There are times like tonight that I am glad that our son did
not get big into sports. Let me explain.
Like most parents, when our son was born we had big dreams
for him, go to college, marry a beautiful girl, have 5 children, be the star of
a sports team, become rich and famous.
Of course we knew these were more our dreams than his and they would not
all come true, especially the star of a sports team. His parents were both terrible at sports and
not competitive enough to succeed. As he
grew we made sure he had the opportunity to participate in any he was
interested in, t-ball, soccer and basketball.
He played several years of t-ball, but didn’t seem to care if he didn’t
get to continue on. It may have been
because he wasn’t all that great. So we
tried soccer. He was better at this, but it also didn’t seem to pique his
interest. He played basketball for several years. He wasn’t great but he
enjoyed it. Then one year he played on a
team where the coach was more concerned with his son playing than being fair to
all the other players. His son played on two different teams and one game he
chose the other team. So an assistant
coach was put in charge. Winning was a
priority and our best player was at the other game. P anxiously awaited his turn to be put
in. Our neighbor showed up to see how
they were doing and asked if he could play.
The assistant coach said, “Sure.”
P sat the bench the entire game.
We talked to the assistant coach, but he only shrugged his shoulders, as
I said winning was a priority. That was
the end of our being basketball parents.
P’s junior year he decided to run cross country. The CC coach lived just a few houses down and
P had watched the team practice on our street for years. He wasn’t fast, but he stuck with it for the
season. It didn’t help any that we had
some warts burned off his knees during the season. During his freshman year he
began playing the trombone in the pep band. Although not a sport, he watched a
lot of games, football and basketball. He quite enjoyed this except for his
friends thought that it was nerdy. So he
quit his senior year, although he stayed in the jazz band.
Now fast forward to tonight.
We live in a great location. A
school playground in our back yard. You
may think the happiest place on earth is Disneyland, but it is really recess on
a school playground. We love it. During the after school hours and summer it
turns into either a 4 diamond t-ball, 2 soccer game, or tag football
field. Just to the east of it is the
Larry Wilson football field, with lights and a scoreboard, very official. The sound of whistles blowing, parents
cheering and coaches yelling fill the air each night, whether it is a game or
just practice. Tonight was no different.
I was out picking tomatoes and beans in the garden when I heard a coach
take after two boys who were not working out with the rest of the team. He stormed across the practice field, steam
pouring out his ears and grabbed the two boys.
I didn’t seen what they were doing but it must have been serious enough
to risk the wrath of the coach. The
words that spewed out of the coaches mouth were shocking, words that no child
should be forced to hear. After several
minutes of berating these boys with a variety of swear words thrown in he
calmed down (I think he realized I was out there and could clearly hear every
vile word he uttered). It was at this
point I was glad that it wasn’t my son who was being severely chastised. In defense of the coach he did try to smooth
things over and play up the “we are all a team and you are Important and I want
you to succeed” card. But it was too
late, the damage had been done, my ears had been grossly offended and my heart
went out to the two boys. I did learn
there was some verbal fighting between the two boys, some name calling and
punches thrown.
I do have one favorite coach, our neighbor. He has a deep voice that carries far. I always know when he is out there. I have yet to hear any other coach be so
positive with the players, even when they make serious mistakes that may mean
the team will lose. He will bring in the
player, give him a pep talk, and then show him his mistake and what he can do
to avoid it next time. After a pat on
the back, a final encouraging word he sends the player back in with a “thumbs
up and I know you can do it.” The other positive thing about him is that while
he always coached his own son’s teams, he never played favorites during a game. Yes he spent extra time with them, doing a
one on one training, but that was always on his own time and their friends were
always invited to join. If he could have
been our son’s coach I think our son would have enjoyed sports more. But Coach Brown is a rarity; a one of a kind
who began coaching too many years after our son was done with them.
I am glad that our son is grown. Someday I hope he has
children of his own and perhaps they will enjoy sports in a way that our son
never did. I hope if they do that they
are blessed with a Coach Brown.
