Not necessarily vicarious

OK. I get it. You want your children to have opportunities that you did not have. You want your children to accomplish things you did not or could not.  I appreciate that. I understand that may not be living vicariously (something that very involved parents get accused of all the time).


Let me back up a minute. The last two columns have preached a harsh sermon at parents that would yell at their children’s games. Yell at the referees. Yell at the coaches. Yell at their kids. Lots and lots of yelling.


In 34+ years of writing this column, I don’t think I’ve ever had more positive response to a column. Tons of emails, getting stopped by friends and strangers, text messages—you name it, I’ve heard about it. And they’ve all been positive.


Well except for the examples shared from all across the country about youth leagues being abandoned because they couldn’t get referees or coaches. That part is sad. And devastating to the physical and emotional development of our children.


As so often happens, instead of focusing on all those negative comments, I started looking for the positive comments. And they were everywhere. Positive far outweighed negative. Oh sure, there has still been the occasional parent yelling about a missed call and I really did hear this week a parent yell “BLOCK SOMEBODY” after their own child was tackled for a loss.


But I really liked most of what I was hearing. I watched a kicker run off the field being mobbed by his teammates after making a kick (he had missed one earlier). I heard people in the stands whooping it up after a big play. I heard parents and others clapping for a goal or a good play, regardless of which team they were on.


And I realized a few things. I realized that good parents want things to be better for their own children than maybe it was for them.  That is what being a good parent is. Good parents want their children to have positive experiences in sports, again, that maybe they didn’t get to have.


Wanting those positive experiences for your child isn’t necessarily living vicariously through them. There’s a basic difference…if you are doing it for you, then it is living vicariously. If you are doing it for your child, it is not. If their success somehow validates your unrealized potential, then it is living vicariously.


I learned some things through being a parent. I learned that I could not make success happen. I learned that nothing I did came with a guarantee. I learned that coaching from the sidelines never helped anything. I learned that yelling at the referees didn’t change a thing. I learned that being critical or second-guessing teachers or coaches never accomplished anything.


I certainly wanted my children to be successful in everything they did. Everything. I wanted to enable them to achieve their dreams. But here’s the difference—I wanted them to achieve THEIR dreams, not mine.


At the end of the day I found that it is most important to teach your children how to be happy, to enjoy life, and to be satisfied with what they have instead of always wanting more.


It’s OK to enable your kids to have experiences that help them achieve all that. It’s OK to insist that they be treated fairly and have opportunities. But if it is not kept in perspective, if it isn’t fun, if winning becomes more important than playing, then we have a problem.

You may not choose to be a role model but you are

I happen to believe that our true character is revealed by how we act when no one is watching. We need to also consider that even when we don’t know it, somebody might be watching you, copying you…wanting to grow up and be just like you.


A year ago, I told the story about taking one of my granddaughters to a soccer game. We stood at the playing of the National Anthem and I saw this granddaughter look at the team lined up and slowly copied them—her right hand over her heart and her left arm behind her back.


I snuck a photo which is an all-time favorite. The story was about role models. About how children are looking at others to learn how to behave. About how impressionable children are.


And how important it is for us to set a good example. That is a timeless message. Age doesn’t matter. Somebody, somewhere is looking at you, especially if you are an athlete.


Just last week, another story about the same granddaughter came out. It seems she is now copying the hairstyle of her favorite soccer player. Something about putting bands in her ponytail all the way to the end.


Thankfully, this young lady has embraced the fact that she is indeed a role model. She is now playing soccer in college but knows that her influence can reach all the way home.


We should all be prepared to assume the responsibility that comes with being someone’s role model. It may not be a role that we want and we might not be ready to accept it, but it often belongs to us anyway.


I’ve told the story here before about sitting on the balcony at a basketball game dropping popcorn on people below. A young mother turned to her son and said “don’t grow up to be like them.” I might have been 10 but I remember it to this day.


We are constantly role models for someone. Take smoking. Statistics tell us that if both parents smoke, there is a very high likelihood that their children will smoke too. Often while still teenagers. Is that what you want for your child?


And a sedentary lifestyle. We don’t inherit obesity. We get it from a sedentary lifestyle and bad eating habits. If the parents sit in front of the TV for several hours each day and dinner is fast food, that is what the kids learn to do.


