Third in a series.  I acknowledge that I’m generalizing, focusing on the 51% of parent, coach, and youth sport activity that I believe constitutes mania.  There are lots of parents who sit mostly in silence and show excellent sportsmanship on the sidelines, cheering excellent play, irrespective of the color of the jerseys.  The same parents praise their children’s effort whether they fill up the stat sheet or not and offer them constructive criticism in a private, caring way.  And there are excellent coaches who focus on the forest that is their athletes’ long-term health and development.

But too often it seems, those coaches and parents seem to be overshadowed by the coaches and parents that become unhinged by single-minded competitiveness.  I’m not sure why I have let those coaches and parents ruffle my feathers so much. 

The end result of the ruffling is that for all practical purposes I have opted out of youth sports.  To L’s dismay at times, I’ve chosen not to coach, I have purposely not pushed my daughters, and I watch their games passively, alienated from the most anxious and vocal parents. 

Yes, I have considered that I’m too analytical, that I should just chill, and go along to get along, but I accept that I often think about things differently.

Youth sports, like the arts, like schooling, like religious youth groups, have so much potential for good, but too often, coaches and parents focus too exclusively on winning and squander that potential.  When children take the field, too many parents think of them as extensions of themselves.  If their kid plays poorly it reflects negatively on them; if they excel, it reflects positively on them.

Sure, it’s possible I overcompensated, but that’s water under the bridge.  Maybe I should have had higher expectations and worked with A and J one-on-one more.  If I had, maybe they would have experienced even more success and enjoyed playing even more.  I guess I was waiting for them to take the initiative to practice by themselves or with friends outside of the schedules predetermined by adults, or to ask me for help, or both.

Outside of school, my friends and I played all the time without having to because we wanted to.  Rain, snow, searing heat, the setting sun, nothing stopped us.  We’d work on our putting and jump shots under a flood light and the rain meant after school football would be that much more fun.  I routinely played 9 or 18 holes of golf by myself.  If my daughters are representative of today’s generation of young athletes, they play when they’re told to, which begs the question, do they play mostly as a result of adult expectations?  And would the youngest athletes have even more fun if left to their own devices?

Richard Williams, father of Venus and Serena Williams, is an odd bird, but he did something as a tennis coach of his young daugthers that I think was brilliant.  Once a year he’d take their racquets and hide them in a closest in their Compton, CA house to see how they’d react.  He’d do this as a check on whether they were developing an intrinsic love of the game.  Apparently, they’d take one day off and then begin tearing the house apart on day two. 

What percentage of our young athletes is developing a genuine fondness for their activities of choice?  What would happen if the adults didn’t organize their leagues, didn’t unfurl their lawn chairs on the sidelines of their games, didn’t watch their every move two nights a week, and didn’t affirm their every effort?