. You better believe we kept score. But, after the post-game crowing was over, it was forgotten. And the next day, the teams were likely to be realigned.
I marvel at how well it worked.
No one expected or desired parental involvement. My Dad attended my high school football games. Mother could not bear to. He was also a great softball fan and attended many of my church league softball games after I was at high school age. But, he attended as a fan of the game and was never involved in organization or critique. I would not have welcomed anything more.
NJCon – not even a “bench sitter”.
I hate organized sports, especially those involving teams – and reading the thread I see my reasons confirmed.
My son, however, was good at track, and while he was on the team they have won city competitions, I believe, several times – I am not sure about it, since I was never interested much in that activity of his.
But I never discouraged it, either. I respect his choices. He’s a free individual, just as I am.
In Ottowa, the best team would come in last place. Gotta love Canada. I hope they don’t fight wars like that, when one comes their way.
Tatyana, I apologize. I mistook your comment for sarcasm.
No need, NJCon.
I might be mistaken, since I was never closely involved, but I think my son’s HS track team was free from intrigue, backstabbing and favoritism described in the post and comments.
First, parents tend not to be involved as much – not that I know of, and second – the coach was a professional, employed by the school, not one of the fathers, and he had school’ success as a stimulus for better pay and longer employment.
I know my son adored him, as did the whole team. They all turned to powder-mix-food, though – per coach’ instruction. And that I hold against him!
Track teams probably have the fewest problems in this regard because the measures of performance are so objective, and the events unidimensional. Ranking scalars is easy.
Ranking tensors is tough. Determing who is the fastest sprinter is a question of objective fact. Determining who is the best overall athlete fuels barroom brawls.
Moreover, in competitive sports (i.e., sports that involve competing directly against another person, rather than against a stopwatch or other objective standard) the rankings of who is best depend on who the opponent is (hence, e.g., the platoon system in baseball), further muddying the waters. So lots of opportunities for managerial discretion, and abuse thereof.
Tatyana, I too loathe organized sports! I think most organized sports for kids are (not sure how to put this..) anti-conservative/anti-freedom/anti-individual. I think your statement “He’s a free individual, just as I am.” is exactly why my son ran cross-country/track in H.S. If he won or lost a race it was on his own terms. And I hope LisaM finds the right sport for her son too.
AVI: Amen!
I’m reminded of this book, which has a lot to say about the watering-down of children’s sports. One point that made an impact on me was that playing competitive sports teaches you how to lose — a vital life skill if ever there was one.
Another important point is that, in playing competitive sports, you learn an awful lot about yourself and what you’re capable of. Are you a leader or a follower? Can you get along with others under trying circumstances? Do you rally others with your optimism, or do you drag others down with your pessimism? You also learn a lot about dealing with people under stress, and what works and what doesn’t.
Parents who try to remove competitive aspects are doing their children no favors at all. They’ll encounter these issues in the real world, with much higher stakes, and have no idea how to cope with them.
respectfully,
Daniel in Brookline
I am a strong supporter of cross country and track. One of my daughters ran both in high school, and it was very good for her. She learned discipline and learned that she could push harder than she imagined. And, she had fun. The cross country kids, especially, were a good bunch. Very supportive of each other, hard working and all around good folks. I think, and hope, one of my twin grand-children will run cross country. The other is a soccer nut, and is already experiencing the down-side of the club level politics. It could well spoil her genuine love of the game over time.
Still, organized and unorganized team sports have a lot to offer. I think Daniel in Brookline sums it up well.
Unfortunately, it is often the adult element, parents and some coaches, who create problems. Some kids will learn positive lessons from the examples, while, sadly, others will emulate them..
Sport was invented in Britain with a specific purpose to harden boy’s character and promote their socialization. Some say, it was invented in antiquity (Olympic games). Not really so: ancient Greeks invented athletics, not sport. There were no team sports in ancient Greece. May be, this was the reason of dysfunctionality and instability of ancient democracies.
May be, this was the reason of dysfunctionality and instability of ancient democracies.
nah… 🙂
i would say the overstepping of people who eventually run out of positive limited things to do, and rather than just sit still and happy, have to keep on going.
like a poor artist who overworks a piece that would have been really good IF they knew when to stop or when to let forces alone and manage themselves.
given all the philosophers like to split people into twos, i will give you a twofer.
in the domain of public service there are two kinds of people, those who actually do wish their fellow man the best and will suffer for that in a real way and make real judicious effort, and then there are those who have a need to feel power.
the latter group is sadistic as they cant feel power unless they use it, and by definition power is the ability to compel another against their will to comply (usually coupled with a inability to respond to the condition)
note that there is more than this kind of power, but to these people, other forms can not be distinguished from good luck, bribery.
Even worse, when it all works without their stewardships, and schemes, and works better, there is the opposite of power, irrelevancy.
At work when meeting such people on projects i tend to leave innocuous errors they can find. give these people a perfectly designed item, and they will change it just so they can claim it.
This reminds me a Russian painter who always painted a little white dog in the corner of every picture before showing it to his clients, all mighty bureaucrats. The only way they could criticise a work of art was to ask “What the hell the dog is doing here?” And he immediately erased the dog, leaving big bosses perfectly satisfied.