When I was a teenager, I had this family friend that I thought was from the coolest family ever. They lived in a house north of Atlanta that had a wilderness playground for a back yard. The dad had model trains. Three brothers, something I always wanted. When I visited, we were always fishing and exploring.


Mark decided in high school that he wanted to be a wildlife biologist. I thought that was pretty cool. Any guesses what my first college major was?


I had another friend that I thought had great taste in music. Guess what I listened to? Yep, whatever he was listening to. Another friend was a great dresser. Guess who I copied?


My point is this…you should always be conscious that somebody might be looking at you to learn how to dress, talk, behave. And it might be your friends. Maybe it is your family. Teenagers, those little kids in your life are going to look at you as their role model much more than they do their parents.


Embrace that role. It will help you make better decisions. If you even think that someone is modeling their behavior after you, it makes it easier to do the right thing all the time. And you never know when little eyes are watching.

I'm not going anywhere

I will retire one day. Not today. Not soon. But one day. I will give up my spot on the sidelines of the Maryville High School football team. A spot and a privilege that I will always cherish. It will be someone else’s turn. Someone younger. Someone just as qualified. Someone who will hopefully love it as much as I do.


And when I do, I’m not sure I’ll ever go back. For sure, I could never walk the sidelines with the team and the coaches. Whomever takes my place doesn’t need that. Too many years and too many relationships—I wouldn’t do that to my replacement. The last thing they would need is them thinking that I’m looking over their shoulder, judging whatever they are doing. I won’t do that. They will do fine and I hope will do a better job than I ever did.


I won’t sit in the stands either. I just don’t think I could listen to people yell at the players and the coaches. There probably isn’t enough bond money for me to do that.


I remember when my son was playing football in college. It’s probably the only time I consistently sat in the stands and watched a game of any kind. I’ve always been a part of whatever game I attended.


All the parents sit in the same section at college games. Obviously, those deciding such things know better than to put families with the fans. It was also one of the coolest things about having a son playing college football—we made lots of friends with other parents.


One time, there was this family sitting on one side of us and one of the family members said something about one of the players. That player’s family happened to be sitting on the other side of us. Now, keep in mind, this sort of thing doesn’t happen often. Families understand things. 

Just when things between them started heating up, one of them got distracted and things went back to normal. Being in the middle of that mess told me pretty quickly that I didn’t want to sit in the stands very much, especially if I had a vested interest in the team on the field.


As for MHS football, for the rest of my life, this team and these coaches will be my family. So no, I won’t be able to sit in the stands and listen to people criticize them.


I just don’t get it. These are teenagers and these coaches want nothing but the best for these kids. I remember hearing someone yell from the stands to George Quarles “you need to pass more coach.” Really? You know more about calling the offense than GQ?


My least favorite is “BLOCK SOMEBODY!” Uh…I don’t think so. Block somebody on the other team, not just any somebody. That one hurts more as the parent of a lineman (and a former lineman myself) when it comes from the parents of a running back that just got tackled.

I wrote last week about yelling at referees and umpires. That column got a lot of comments on social media and a dozen or more emails in my box. Everyone had egregious examples of bad behavior by parents of young children. My son-in-law thought he might have to protect his 9 year old son from the other team’s parents in a soccer game last weekend.


It’s beyond ridiculous. I had several people send me articles about youth sports leagues having to close down all across the country because they can’t get officials.


If you are a parent, support your son or daughter. Be their parent, not their coach. You do not know more about what is going on than their coaches. If you disagree with the officials, understand that they know that they don’t get everything right, every time. If you think you can do better, great. They would love to have you.


But be kind. Be positive. At the end of the day, these kids aren’t going to be making their living playing sports. And maybe 3% of them will get college paid for by their athletic exploits. They are much more likely to get college paid for by their academic exploits. I heard a statistic once that said for every athletic scholarship, there are 1000 academic scholarships.

You are much more likely to get there by reading to your younger children, taking them to the museum and art gallery, and expecting academic excellence. Sure, sports are important, essential even, but you're not helping them in any phase of life by yelling at their coaches and referees or by coaching them from the sideline.

You want you child to be a great athlete?  Get out in the yard with them. Throw a ball with them. Run with them. Encourage active play.  Let them play everything. Hike, paddle, ski...do it all. You're building athleticism when you do that.

