This
generation seems to have developed a love for children’s organized team
sports unlike any before it. Whether it’s an acknowledgement to
increased global competition, a focus on fitness, or simply a love of
the juice box planning schedule, from soccer to hockey to football,
baseball, and anything else where head injuries are imminent, we’re all
there, screaming (and writing cheques) from the sidelines. But lately
I’ve been wondering where I fit in…you see I have a confession to
make. I don’t like watching team sports. I especially don’t like
watching children’s team sports. I particularly don’t like watching my
own children play team sports. It’s painful. It’s boring. And it’s a
situation full of conflict, and not just during the game.
Contradiction,
thy name is team sports. Without exception, listen in to a pre-game
session and every kids’ sports team coach will pronounce that “The
Number 1 Rule is Having Fun, Right Kids?” Crap. The unspoken Number 1
Rule is that you little brats better win this game and improve your
level of play so that the coach and the parents can have bragging rights
at the office/on the playground later. Otherwise, why do you have them
in competitive sports? The word “Competition” is right there.
We
all know the parents who say “I don’t actually care if Johnny plays
hockey – it’s all down to him, and if he loves it, I’ll keep supporting
it.” Crap, crap crap. This is said minutes after they were leaning
over them in the change room saying “I don’t care if you don’t want to
practice – we paid for it and you’re going to do it. If you don’t
practice you’ll never make the A Team. You’re seven years old, bud.
It’s time to smarten up.”
I
have some children who participate in team sports, and they love it. I
love that they love team sports. What I don’t love is the fact that
they are disappointed if I have my head stuck in a book or an electronic
messaging device at the exact moment they score a goal or cross a
finish line. So I just don’t go. Then, when they beg me to come and
see them, I go, they inevitably lose (sorry kids!), I’m pronounced a bad
luck charm and I get to retreat once more. It’s not that I’m not a
competitive person, I am, but I can’t get or feel competitive about
having my child beat out someone else’s child. I find it really weird
and totally disconcerting when children pronounce themselves the best
player on the team…in front of all of the other team mates. I’ve worked
in the corporate world and I’ve seen some real sharks in action, but
some of these kids could put them to shame. Maybe that’s what they’re
learning. After all, by definition, team sports are designed to produce
a winning team and a losing team. Children can get some great life
lessons out of that.
And
the biggest contradiction of all is that all players, on every team,
are proud recipients of the “thanks for turning up trophies” they
receive at the team dinner. All I know is that when you have to build a
trophy shelf for your six year old, there’s a problem. Perhaps if they
start handing out trophies for the “Most Fun Player” (and for once it
doesn’t mean they were the worst player), then maybe I’ll buy
into a bit more. Hey, maybe instead of being the soccer mom or the
hockey mom, I can be the Trophy Mom. Or not.
Kathy Buckworth
www.kathybuckworth.com
www.twitter.com/kathybuckworth
"Shut Up and Eat: Tales of Chicken, Children and Chardonnay" is now available at bookstores everywhere.
