All posts tagged parenting

Get Off the Phone, Soccer Parents

By | March 10, 2011 | Kids' Sports, Soccer | 5 Comments

The oldest boy is playing soccer. The kind of soccer where they actually have practices and games and as a parent you have to go.

He’s so excited he can’t see straight.

He’s also not very good at it. That’s fine. The boy isn’t all that athletic. Maybe he’ll grow into it. Maybe he won’t. But he’s having fun, and he thinks he’s good and loves it. To me, that’s what it’s all about at this stage in the game.

I will freely admit I had my cell phone out, texting a girlfriend while they were getting organized at the beginning of practice. I had a book, I had my great big old picnic-style blanket spread out, purse half dumped and was putzing around doing this and that. But as practice got going, I set down my phone and sat to watch the shenanigans.

Eight-year-old boys who don’t have a clue how to play soccer trying to practice playing soccer is sort of a hoot.  They’re uncoordinated, they don’t pay attention and I just find there to be something joyous and hilarious about them. They’re playing a game in its least competitive form, and it’s just fun.

So all this parental musing about the nature of sport aside, I notice a kid shoving another kid out on the field. Being a completely judgmental parent, I look around to see whose jerkwad kid this is.

And that’s when I noticed.

Everyone is on their phone except me.

Texting, surfing, talking. They’re doing anything except watching the field. So I sit and observe the parents. Thumbs are flying and smiles spread over their faces as they continue to communicate with their digital world that they’ve brought with them to the soccer field.

They are missing it. They are missing the sucky dribbling and passing. They are missing the boys’ total inability to weave in and out of cones. They are missing the corner shot that knocked a kid down.

They are missing their boys being 8 years old and trying to learn a sport. This moment won’t come back. As a matter of fact, it’s over.

I’m not a perfect parent. I text more than I should and hell if my phone would surf the web I’d be snagging content from it as well. But if I believe sports are important enough for my child to play, then they ought to be important enough for me to pay attention to while they learn.

Get off the phone. Jerks.

Back In MY Day, We Learned Sports in School

By | November 9, 2010 | Kids' Sports | 6 Comments

Yes that’s right. Sports, in school. While I am old enough to be able to cheekily quip “I remember when they played MUSIC VIDEOS on MTV”, it never really occurred to me that I would ever be old enough to say I could remember when they used to teach sports in school.

I admit, I grew up in the land of Hoosiers. If you didn’t have a basketball in your hand by the time you walked, they might send you for an evaluation. But, I remember distinctly from first grade on, that each six week-period in physical education was devoted to one sport. Basketball, baseball, soccer, tennis….each six weeks we learned the fundamentals of a basic sport and the last two weeks of that time frame we actually played games.

Competitively.

I learned this weekend at a birthday party that this isn’t the case anymore. My son was involved in a game of kickball. At the age of eight I was a kickball ninja. My mom actually got a call from school regarding whether or not it was appropriate how vigorously I played kickball in a dress.  My cheery 8-year-old walked up to the plate, grinned at me in the stands and said “I don’t know what we are doing!” – at which point all the other parents stared at me.

I’ve had him in a couple of organized little guy-level sports. Nothing that competitive, nothing that hardcore, because he’s little.  I might’ve been a little more aggressive in getting him into something if it had occurred to me that he wasn’t learning anything at all in school. I guess that those parent-teacher conferences I have been going to haven’t actually covered this so I am remiss in not asking.

I muttered something about “Why didn’t they he learn this in school?” and was informed by the other parents that our county doesn’t teach competitive sports in elementary school.

Uh, what?

I suppose this is part of the society that gives “participation” ribbons and has cap and gown ceremonies for kindergartners like it’s some sort of accomplishment.  But it’s not.

Here are a few words from an old ball kicker about sports and kids:

Kids have to learn to lose. It helps them learn how to win. Kids have to work hard and be achy and sore. It teaches them that anything worth accomplishing isn’t easy. Sports and competition can hone character and determination. They can teach us drive and desire. No one gets a “participation ribbon” in my world. You either won or you did not. If my kids get one, I tell them that those are for kids whose parents have no expectations of them.

Kids have to learn that it’s okay to lose. Nothing is handed to us. Competition pushes us to improve ourselves. Sometimes we fail, but sometimes we succeed in ways that we never even thought of.

I realize now that I’ve failed the boy. I fell into that trap of thinking that the school was covering things it covered when I was a kid. So while I am perusing the local parks departments to see when team signs ups are starting (basketball – January) I remind myself that he’s only 8. He’s not a Manning.

But no one in THIS house is going to third grade without knowing how to play kickball.

If Everyone Wins, What Do We Lose?

By | September 20, 2010 | Kids' Sports, Soccer | 6 Comments

My son Oliver decided to try soccer this season, and he loves it. He’s also pretty good. Being fast and motivated serves him well, not to mention having a basic grasp of the game.