Let our children learn positive lessons from their sports. Don’t teach them what they don’t want be like with their own children.

The future of youth sports is in jeopardy

We have a national crisis. Our kids are at risk of having the opportunity to play sports. Why? Because of the physical and verbal abuse that the referees and umpires are receiving. Who is doing that? Parents.

A bit of a disclaimer. I was not the perfect parent of a young athlete. I disagreed with officials, maybe sometimes loudly. I got angry. But I never ever thought of hitting one. That’s not the case today. Game officials are regularly confronted and beaten, all across the country. Leagues everywhere are abandoning youth sports because of it.

I happen to believe that youth sports participation is an essential part of growing healthy adults. Youth sports are our best vehicle to learn teamwork, to learn how to be coachable, and to understand the pure joy of movement and athletic competition.

I’m the grandfather to six kids. All six play a sport of some kind. I would hate to think that we could live in a world where that wasn’t even an option to them. Last weekend, in attending the games of my grandchildren, I witnessed the genesis of a lot of this bad behavior—behavior that threatens the very existence of sports for kids. You think I’m exaggerating? Check it out. Look around the country. Leagues can’t find officials so they have to cease operations.

So here’s the scenario last weekend: I was sitting in the shade watching the end of a soccer game, waiting on the next field for my youngest grandson to play. What I saw was a young woman, obviously a mother, yelling at the referee, yelling at the players on both teams, eventually yelling at the opposing coach. Out of control.

I was sitting there calmly when I turned to my son and said “there’s my next column.” This was a game between two girls’ teams that were, oh, I would guess 5 and 6. I know this referee. He’s a good kid. A high school sophomore. There was nothing that he did that was unfair or inappropriate.

We then went to that youngest’s game with the same referee. No problems at all. No yelling parents. Coaches that were coaching. I have no idea who “won” that game. I couldn’t care less. My grandson was out there moving around, learning a little about the game, maybe learning a little about teamwork. Having fun.

So the next day, I went to another grandson’s flag football game. Soon enough, the parents from one team were yelling at the referees or coaching from the sidelines. As I sat down, I turned to my wife and said “I’m pretty sure I’m about to get more material for my column.”

Again, these were high school kids refereeing. Doing a great job. Talking calmly to the coaches and ignoring the parents, just like good referees everywhere. Near the end of the game, there was controversy about the score and the parents from the team that was behind were loud with their protests. These were the same parents that had been yelling the whole game.

But here’s the worst part—after the game, I heard three separate dads tell their sons “you really won the game, the referees just cheated you out of it.” Really? Like it matters? What kind of message are you sending to your kids?

Do you really think that coaching from the sidelines helps your child play better? Do you really think that winning a game at 10 is going to determine your child’s athletic career? There is no way that we know at 10 or 12 or even 14 whether a kid is going to be a sports star. And without a doubt, whether they win a youth sport game or not will have nothing to do with their ultimate athletic success.

Don’t get me wrong, I believe we need to keep score in our games. It gives them structure. But what if those games went away because we couldn’t find officials for those games?

Parents that coach constantly from the sidelines…are you trying to live vicariously through your children? Are you trying to get them to do things you couldn’t or wouldn’t accomplish? Do you really think that a college scholarship awaits your child if they succeed in youth sports?

Youth sports are all about movement and life skills that our children learn from participation. They don’t learn to be “winners” by winning a flag football game. They learn to be winners by learning the vast lessons that our games teach us. And from watching how their parents react to their games.

How about this—volunteer. Be a coach. Work in the concession stand. Better yet, be a referee. Your perspective will change. I guarantee it. And maybe you will understand that it is all about the participation and not about the game.

It's not about the bike

I made a new friend and rode my bicycle this past week. I know what you’re thinking--“Oh no, not another story about the bicycle.” Nope. Not this time. The bicycle is just the vehicle.


Here’s the story. This new friend was a good rider but unsure of his ability. He lives in a flat area so the hills around here intimidated him. He married a Tennessee girl but had only visited and had never brought a bike. Three years ago he had made a commitment that he was going to get fit. So he bought a bike. And started riding.


