Reading an article in the Wall Street Journal called “A Rookie Sports Parent’s Guide to Sports Parenting” by Jason Gay, brought back fond and crazy memories from years ago. When we were first sports parents, our son tried tee-ball. We had some hilarious moments of funny things the kids did, but also not so funny ways that parents acted–including ourselves.
My son never seemed to get into the game. But he loved sitting in the dirt building castles and daydreaming, without noticing or caring that a ball flew or rolled past him. Once, an athletic youngster hit the ball and charged straight out to the field getting to his ball before anyone else could to bring it back. All the parents laughed at that.
It was all going okay, since we didn’t mind our son’s fascination with anything in the field except the ball, until the day one of the coach dads asked my husband to help out. I knew it wasn’t a good idea. My husband is the type of overly enthusiastic guy who can go overboard easily. So when my son was laying in the dirt as short stop, crafting a castle from the red clay and a ball was headed his way, my husband grabbed our son by the back of the shirt, pick him up, and the two raced after the ball together! That was one of the not so good memories. After that day, my husband at least had enough sense to be embarrassed and refused to help out as a tee-ball coach ever again.
We made it through the first season of tee-ball and the season ended with a pool party at our house, complete with the required trophies for everyone–including our son the dirt castle builder. One good thing we did for him–we never signed him up for a season of tee-ball again. We recognized it wasn’t his thing.
Here’s an excerpt from the Wall Street Journal:
“A columnist enters the magical world of practices, game days, and cheese sticks. So far, so good—but it’s early…”
I’ve recently become a bona fide sports parent. I think it’s going fine. I’ve yet to get arrested for sumo-wrestling another parent in the parking lot. Of course, there’s plenty of season left, so who knows.
Here’s what I’ve learned so far:
• The college scholarship offers…I don’t know what your experience was, but I’ll be honest: They haven’t exactly come rushing in. My son is two games into his spring season, and we haven’t had a single nibble from a college coach.
• I should mention my son is 6 years old, and he just started playing Pee Wee baseball. But still, college coaches: Make us an offer! Even a half scholarship will do. Wisconsin: Where are you?
• I’m giving my son two more weeks to get a scholarship offer before I start photoshopping his head atop the bodies of high-school rowers. Is this illegal? Please let me know.
• Ah that’s right: Wisconsin hasn’t had a baseball team for ages. This seems bizarre. The Badgers have a varsity bratwurst team.
• The parents around my son’s team are kind, encouraging and seem uninterested in being bad sports parents—you know, the sports parents that end up on the 11 p.m. local news, swinging folding chairs at each other. To be sure, it’s easier being a good sports parent when it’s just 6-year-olds. I’m sure the sports parenting gets a lot more intense when the games mean something, and the kids are older, like 7.
• So far, we’re staying local. This keeps it sane. Every sports parent I know with older sports children says the happiest days of their lives are when their children are born—and the saddest days are when their children make travel teams.
• It’s kids—not adults—who have the correct perspective on sports. My son likes playing baseball, but if, on the way to the game, I told him we were going to skip baseball and go look for hermit crabs, he’d be perfectly fine with that, too.
• Last week my son asked me: “Do we have that thing on Saturday…What’s that thing I play?” It was adorable, and yet I also thought: Here’s a golden opportunity to prank him into thinking he’s on a badminton team.
There is a lot more good stuff in Jason Gay’s article. I suggest you click on the link above and read it. Having been through the years of sports parenting and being a sports parenting writer — I’m kind of jealous. He’s got all these years ahead of him to enjoy.
What are some of the funny or crazy moments you remember as a sports parent — or that your parents did?