Parents parent/Coaches coach

Sometimes I get an idea just out of the blue and build a column from that. It can be a single word or phrase. Sometimes people suggest topics (always welcome). Sometimes I struggle to decide on a topic. After 35 years, that should be no surprise.

And then sometimes it falls in my lap. Such was the case this week. I was sitting in the stands at a game when it all came together. All I had to do was sit down at the keyboard and let it out.

Despite my best efforts, I do repeat myself. I’ve talked about movement and exercise many times. I don’t seem to be able to shut up about concussions and dealing with the heat. And I talk about being the parent to an athlete a lot. I’m back there this week.

I want to get to the point of this column right away—There are two purposes for youth sports: Movement education and developing active lifestyles.

We need to teach children how to move. How to run. How to throw. To develop athleticism. To learn the joy of moving their body. We need sports to make movement fun.

We know with certainty that active children become active adults. We know with certainty that an active lifestyle takes care of many of the chronic health problems that plague us. Obesity. Heart disease. Diabetes. And on.

Let me make this very, very clear—the purpose of youth sports is not to win championships. Let me repeat that.  The purpose of youth sports is not to win championships. It should always be to help children grow.

I find the thought of an undefeated season in youth sports disgusting. If it is a local league, then it means that most of the talent is on one team. It usually means that one or more teams in that league never wins.

If it is a travel league, then you’re not pursuing good enough competition.

Don’t get me wrong, keeping score is important.  Trying to win is necessary, not for the trophy but for what it should mean. It should mean that you work harder, are better prepared. Winning by a large margin helps no one.

The genesis of this column actually started last weekend, watching youth sports. I’ll be vague to protect the good folks in this story. And let me say that there are far more good folks in youth sports than bad.

Take Joey Winders for example. Still coaching youth sports after all these years. But, more profoundly, he can be found on Saturdays refereeing Parks & Rec basketball. Alongside his son. Could Joey find a better way to spend his Saturdays? Probably. That he chooses refereeing the most basic of sports speaks to his commitment.

Then a parent in the stand yells at him for a (correct) call that he makes. And then does it again. I’m sitting behind that parent and silently seething. They just don’t get it. I didn’t say anything. Until now.

Or the coach that plays their bench players the bare minimum required by the league. Or not at all. Or the coach that coaches a Saturday morning game of 8 year olds like they’re playing for the NBA championship.

Those people have so completely lost the “why” of youth sports as to be pitied. And vilified.

Folks, no one knows who will be the next Lebron James or Patrick Mahones at age 10. No one knows for sure that their kid will be a star. No one. No coach. No parent. No one.

Coach, your job is to promote movement and active lifestyle in everyone on your team. Every. Single. One. The end of the bench needs your coaching more than the most gifted. Your job is player development—not win championships

Parent, your job is to provide your child with opportunities for movement, to work with them at home, and to support them. Always.

Do you remember what it was like?

How good is your memory? Mine? Eh, it’s OK. I’m terrible with names but I can tell you what surgery you had on your shoulder 20 years ago. I can remember football scores from games that I played in 50 years ago but might forget milk at the grocery store unless I have a list.

I used to ask my kids what they had for lunch at school. More often than not, they couldn’t remember. Sure, as we get older, remembering things seems harder. So, it’s not just an old person thing.

I preach a lot in this space. It’s definitely my pulpit and I take the responsibility seriously. My target for a lot of sermons is the parent of young athletes. I try not to be self-righteous about it—goodness knows I made every mistake in the book.

But I think I learned from those mistakes and now I’m recycling some of those lessons on behalf of grandchildren. The runners. The soccer players. The lone basketball player. The one that will be a football player. And the tennis player.

One of the things that helped me along the way and still helps me now is that I remember what it was like to be 15. And 16. And 17.

I can tell you the play that MHS ran against my Loudon Redskins to win the football game 35-28 in 1970. I can tell you who ran that touchdown and what defense we were in. I can tell you the name of half of that team because my coach, Gary Dutton, had coached them in Junior High.

