One of my favorite players, while coaching ‘semi-pro’ was a guy named Jerry. The league knew him as this out-of-control and sort of dirty player. He would get wound up with his asthma attacks and get into verbal altercations on the field. But to me, despite his reputation as a loose cannon, he was actually more coachable than many on the team. The guy could’ve easily ripped my head off, he was a fairly large guy (playing defensive end) and a physical force on the field. However, in the few times when I did need to directly to intervene, he was surprisingly respectful. I mean, he would address me as “coach” and, every time, after a few mumbles, he would back down. He would even often apologize later.
Only once, with a little alcohol involved, did I catch a small glimpse of what was driving him. At the time, in his late forties or early fifties, he recalled how his own dad had pushed him. He was abusive and never satisfied. And football was the direction his dad was pushing him in. Jerry had D-1 offers as a younger man. Yet, ultimately, he walked away from the sport at that level and much to do with the pressure he had felt. Obviously, he was still very conflicted over all of this. He played as if a demon were biting at his ankles, a man on fire, and probably pushing a little too hard for a man his age. I’ve lost contact with him, not even sure if he lives in the area anymore, but his story is a cautionary tale for me as I try to navigate my son’s current involvement in athletic endeavors.
I love sports as a training ground for life. It is an opportunity for character development, to learn lessons about work and reward, teamwork, etc. I had my own regrets for having started competing only very late in high school and, therefore, have been very pleased that my own son wrestled over the winter and has been practicing for football season. He’s an amazing athlete for his age. He won his bracket in wrestling, his first year out, with a combination of will, natural strengths, and things learned from his coaches. It has not taken much encouragement to keep him going. He is an enthusiastic participant and seems to really enjoy himself with other kids his age. There have been a couple of times when he was upset and seemed ready to quit, but the next day he has always come back for more.
Desirous Distractions
Of the things I hate most, his tablet is probably in the top ten. We had successfully hidden it away (he didn’t miss it after a week or two) and yet brought it back out due to some current circumstances that make it better to keep him occupied. The result has been like an addict, or binge, where he would use the device non-stop if we allowed it. It turns him from an active and engaged kid, who loves to swim in the local pool and requires a ton of attention, to a slug barely moving for hours. It’s not healthy and that’s the reason why I’ve fought back against this and haven’t minced my words on this topic with him either. I’ve been glad that we had football practices to give that indisputable non-negotiable reason to separate him from the screen. However, the other day, after practice, he confessed that he wished that he didn’t play football so he could be on his tablet more!
One of my successes, so far, as a parent was to keep sports as his idea. Sure, I want him to play, I have done my part to facilitate his involvement as well, but I’ve mostly let him lead in what direction he wanted to go and was glad that his own desires lined up with my own. I’m sure my own hopes and expectations have found their way to influence, children likely know their parents better than their parents know them and generally want to please them. He knows that I’m a Penn State football fan and that, Charlie, the elementary wrestling coach was an old teammate. So it isn’t really surprising that he went down this path similar to my own. Still, I didn’t want to be one of those dads, the kind living vicariously through their son and putting undue stress on him. It does seem we’re too sports-obsessed, where youth leagues are year-round, there is this camp and that camp, which is driven by parents with glowing ambitions more than it is by the children themselves. I wouldn’t be all that surprised if many of these overworked and pushed too hard will quit. At the very least, it won’t be enjoyable.
The big question for me is what would I do if my son said “I don’t want to play anymore.” I’ve already assured him that not playing doesn’t mean he would get more time with his tablet and that he would probably be bored. And he seems to understand that he needs to finish what he started as far as the current season. Nevertheless, the chill I felt, all of my own dreams of watching him now threatened, could easily lead to my being more controlling. It is scary to me that a tablet, this path of least resistance, has so much appeal that he would sacrifice all for it. I’ve also had to question my own motives. Am I doing what is best for him? When I restrict access, when I push him to do things that make him uncomfortable, that’s the reason why I do. But as a parent, we really need to be careful not to project our own desires onto our children so much that they are stifled and not free to be themselves.
The Elusive Balance
My son would likely be completely happy if I just let him play on his tablet nonstop. Maybe he would eventually get over it on his own if we didn’t interfere? I mean, I doubt it. There are always new games to download and more distractions to occupy for hours and hours. And that’s my concern, that the hours he spends vegging out could be put to much better use. It would be negligence, on my part, to simply give him what he wants and never resist his short-sighted perspective. It is my job to develop him, to make him ready for life and sports are one of those tools used towards that end. I don’t want him to develop character, not to be a character in a video game. I want him to get exercise, experience the tactile and real world, and not just live in the fantasies that others created for him. I must resist him.
That said, football is also just a game. I don’t want to be that dad who ended up putting so much pressure on his son to be successful that it ruined our relationship and he quits in frustration. There is much more to life than statistics or the accomplishments that the world will notice. Yes, I would beam with pride if my son were to score a touchdown, be on a state championship team, and be good enough to compete at the next level. A college scholarship, of course, would be great. He doesn’t seem to be the type that will get that in the classroom, so why not encourage the path that he does have? Still, that is exactly the problem. I quickly get way out ahead of reality and with that could quickly destroy even my own enjoyment of the moment. He should, as a child, be involved because it is fun. Certainly, I must coach a little, put some restrictions here and incentives there, but ultimately he needs to choose.
I don’t want my son to go down the path of least resistance. I want him to be resilient, a leader, involved, pushing back, and growing his abilities rather than comfortable. I truly want him to be better than me in all regards. Or, at the very least, to be better for having had me be a part of his life. Sometimes this will require me to bump against his will, dig in my heels a bit, and not let him rest on his laurels or waste the opportunities he has. Other times I will need to step back, let him go his own way, learn at his own pace, and accept that his goals for life may not align with my own. The real struggle is the wisdom to know when to intervene and how. Hopefully, he knows my heart is oriented towards his good even if my execution is flawed. And, actually, I’m okay if we’re not always friends so long as what I’m offering him is a way to go beyond my own limits and reach his full potential as a man, that’s my reward.
Irregular Ideation 