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.

Walking Amongst The Trees

I was in a funk early this week. I had no right to be down—I had just returned from a wonderful beach vacation. I’m healthy. I’m happy. So, what was wrong with me?!?

I have no idea but it was real. I didn’t even want to go on my weekly Tuesday afternoon bike ride. My  mountain bike buddy was in Utah and another was in Charleston but their absence was just an excuse.  I didn’t want to ride.

Actually, I didn’t want to do much of anything.  Honestly, work didn’t interest me. I had mowed the day before so I didn’t have that to do—something that I find restorative.

But a friend I talked to put it best: Go ride. So I did. My mountain bike was in the truck and I had brought clothes for it so I was out of excuses.

I headed for the mountains even though my heart still wasn’t in it. And you know what? It worked. Two hours in the mountains on my mountain bike, alone, with hardly a soul on the trails, rejuvenated me, restored me.

After I got back in cell range, I called my wife and admitted my funk and then told her how miraculously the mountains had cured me. And I’ve been fine ever since.

Later that night, I read a couple of articles in Outside magazine about the value of green spaces. One article judged cities by the amount of green space available. Blount County wasn’t on the list but it seemed focused on big cities. I bet that if smaller regions were eligible, our beloved county would have made it.

After all, about a third of the county is in the Great Smoky Mountains National Park. And if you ever fly over it, you see mostly green. Even in the cities.

A couple of weeks ago, I wrote about our Greenbelt, about how valuable an asset it was to all of us. Free. Easy. Convenient. I think I called it an “oasis” in our cities.

The second magazine article talked about the health benefits of green spaces. It addressed the value of walking amongst the trees.

We know the benefits of walking and regular exercise. Goodness knows I’ve preached that sermon in this space what seems like a million times. And it makes common sense to know that we are healthier and happier if we get outdoors from time to time.

It’s also not too farfetched to understand that our mental health benefits from walking in green spaces. Maybe the fresh air and blue skies. Maybe a bubbling brook. Birds chirping. No electronic devices.

But this article talked about the physical health benefits from walking among the trees. And it quantified it!  It quoted a ton of research that concluded that our physical health is better from a walk in the park or in the forest for 120 minutes a week.

Two hours! Research clearly tells us that you will live longer. That Alzheimer’s patients live healthier for those 120 minutes a week. A lot of medical ailments are better because of it.

Well goodness gracious, we can all do that! We live in the best place in the country to do that, with miles of trails in the Smokies and a Greenbelt system that is the envy of communities everywhere.

All we’ve got to do is take advantage of what literally sits outside our door.

Return to Football

Football season is here.  Teams are practicing. Coaches are planning. Athletic trainers are working hard to keep athletes on the field. 

We’ve not yet experienced the blistering heat that August is known for but it’s early yet. We still need to stay hydrated and be smart when it’s hot.

That means hats, sunscreen, and frequent breaks. The main ingredient when you overheat is still the same—find a way to cool off. The best method is cold water immersion. That’s why you see big tubs and wading pools at high school football practices around here.

A cooler of ice is never far away and if an athlete appears to be having trouble dealing with the heat, in the tub they go. You should do the same.

I was in Moab several years ago and one of my biking buddies became seriously overheated. We got him into the bathtub and started tossing in bags of ice. It didn’t take long for him to recover.

Athletic trainers will often use an ice bath as a method of recovery. You would be surprised how fresh you feel the day after a hard workout if you have ended that practice with an ice bath. In recent years, you may have seen your favorite high school team gathered around, taking turns in the cold tubs.

Most don’t really like it but they quickly find out how much better it makes them feel, especially the next day. I first discovered this technique years ago while working with the US Olympic swimming team.

A lot of people refuse to allow their children to play football and part of me gets that. My wife has serious reservations about any of our grandsons playing football. I now have a knee replacement most likely to years of playing football and my son’s college career was ended by a serious injury.

But I truly believe that football is the best sport out there to teach teamwork and life lessons. To me, it is the ultimate team sport. If you don’t do your job on the football field—the team fails.

If you don’t make the block, your running back gets clobbered. If the quarterback throws a perfect pass, it means nothing if you drop the ball. If you don’t complete your defensive assignment, the other team scores. It takes all eleven, working together to be successful.

I’m often asked what makes the high school teams at Maryville and Alcoa so successful. In a nutshell (in my opinion), it is good players, good coaches, and teamwork.

Teenagers have few opportunities to truly prove themselves. Determination and persistence are most readily rewarded on our playing fields. That’s probably why I’m still such a fan of the game. I learned those things in spades on the football field.

Never the biggest, fastest, or most athletic, I made do with an extra helping of determination and persistence. Those same traits have served me well in over 43 years as a physical therapist. Those were lessons learned and repeatedly reinforced on the football field.

Is it a dangerous game? I wouldn’t call it dangerous. Players do get hurt. But there can be a good side to dealing with injuries. Injuries led me to a career that I truly love. Dealing with adversity gives us a whole new set of lessons.

We take risks every day. We drive on Alcoa Highway. We swim in the lake. We cross the Dragon. We fly in airplanes. We choose our risks and I happen to believe that for some, playing football is worth the risk.

