Winds of Opposition

I sat in the park waiting for my son's soccer practice to conclude. I have always loved when my kids played sports. Not organized sports but sports in junior high and high school. I limited my experiences with organized sports because I could no longer stand the other parents. I struggled each and every game with parents who tried to re-live their past glories through their children or who yelled from the sidelines; yelling that often included belittling and threats. I usually rue the day I relinquish my decision to stay away from little league or girls' softball leagues and here I go, facing a rue, I have decided to give it one more try and my son is now playing AYSO.

I shall keep you posted how this one turns out. I guess hope springs eternal, eh? I hope for my son to meet other kids his age as we have just moved to the area. I hope he learns lessons in teamwork and fairplay. I hope he adjusts to a sport he knows little about. I hope the other parents are parents and not tyrants. I hope I get to see every single game. I hope he enjoys it. Yes, there is indeed a lot of hope involved.

While I sat, the wind picked up and I could feel the breeze turn colder. It was Auigust and yet it felt like late Fall and the wind grew, becoming relentless. I could feel my heart harden and I was wishing I was home making dinner or writing in front of my computer. I stopped my thoughts then and there. I could hear a voice say, "There is opposition in all things." Normally, I do not mind opposition because it makes me work harder, it makes my stubborn streak darker and I usually am on a path of learning as soon as there is opposition. So, I embraced the wind, I let go of my fear of other parents and the damage they could do to my kid, let alone their own, and I am willing to face it all head-on.

The only thing that darn wind can do is mess up my hair, right? That's an easy fix and the reason for pony tails. The wind makes the young sapling stronger, that is the hope anyway. As my son and I walked to the car, he was invigorated and he was hot and thankful for the wind, for the cooler breeze. One man's junk is another man's treasure. There are lessons in everything we do. I often learn from my children; Iong ago letting go of my parental pride, saying I am sorry when I am, and giving when I could.

The sailor uses the wind to move his ship. The windmill uses the wind to draw water or crush grain. Working with what seems to be our opposition can develop skills we never knew existed or we thought impossible to develop, I often try to exploit my liabilities and use them to my benefit. Anyone can benefit from an asset, right? So, I will sail my own ship, I will grind my own grain - all in an effort for continued growth and development. It's a sacrifice I can afford.

by rayannethorn

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Permalink Reply by Sean Connell on August 17, 2010 at 11:17am

Hi Rayanne,

It is funny you post this as my little one is just starting training for Field Hockey in the UK aged 4 and for my sins i have taken up the role of Welfare officer for the boys. I wanted to try and include the parents in promoting positive encorougement on the pitchside. Shouting at children is not only bad form it is also very confusing when they are trying to learn how to enjoy a sport which is clomplex enough and they are being given contridictive advice by parents (who in the childs minds are the teachers of all). The wind side does make me smile also as when i read your piece it made me i thought of the day when we placed a footballer in the cold water bath to bring him out of hyperthermia. So is suppose appropriate clothing for the boys means more than shin guards, mouth guad and hand guard.

Will be interesting to see if the shouting has passed or up to what age this stays clear.

Thanks
Sean

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Permalink Reply by Sandra McCartt on August 17, 2010 at 1:23pm

Every kid should come with a button on the back of their head labeled "Parental Control and interference". Upon entering an institution of learning or the sports field the teacher or coach pushes the button. Parents are rendered totally silent until the kid leaves the venue.

Many moons ago when i coached my kids teams i asked every parent to bring a video camera to video their kid so they could see themselves after the game was over. I assigned various locations on the field so the videos could be shot from different angles. Several things happened. 1. Obnoxious parents do not make as much noise or at least can not be heard as well from the end of the field behind the goal. 2. Most parents upon hearing themselves screaming like a fishwife or a demented dock hand hours after the heat of the event tend to realize how stupid they sound. 3. Playing a video of a screaming parent at a team gathering is a great object lesson.

Coaching kids is great. Coaching parents. Not so much.

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Permalink Reply by C. B. Stalling!! on August 23, 2010 at 8:59am

My son is on a very very high level baseball teams and we just had tryouts for a few spots. I know how you feel. After the team was selected the phone stated to burn up with my son did not make it can you believe it. I have always taught my son work hard and good thing happen. When I retire from recruiting I am going to write a sports partenting book. Maybe we can write it toghther.

May the wind always be at your back.....