Fitting in

 

Everybody just wants to fit in.  This has been true forever (or at least as long as I’ve been alive, which, according to my grandchildren, is about the same thing) for people of all ages.

But I think it’s worse in junior high. Peer pressure and the pressure to “fit in” is immense. You see kids dressing alike, walking alike, hair is alike, talking alike.  Liking the same music. Having favorite things that are the same. And you’re not cool if you don’t.

Nobody wants to be “different,” unless they really, really want to be different. And then they look/dress/act drastically different just to be different.  Before I go any further, let me state for the record that this is OK.  More on that in a bit.

I remember when “bangs” and long hair became a thing. At least in my history, it goes back to the Beatles. They led the British invasion of pop stars arriving on our shores. Long hair and bell bottoms became the thing that everybody had to imitate.

I went from a flat-top to Beatle-bangs, with hair down to my eyes. Not “in” my eyes, mind you. Just down to them. The back was still short, sort of the opposite of the now forgotten (thank goodness) phase of business in the front, party in the back.

Our parents thought it was awful. As in the-end-of-the-earth-is-here awful. The Rolling Stones and The Who were going to ruin a whole generation.

And their parents thought that Elvis’s gyrations, which couldn’t be shown on television, were going to destroy that generation.

Would you believe that there was a period when some people thought that facemasks on football helmets were going to be the end of the game (although I must admit that advanced helmet technology has contributed to using the head as a weapon, which is a big part of the reason that we see so many head and neck injuries these days).

The simplest, plainest uniforms in football are probably those worn at Penn State. Two basic colors. No names on the jerseys. Their team motto is “Basic Blues. No Names. All Game.” Probably the epitome of fitting in. But I like it. Call me an old fogey.

I’m totally against the whole “look at me” approach to sports. Modifying a uniform with tape and bands on every body part. Over-the-top end zone celebrations. Screams and taunting and posturing after making routine plays.

In an all star game that I served in several years ago, a defensive back made a tackle 20 yards down the field and is then dragged another 10 yards before getting the ball carrier to the ground. The DB then jumped up and made the throat slash move like he had really done something. I can’t stand that stuff.

But here’s the thing—if you want to be better than the crowd, you simply must be different. You’ve got to work harder. You’ve got to show up earlier. You’ve got to WANT TO be different.

You’ve got to do the things that might not be cool, things others aren’t willing to do. It’s the pursuit of that difference that makes good become great.

I’m not talking about doing things that are illegal or that might harm your health. I’m talking about things like remaining coachable, especially when your friends don’t think it’s cool. It’s looking your coach in the eye and truly listening.

There isn’t a coach out there that wants anything out of you but your best, so give them the opportunity to coach you, even when your friends (or even your parents) might think your coach is an idiot. Be different. Be better.

Leaders are the ones that separate themselves from the crowd. Who are brave enough to be different, even if it means that they don’t fit in.

The world is changed by those that pursue their dreams with all that is in them, never giving a moment’s thought about what anyone else thinks about them.

Life the Life

 

We are about to get a new creature in our family. No, we’re not getting a dog. We’re about to have a high school graduate. Our oldest granddaughter is about to graduate from high school.

She has already made her college choice and is eager to get that journey started (as are most high school seniors). The next couple of weeks will be a rush of events with baccalaureate service, graduation, and all the events associated with all that.

The one that first made us grandparents has been a joy to watch. She’s smart (don’t take my word for it—check her test scores) and loves the outdoors. She’s tall and athletic, and could have played any sport she wanted to, but just loves to run, competing on her high school’s track and cross country teams.

I’m not sure she loves the competition so much. She just loves to run. If we’re on a vacation, she is likely to get up early and go for a run. I’ve never asked her what it is about running that she loves so much, but it does appear to be her happy place.

But isn’t that’s what it’s all about? If you love something, you’re going to chase it with all you have. Over the years, I’ve seen tons of athletes that might be best suited for one sport but the are passionate about another.

The 5’6” 150 pound linebacker. I’ve known several. They just want to play. And so they made themselves good at it. If I’m picking a team, that’s the kid I want. I don’t care how big he isn’t.

David Sweetland, Alcoa football’s offensive coordinator, played receiver at Maryville High in the 90’s and was spectacular. He also wasn’t very big and probably wasn’t that fast. But he was a player and could catch anything. And he was a difference-maker.

The 5’2” basketball player. Remember Mugsy Bogues? He could play! They list UT point guard Zakai Zeigler at 5’9”, but I’m not sure he is that tall. It doesn’t matter. The kid can play and makes everyone around him better.  

I’ve told the story for years about my son’s first sport. It was gymnastics. And he particularly seemed to enjoy the balance beam. And he loved going to Pat Dial’s gymnastics camps.

The only problem is, the balance beam is a girl’s event and, well, he sort of outgrew gymnastics. It didn’t take long to discover that his body was a bit more suited for football.

But I will always maintain that the balance and agility from those early gymnastics days served him well later on. He was an excellent skier and a heck of a basketball player before focusing on football where he went on to a career at Clemson.

My rule, and the rule that seems to have been adopted by my children, was that you had to play something. Honestly, it really didn’t matter what the sport was. And you had to put in the effort. If you worked hard at practice, you might work harder at home.

Here’s the best advice of the day: Give your child the latitude to chase their dreams—not your dreams. That happens enough that it has become a cliché. A parent wants the athletic success for their children that they never had when they were growing up.

I have seen parental judgement so clouded by ambition for their child that their child loses all interest in that sport. As a parent, you’ve got to be ready and willing to accept that.

That doesn’t mean that they can go home and jump on the computer every day—they still have to play something. I suppose I should be glad that cell phones weren’t popular when my kids were growing up. It would have been a constant battle.

Play a sport. Love a sport. Play the sport you love. Build an active lifestyle when you’re still but a child and it will serve you well for the rest of your life.