Rose Colored Glasses

Why play sports?

Indeed, why play sports? With all the injuries, the time involved, the cultural toxicity that seems to be present in some places? Is it worth it?

I’ve been accused of looking at things through rose-colored glasses.  For those too young to understand that metaphor, it basically means that maybe I see only the positive things when I look at them.

OK.  Maybe that’s true.  I’m sure I do like to look at the better side of things, at the better side of people. That rose-colored glasses thing--maybe you might think that I’m oblivious to the negative side of situations but I don’t think that is the case at all. I just choose to look on the bright side, to try and find the good in everyone, to find the positive in every situation.

Yet, I know there is a darkness out there. I know that the gymnastics coach in Michigan did some really bad things to young female gymnasts. He’s in jail for that. It does seem like that soccer coach in Franklin did some really bad things.

I know that those things are out there. I listened to Bobby Knight yell and cuss at whomever was in the room. Players, referees, the media. Everybody. Nobody was spared. I saw him throw a chair when he disagreed with a call on the basketball floor. He may have had some success but he wasn’t a nice person.

I remember an AAU coach that fancied himself a Bobby Knight-type coach, even wearing that red button-up cardigan. I remember he yelled at his 12 year old players, my 12 year old players, every referee he encountered. Even a few parents in the stands. Such a bad example.

I wrote about a flag football coach that laughed in the face of my grandson when he asked if he might be allowed to run the football just one time in their last game. His coach the year before (Matt Miller, for the record) had made sure that everyone got to carry the football from time to time.

I remember one local high school coach that would scream and cuss at his players after every game, win or lose. Every game. The parents of the players would wait patiently in the gym, knowing what their sons were being subjected to. It hurt.

I know there are coaches out there that believe in winning at all costs. That’s just wrong. It’s not why we play sports. I know there are coaches out there that play only their best players—leaving all others to languish on the bench. For young kids, that is irresponsible.

I know that injuries occur.  My son’s football career was ended in a rather brutal injury on the field at Florida State. I saw the heartbreak when a local college soccer player suffered back to back ACL injuries, both requiring surgery.

And yet, the triumph from injury can be the best possible lesson. Through adversity, we gain strength.  By way of the toughest situations, we learn just what we are capable of.

Life does that to us sometimes, but does so uncontrollably. Sports gives us that but in a controlled, monitored environment. Sports allows us to test ourselves, to prove what we are worth, where the worst case scenario is maybe you lose a game or don’t get to play.

Sports are not life but they can be life lessons.