I can tell you what it felt like after that game. I can remember the fatigue as I walked off. I remember how disappointed I was to lose that game. I wanted to win it so much for Coach Dutton.

I remember the effort that it took to compete at that level. I can remember the smell of the locker room. I can hear the banter in practice. I can recall the taste of the sports drink that we got during practice (one small cup, half-way through practice).

I can remember walking on the field for a game. I remember the bus rides. I remember the taste of the ham and cheese sandwiches that were waiting for us when we returned from a road game. Theyff were so cold and so good.

Do you remember what it felt like? Do you remember the practices? Do you remember what it felt like to lose a game? Did you have a parent that would tell you what you did wrong as soon as you got home?

I didn’t have that. My mom was the president of my fan club, always in the stands with Sammy Alexander watching Ricky and I play alongside each other after years of being great friends.

My dad was disabled with heart problems. Back then, you were told to avoid stressful situations so he never got to see me play football beyond pee-wee’s. He would listen to the high school broadcasts though. And he would never ever criticize me for doing something that he was never able to do.

He had to drop out of school after the 6^th grade and go to work in a factory to support his family. Imagine that. Seems bizarre today. It IS bizarre today. He was just proud of me. My mom would tell me about coming home after games and finding him sitting by the radio crying—such was the level of pride he had.

My message today is pretty simple: Parents, try and remember what it was like when you were growing up. Try and remember what you WANTED to hear from your parents. And then go out and be that parent. They don’t need another coach.

Hope Never Dies

One of my all-time favorite movies is Shawshank Redemption. If you haven’t seen it, you should. It’s timeless—as good today as when it was released.

I’ll not get into the details, but near the end of the movie, Morgan Freeman’s character Red is reading a letter from his buddy Andy Dufresne, played by Tim Robbins. At the end of the letter is the take home message from the movie:  “Hope never dies.”

Hope never dies…I love that phrase.

When the days are the darkest, when the path is hardest, we hang on to the hope of better days, of easier paths. Hope sustains us. Hope keeps us going. Sometimes hope is all we have left.

If your team makes the playoffs, you soon realize that only one team finishes the season with a win. Maybe your season didn’t end up like you wanted it to. It’s OK.

I watched from a distance as probably the best volleyball team in MHS history lost in the state tournament. Were they disappointed? Sure. Can they look back on all they accomplished and realize that their body of work was incredible? I hope so.

I would definitely be considered “old school,” if for no other reason than the number of candles on my birthday cake. I remember a lot of cliches from back in the day. “2^nd place is 1^st loser.” Another one that had broad acceptance: “Winners win, losers lose.”

To me, phrases like those reduce sports to a totally irrelevant role. In other words, the life lessons that can be learned from sports participation are worth nothing with that mindset.

If you read my column often enough, you know that I do not agree with that at all. Sports participation is valuable, even essential. Life lessons are there to be learned regardless of the score of any game.

Let’s look at that for a moment. The opportunities to learn from playing a game or being on a team are everywhere. The opportunity to learn how to be a good teammate. How to be a leader. How to work toward a goal.

And what it takes to be successful. Is the scoreboard important? Sure it is. It gives our games structure and focus. The scoreboard gives us a goal to work toward. But is the scoreboard an appropriate measuring stick for our success? No, not at all.

I had a discussion with a grandchild recently. This one asked “do you think I will be a success when I’m an adult?” Of course! “Do you think I’ll own a Lamborghini?”

Oh my. Success has nothing to do with material goods. Are you happy? Are you in a good relationship? Is your day filled with opportunities to be of service to others? Does your life have meaning?

Those are the things that you should use to judge a successful life. Not how big your house is or what car you drive.

Same with sports. Are you learning those lessons? Are you enjoying the challenges that keeping score in a game provides you?

Our success comes from working hard and learning the value of hard work. It comes from being our best selves. If you work hard, prepare well, give it your all, and still come out on the short end of the scoreboard, you are still successful. You are still a winner, regardless of the score.

Hope never dies…unless you let it.