There are more rules for parents than for the kids, though. There is no yelling of your kid’s name or any “instructions.” (In our case “Go brown!” is about all I can say.) No keeping score. No winners. No losers.

That would be easier if Oliver were not a bit of a fiend when it comes to numbers and statistics. I once wanted to be the statistician for the Boston Bruins so the apple has not fallen far from the tree. It’s how his brain works, and he’s proud of his accomplishments.

Knowing this was starting to be an issue, I talked to Oliver over the last few days about being a good sport and having fun at soccer. He agreed with me that if he had fun and tried his best, he won. He agreed. After today’s game I asked him if he learned anything. “I learned not to keep score,” he answered, but his face looked like he’d been gut-punched. He said exactly the right thing. I know he’s only 5 but it still felt wrong.

Rewind to a couple of weeks ago. I was at work, chatting with one of the faculty. We were bemoaning the inability of our students to do as they are told, to follow the simplest of instructions, and to do anything that does not involve them being handed everything they need on a silver platter. I asked him how he thought we got here, or why these kids are the way they are. He circled a little bit until I asked him how we keep our own kids from ending up this way. He didn’t have to think very hard before saying the whole “everyone gets a trophy” mentality wasn’t helping.

That conversation reminded me something from the Women and Sports panel at BlogHer. This very thing was discussed and though I didn’t speak up, I sided squarely with those who argued against “everyone gets a trophy.” GoonSquadSarah put it best.

Getting back to my conversation with the faculty member, are we preparing our students for the real world, the very competitive real world, if we only spoon feed them? Do we give them the chance to shine if they never have to figure out how to get from point A to point B on their own, without a detailed map? Would it be any different if they had more opportunities  to experience the thrill of victory and the agony of defeat?

I don’t have any good answers but I can tell you how I’m feeling a couple of weeks in to the soccer season. I don’t want to go anymore. He’s having fun and loving it, so I’ll keep going, but I’m trying to pay less and less attention to what is happening on the pitch. It’s better for everyone.

ClumberKim also posted this on her own blog. It was edited slightly before it landed over here.

Why baby why?

By | May 23, 2010 | Basketball | 4 Comments

Remember this?

Ok, I’m kidding. You don’t have to remember something you see every other day. That’s true. But did you see it as it happened? Probably not. It was 1989. It was a first round series. The Cavs were heavily favored. This was when Jordan was Michael Jordan and not Jordan or Mike or AIR or “the big fat jerk that eliminated a 12-year old Roger’s basketball team from the playoffs.”

But that’s what I thought of him. I was late to basketball fandom as my dad didn’t watch. 1989 was the first year I regularly watched basketball. Yes, it wasn’t the best timing ever. I wasn’t heartbroken though. I was upset, but I was 12. My dad probably told me, “We’ll get them next year,” and I happily believed him and went outside to play and wait on next year.

Well, there have been a lot of “next years” since 1989 and so far, we’ve haven’t got ‘em yet.

Last year, we didn’t get ‘em despite the 66 regular season wins. We fell to the Magic in the Eastern Conference Finals. It hurt. My throat that is, from dropping f-bombs all series long like the Allies over Dresden. It was tough, but somehow understandable. Despite their record, the Cavs were flawed and we all knew it. They played hard, but ultimately they matched up poorly with the Magic and lost the series in 6 games.

You probably remember we didn’t get ‘em this year either. This year’s ‘em being the Boston Celtics. Last week my team messed the bed and casually exited the NBA playoffs in the second round. It was . . . disappointing, to say the least.

But despite all the disappointment, this year was supposed to be different. We were supposed to be good, deep, diverse. We were supposed to be resilient and together – led by the best player on the planet. But none of that mattered. They played poorly in all but one game and late in the series it seemed like they quit. Heck, Wikipedia calls it The Forfeit.

And that was the worst of it. They quit; they stopped trying. And all I could think about was how it could be that I cared more than they did. I have no financial interest in the series. I wouldn’t be publicly embarrassed by playing poorly and without passion. I would just be upset for a few days and that’s it. But apparently, that was more than the Cavs could muster.

We watched the game at a bar and then had to go to my parents’ to pick up our 2-month old son. I saw our son and said, “Baby – don’t like sports. It’s nothing but misery.” And he said, “Dad, you’re drunk.” That was true, but irrelevant. Grandpa chimed in with, “It’s ok to watch sports, just remember it’s only a game.” Sure pops, only a game.

A couple of days later, I was over the loss, but still wondering if sports were worth the time and emotional investment. Then I got home and looked in on my baby boy and it was like he was trying to tell me something.

Everything's gonna be all right.

Everything's gonna be all right.

An Open Letter to Male Sports Stars

By | April 20, 2010 | Unsportmanlike Conduct | 1 Comment

Below is a fabulous post that was originally seen on our friend Firemom’s blog Stop, Drop and Blog.

