Little Jimmy is gonna support me in my bitter old age.

(slate.com)

 

I love participating in sports. When I was young I enjoyed playing soccer, and little league baseball. Later in Jr. High I participated in football, basketball, wrestling and  threw shot put and discus on the track team. In high school I ran cross country and excelled as a wrestler. In all that time my parents never once yelled at me or my coaches or the refs, at least not that I can remember. They tried to be present at most of my games, meets, and matches and when they weren't they expressed remorse for not being able to come. I never felt pressure from them to succeed, in fact I broke my leg playing JV football as a freshman but my parents waited three weeks to take me to the doctor because they thought I just didn't want to play anymore. I had a very supportive environment to be able to learn to enjoy sport and the only pressure I felt was what I put on myself. I never saw my parents or my friends parents fly off the handle when things didn't go our way like these parents in Colorado.

I can, however, vividly remember the wrestling coach from another school screaming at a wrestler on his own team during a match. After the match was over he continued to berate him for what he did wrong. I want to say that the poor kid had actually won but I cant remember for sure. The thing that stood out to me the most was my Mom's comment later. "If he was your coach you wouldn't be wrestling." Even though I loved wrestling we were in complete agreement. I respond well to constructive criticism and the occasional butt-chewing but constantly yell and scream at me and I'll shut down. Besides, I was pretty sure that I wasn't going to be an athlete in college (much like the other 98% of high school athletes) so I was there mostly to do my best and have fun, and my parents adopted the role of cheering me on. 

My dad was very athletic growing up too. He was an outstanding pitcher, played on the basketball and football teams at Bingham High in the Salt Lake Valley and even placed at the BYU invitational track meet in shot put as a 9th grader. The one story he told that has stuck with me since I heard it had to do with an abusive coach. He was pitching and his coach was apparently not to happy with my dads performance. My dad seemed to think that the criticism was unjustified because at the point where he'd had enough he walked from the mound to the backstop, climbed the chain link, and plopped himself down in the stands. It was the end of his time on the team. The point I took from this experience was that when you stop having fun playing sports its time to hang up the cleats.

One of the things I appreciated the most was my parents attitude about my participation. I can't recall a single time they corrected me after a game or match. There was no film review or criticism of any kind. They just supported me. They never came out and said "I love watching you play" but I could tell they were enjoying my enjoyment and sharing my frustration. In fact my most poingnant moment in my sports career happened with my dad. I had just walked off the mat after losing in the championship match of the State wrestling tournament. I found a place to be alone, punched a table, and started crying.  Six months of anticipation erupted from my eyes and nose in recognition of a goal left unaccomplished. Within seconds my dad was hugging me and not saying a word. I greatly appreciate now the way my parents helped me to interpret sports and their role in life. I only hope I can do the same for my kids.