Barrell chested with a huge smile, he is quite fit. But he definitely isn’t one of the 130 pound bikers that can zoom uphill. He wasn’t too sure of his ability. It was part of my job to help him understand that he was totally capable of doing the rides that we had planned. I assured him that if he paced himself, recovered when he could, and refused to quit, he would be fine.


Did I mention that he was about to climb Butterfly Gap Road to Top of the World? Yeah. That. Never been up that road? It’s steep. And then toward the end, it gets even steeper. When it levels out and you think the climb is over, you get another steep section.


He made it with a smile on his face but that’s just where this story begins. You see, this fellow was from the middle east. From one of those countries where poverty is a way of life. Where women can’t get an education, hold a job, or drive a car. Where the law is whatever one man might decide it is and punishment can be swift and deadly. Where oppression is constant and children might be used as human bombs. That world.


While he was still a small child, his family decided to try and escape all that. He was just a child but he remembers it well. Days of walking, hiding, afraid to even beg for food because of the fear of getting caught. Hiding in a hole for 8 straight hours. He couldn’t whimper or cry lest he reveal his family’s position. A hole in the desert where he could have died.


Crossing into a country that didn’t want him. More walking but now they could beg for food. A family with small children sleeping anywhere they could find. For days on end. Threatened repeatedly by locals that hated him because of where he was from.  


Days turned into weeks and at every border crossing, the family was scrutinized, chastised.  Still having to beg for food and with everything they owned already bartered away for money to pay the bribes that those border crossings required, they were always hungry. And dirty. With but a few possessions they carried on their backs.


Finally, they got far enough to gain a certain amount of acceptance. A country that gave them just a whisper of a chance. Dad found work. They lived in a tent for a while. They were able to eat regularly.


But they had this dream. A dream of coming to America. The Land of Opportunity. Where freedom and equality ruled the land. Where you didn’t get beaten, maimed, or killed because of your religious beliefs.


So they lived a life of frugality that you and I would consider unfathomable. And they got enough money to come to America. They got jobs, found a place to live. Were able to go to school. Quietly built a life.


The rest of the story is still being written but I can tell you that that boy hiding in the bushes as his family escaped sheer hell is now a successful businessman with a lovely wife and two children. Manifesting that American dream. As far as I’m concerned, climbing Butterfly Gap on a bicycle is nothing.

Coach Dutton

I recently had the opportunity to reconnect with some old high school football teammates. And when I say old, I mean it. This was the 50^th reunion of the 1969 state champion Loudon Redskins football team. We were invited back to be a part of the induction of the 1^st Loudon High Sports Hall of Fame.

The game was the season opener against hated rival Lenoir City (I still don’t like the orange and black of Halloween). The game was on Thursday and my game was on Friday so I had the chance to go.


We were asked to arrive early and have the pre-game meal with the current team. The ’69 bunch sat and reminisced while the players wondered how this bunch of old guys could ever have played football. We joined them as Coach Harig delivered his pre-game speech, calling on his team to stand on the shoulders of those players that had gone before.


I really enjoyed catching up with old teammates like Dickie Blankenship, Wayne Poole, Ronnie Watkins, Fred Chaney, Scotty Akins, Yancy Hampton, Hank Evans. I’ve stayed in touch a bit with others, like Gordo Watson, J.L. Millsaps, and Lonnie Hawkins. I was overjoyed to get to spend time with Mike Bivens. I had not seen him in 25 years.


“Big Mike” and I spent a lot of years together. He and I went all through school together and were always among the better students, were good kids, and went to American Legion Boys’ State together. We even bagged groceries at the White Store together for a while. And when it came to football, we were side by side. He was the tackle and I was the guard on the right side. He was the defensive tackle and I was the linebacker behind him. Always together.


As his nickname implied, he was the biggest of all of us. I think he was class president all four of our high school years. He was our protector, our brother, our teammate. Smarter than most, gentler than all, I honestly recall only once seeing him angry. He made it a very special night for me.


It was also an opportunity to spend some quality time with one of our coaches, Dr. Gary Dutton.  Coach Dutton and I have crossed paths numerous times through the years but our conversations were always brief.


You may have heard my story about how legendary Loudon football Coach Bert “Chig” Ratledge changed my life’s direction forever when I overhead him tell someone “he can be a good one if he works at it.” He was talking about me, this underachieving high school sophomore with zero self-confidence. Coach Dutton was just as important an influence on me in those oh-so-important teenage years.