Dear Male Sports Stars,

I write to you as the mother of two little boys who adore what they know about sports. True, at two and four, their understandings of all things sports is rather limited. BigBrother knows that you kick a soccer ball in a net, sometimes people knock you down and that t-ball is awesome. LittleBrother knows that football in the side yard is the perfect way to end a day. They know that winning isn’t everything and the point of a game is to have fun and learn new things. They ask to watch football on TV and, season permitting, we oblige.

sports-kidBut I worry.

Someday they’re going to realize that the guys they see on television playing their favorite games in front of huge crowds were Everyday Dudes like they are. They will put two and two together that you can grow up in Small Town America, work really hard at something you have a passion for and succeed. They’re going to look up to you. I’d love to teach my boys that they can succeed in whatever they desire. Whether their future passion is for sports, photography, fire fighting, medicine, chess, art, music, spelunking or what have you, I want them to know that they can achieve it, that dreams are attainable.

Thankfully, they have positive male role models. Their Dad is a shining example of wanting something and working hard to achieve it. Their grandfathers and great-grandfathers are all amazing, strong men. But I know that some boys look up to male sports stars. The shock-and-awe factor of scoring a touchdown under the lights while millions of people cheer for you is tantalizing to a young boy.

So, could you all stop acting like complete nitwits?

Cases in point: a four game suspension for (repeated) substance abuse (plus, a trade because he’s a trouble-maker);  continuous bad decisions involving women, night clubs and alcohol; and even drunken run ins with the police. And those are just examples from my first and only football team allegiance. Let’s not forget Tiger, OJ Simpson (and that’s just talking about his most recent stunt) and, sadly, countless others. As of late, it’s on the news every day. So-and-so did such-and-such. In fact, Male Sports Stars, you’re starting to make the days of being a female celebrity parading around without underwear seem tame.

I’m not saying you have to be angelic. You don’t need to sit in your houses and be Saints, day in and day out. (Unless you play for the Saints. Then you automatically win.) What I am asking, however, is that you remember being a child. For a moment, ignore your fame and your status and your vehicles and your homes and the adoring fans and remember being a child. Remember looking up to That One Sports Star and thinking, “Gee, that’d be swell.” Remember working your butt off to get where you are today. Remember people telling you that you weren’t going to make it. Remember the struggles. Remember succeeding because you worked really, really hard. Don’t throw it all down the drain. If not for yourself, because you deserve it, do it because my kids are watching.

Sure, I could teach them that even sports stars fall and fail and make human mistakes. However, when the stories coming out of the sporting world are more negative than positive, I’m not sure how to teach them the difference between making a mistake and whatever it is that you guys keep doing. If it was just one story, once in a Blue Moon or even once a year, nay, just once a month where one of you guys wasn’t doing something absolutely ridiculous, I’d have less to complain about. We teach children that participating in sports will help them stay off drugs. You teach them differently by getting caught with drugs. We teach them that in team sports, it’s not all about the me-me-me. You throw a tizzy when you don’t get your way. We teach them to value and respect women. You allegedly throw glasses at them, treat them like tradeable trophies and generally get caught with your pants down. You’re undoing all of our hard work. I’d tell them to simply ignore what you’re doing but, as you might know, a parent telling a child to ignore something makes them want to do it all the more.

I understand that you guys are some kind of a celebrity once you hit the national playing fields. I get that. Glitz and glam are awfully distracting. It probably feels good to walk in a room and know that every eye is on you, that every man wants to be you and every female wants you. I question, however, if it wouldn’t feel better to be respected both on and off the field. If you wouldn’t feel like a better person if you weren’t engaging in risky behaviors, strutting your stuff without the ability to let your guard down and occasionally breaking the law. I can’t help but imagine the stress that those kinds of things add on to the fact that, God forbid, one misstep leads to a life-altering injury and you’re simply done for good.

I don’t want to be you. I don’t envy your lifestyle or the stress you have to endure. And right now, guys, I don’t want my sons to envy you or grow up to be like you either. And that’s a shame. I’d really hate to have to add an addendum to the “you can be anything you want to be” speech to let them know that they can be anything they want to be as long as they aren’t a drug-using, women-abusing, cheating, lying, law-breaking, tax-evading professional male sports star. That’s really too long-winded, even for me.

To be honest, I’d like to go back to the day where I can watch you score a touchdown or your sport’s equivalent and not think, “I hope he doesn’t screw up again. I like watching him play.” So, if you could quit messing up your personal lives to the point of no return and just get back to the heart of it all, I’d be eternally grateful.

Sincerely,

FireMom, who is a huge sports fan herself and feels equally letdown as of late

PS – I really do still love you guys. Kind of. Most of you. Some of you. Sometimes.

* * *

Jenna Hatfield (@Firemom [link: http://twitter.com/FireMom]) blogs at Stop, Drop & Blog [link: http://stopdropandblog.com] and The Chronicles of Munchkin Land [link: http://thechroniclesofmunchkinland.com]. When she’s not ranting about or loving sports, she works as a freelance writer and a newspaper photographer.

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