And I know that both my son and I would do it again.

My Why

It really hasn’t been very long since I wrote about finding your Why.  Definitely not long enough but sometimes there is a topic that I just can’t get out of my head.

This is one of those times.  Oh, maybe it is inspiration and maybe it’s laziness although I’m rarely accused of the latter, but I’m going to talk about it again.

I pulled that old column out in an attempt to not repeat myself but I know that’s going to be hard. In it, I talked about my role as a teacher, a preacher, and a cheerleader. I talked about enjoying life and being positive.

I used that last bit at Camp Blackberry last week. If I started feeling negative vibes from one of the grandkids, I encouraged them to counter those negative vibes with positive vibes. It worked. Sometimes.

Who am I? I am a physical therapist, an athletic trainer, a husband/father/grandfather. I’m a biker and a farmer. But that still doesn’t tell you why I’m here. And after rereading that other column on this topic, I realized that those things are more who I am. My Why is more basic than that.

Now this is about to turn sappy so if you don’t want that from me today, just turn the page.

I’ve always thought that part of who I am is defined by my role as a physical therapist/athletic trainer. But I’ll retire one day, either by my choice or not, and I worry about whether or not that part of me will die. I don’t want to lose that part of me. It’s important to me.

Who I am is so wrapped up in all that. I have great fear that I will lose my identity when that day comes. And it will come. Sooner or later.

I love what I do. I’ll not say that I’m a good physical therapist—I’ll leave that up for someone else to decide. But I am a compassionate physical therapist and when you are my patient, you get someone who truly cares about you, who is truly interested in your best health.

But is that who I am? No, I think that just defines me, maybe defines my role in the workforce. It’s how I serve others. It’s how I’ve served this community for over 40 years.

So let’s get back to my Why.

I believe we are here to love each other and we do that by serving one another. In whatever manner, with whatever skillset that we have.

I believe that we are here to change the world.  That world may be inside your four walls but it may be the universe. I grew up with few having high expectations for me. That’s why I now encourage kids to aim for the moon.

I believe that everything we do should be based on love for each other.

If you’ve made it this far, you may think that I’m about to announce my retirement. Not. Gonna. Happen. Not yet, anyway.

I’m still at work, seeing patients at Total Rehabilitation-Cherokee. You won’t find me on the sidelines of MHS football anymore but that just means that my work week is more sane.

My Why will never change, but eventually, my venue will. And that’s OK too.

Camp Blackberry 2021

It’s that time of year again. Time for Camp Blackberry! We missed it last year over Covid concerns. This year is an abbreviated version for a variety of reasons.

What is Camp Blackberry, you ask? It’s a week in the summer when we have our grandchildren. We hike, swim, bike, do crafts, eat, sleep, and play. We take excursions like the Knoxville Zoo (thank you Mr. Phil) and the Chattanooga Aquarium.

It’s called Camp Blackberry because, well, our name is Black and we raise blackberries so it just seemed logical. We have a camp t-shirt and a logo. We have seven grandchildren but only six can attend. We’re not quite ready for the 18 month old.

We got the idea from Dr. Bob and Sue Ramger, who ran Camp Ramger for many years. I’ve heard from their now grown grandchildren about the memories that were built.

This is the 8^th rendition of CB and it’s a little different. We’ve been at Fall Creek Falls State Park, something we planned to do last year. With vacations limited and our family beach trip cancelled, we wanted to get away for a few days.

It’s a wonderful time and we look forward to it each summer. We are already planning for next year. But where I want to go today is about the role of the grandparent.

I didn’t know but one of my grandparents. My maternal grandmother is the only one that I knew and she died when I was seven. Despite that, I have indelible memories of this proud, statuesque woman. My own children knew all four of their grandparents but not for long enough. Grandparents are important. Not essential, but important.

Grandparents are the ones that get to be concerned only about your happiness. Parents don’t really get to do that. Parents have to worry about grades and performance and behavior and all those sorts of things.

Parents have to worry about getting to practice on time and the character of friends. Parents have to make sure that you are doing your chores, getting what you need to eat, and getting enough sleep. Most of the time, grandparents just get to do the easy stuff, the fun stuff.

I will quickly admit that when I attend the games that my grandchildren play, I’m more interested in it being a positive experience for them. I don’t worry about anything else but that. Are they happy? Are they having fun?

I don’t remember either of those being a high priority when my own kids played sports. I was more interested in hustle and performance. When GK6 was playing t-ball and was told to run for home from third base, I loved that he turned toward the dugout and began looking for his parents (I assume to go home). His parents may not have been as amused by that as I was.

And the officiating….oh my, the officiating. It’s got a lot better since my own kids played. A LOT better. As a grandparent, I worry far less that we just saw a foul or a hand ball. I don’t think twice if someone is offsides or in the lane.

I get that liberty because I have the perspective of old age and thousands of hours of experience. I’m given great latitude to simply enjoy the games because I know that in the big picture, whether one of them wins a championship at age 9 or not will have absolutely no bearing on their ultimate athletic success.

I’m not interested in their team going undefeated or winning the league championship. I’m more interested in knowing that they’re moving, getting better, learning the game. And being happy. As a grandparent, THAT gets to be my first priority.