My senior season was 1970, the year that Maryville High won the high school state football championship. In my many years in Maryville, I’ve come to know a lot of those Maryville players. Tommy Beaver. John and Joe Emert. Buzz Thomas. Jeff Mills.


When we played them, I knew a lot of Maryville’s seniors by name. Coach Dutton, who played at Maryville College, had coached those players as 9^th graders at Maryville Junior High before returning to his alma mater to begin a long and storied career in coaching and academics. He made sure we knew them as individuals.


I was trash talking from the opening kickoff (yeah…I know…hard to believe), surprising the Maryville players by calling them by their names. We knew that team well. Jim Allison, all-state tackle that went to UT. Troy Bowman, a bruising fullback as big as our linemen.


Oh did we want to win that game for Coach Dutton. Those were his boys once but we were his team now. It was a great game. We led most of the game, up 21-7 at one time. It was tied 28-28 late in the game when Maryville scored the winning touchdown.


As I walked off the field, totally exhausted and broken hearted, I went up to Coach Dutton and said “I’m sorry Coach.” He replied “it’s OK Joe—you gave it everything you could.” And that’s something that has stuck with me my entire life--that there is honor in losing if you give it everything you’ve got.


We can never be successful at everything that we do. We will inevitably fail at something. But it’s what you do when you get knocked down that matters most—that is what determines who you really are.

Dealing with the heat

I’ve written this column before. Several times. I’m probably going to use some of the same language in here. I avoided going back to read previous columns on this topic so I wouldn’t be influenced by those.


Folks, it’s hot out there. Our athletic trainers have had to work extra hard this week to keep our young athletes safe and healthy. TSSAA has a list of guidelines that we are to follow when the Heat Index (a combination of air temperature and humidity) reaches certain levels.


I can tell you that our standards are even more stringent than those of TSSAA and most of our efforts this time of year are directed at dealing with the heat. Frequent breaks. Water available throughout practice. Acclimatization periods.


We have a really dynamic student trainer program in place at the high schools here. Those students have all participated in a week long camp in the summer and are a valuable asset to our athletic teams. They often become the eyes and ears of our Athletic Trainers.


They are taught what to watch for and are constantly observing our athletes to see if they are struggling with the heat. Red face. Labored breathing. Excessive sweating. Struggling physically. That’s when we want to get them, pull them out of practice, and get them cooled off.


If it gets to the point where the athlete is stumbling around, seems confused, or seems “out of it,” we develop a sense of urgency to get them cooled off. At each of our high schools we have a tub ready, filled with ice and water, to put an overheated athlete in.


It’s called “cold water immersion” and it is absolutely the best way to deal quickly and effectively with heat related problems. It’s cheap, it’s easy, and it’s important.


If someone stops sweating or becomes lethargic or listless, we have a medical emergency on our hands. Cold water immersion as quickly as possible and call an ambulance. The body is cooking itself and systems are shutting down to try to save themselves.


The key is prevention and prevention starts with hydration. Plenty of fluids, using both water and sports drinks is essential. It can’t be all water. You need the electrolytes that you get from sports drinks. And it is important to not just drink when you are thirsty or when you are practicing—it is important to be fully hydrated all the time. That means you drink all day.


If you are participating in a hot weather sport (or other activity), you should be drinking enough to where you have to pee regularly. And the color of your urine is important. It should be clear and light yellow. If it is bright yellow, you are not hydrated enough. Cloudy and you’re already in trouble.


All this is important away from sports too. I’m reminded of this on hot Saturday afternoons when I’m trying to do way too many chores in the hot sun. I’ve already rode my bike for quite a few miles that morning so I’m probably already a bit dehydrated.


The bike can be deceptive. You are moving so there is always a breeze so you really don’t feel the heat too much, but that also means that sweat is evaporating more quickly, dehydrating you more quickly.


Since my work hours during football season stretch from dawn to dusk, I’ve got a lot of catching up to do on Saturday afternoon and no choice but to do it during the hottest part of the day. I try to do what I insist that others do—drink lots of fluids and take regular breaks, but I still find myself behind on the hydration side. And once you get behind, it’s hard to catch up.