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there are not many things that threaten to reduce me to a butthead in public.
but over-the-top parents at youth sporting events will do it for me just about every time.
tonight, i went to watch son #1 referee a local eighth grade boys basketball game. i got there a few minutes late and took my seat in the bleachers in front of a young dad…who looked like he had just got off work from his junior executive position somewhere. complete with his over-worked blackberry in hand.
this dad was non-stop criticism.
the primary recipient was his own son. according to dad, his son didn’t: run hard enough…throw crisp passes…go to the hole with authority…rebound strong…act like a leader…shuffle his feet on defense…take enough shots…have cross court vision…follow his shots…set hard picks…or trap the opponent on the baseline.
…and the kid definitely heard him loud and clear. pretty much everybody did.
his son wasn’t his only target. he belittled his son’s teammates for not playing hard. he voiced his displeasure at boys who threw bad passes or took ill-advised three-point shots. he openly…and loudly…questioned the young coach’s strategy and decision-making.
the refs took their shots from this dude, also.
and he did this all while constantly texting and checking his email. true multi-tasking.
i bit my tongue for most of the game. what he needed was for me to take him out to the woodshed for a little one-on-one with a guy who has seen it all…and heard it all…and lived it all…in youth sports.
while i appreciate that he was, at least, present for his son’s game. so many kids these days only play in front of audiences of their peers. for many, their parents are either too busy or too disconnected to even make it to the games. it’s a shame that the bar for good parenting is set so low…
and this dad didn’t come close to exceeding it.
so i’m going to say right here, what i wish i would have had the relationship with him to say to his face:
dad, just shut up. really. just stuff it. don’t you see the look in your son’s eyes when he looks back at you? don’t you see that you are slowly, but surely, pushing him away? he’s only thirteen years old, for crying out loud. your son doesn’t need you to be his coach anymore. he needs you to be his cheerleader.fold out your little foam bleacher seat and just watch your kid. relish your front row seat in the drama of his growing up. share his successes. be sad with him in his failures. stop telling him what he’s doing wrong. let his coaches do that. save whatever instruction you feel compelled to give him for a private moment at mcdonald’s after the game.you are going to blink and it’s all going to be over. those eighth grade games bleed over into high school games quickly. i know. i’ve lived it. maybe your son will be good enough to make the freshman team next year…and maybe he’ll even get the awesome experience of playing varsity ball someday.more than likely, he won’t, though. but if he does, it certainly won’t be because you screamed instruction to him from the stands. it will be because he develops a personal passion for the sport and pays the price to get better everyday. …and he’ll do it because he wants to…not because you want him to. so love him and hold him and forgive him and laugh with him and encourage him until you have no more vocal chords. give him attention and grace and learn how to smile with wonder and amazement at his big feet and the horrific cracks in his changing voice.and shut up. in love.
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