Parents Can Push Too Hard

Like many small town coaches, my father wore many hats. As a head coach and athletic director in Missouri for nearly 20 years, he didn't just coach football and basketball. It was also track and golf all thrown into one job title. Not to mention he found time to teach four classes of English. Growing up as a coach's daughter, I was literally born to love sports. The weekend I was born, the Monett High School golf team played in a tournament not far from the hospital. After the final round, more than a dozen players stood in front of the hospital nursery window and welcomed the newest Cub to the team. My mom will remind me of that story every April. For the first four years of my life I practically lived in the gym. I used to crawl across the bleachers during my dad's football and basketball games, logging more minutes than most players. If I wasn't at the school, I was sitting around the kitchen table at home listening to my father and the rest of the coaches talk strategy. Being in that environment was normal. It wasn't until I moved to Fort Smith and was old enough to play organized athletics that I realized it was my choice to stay in sports. My parents never forced me to play anything. I think that was why the years of Saturday practices and road trips to tournaments were so enjoyable; because I wanted to be involved. It wasn't my parents trying to relive their dreams through me. Would it have been different if my dad was a band director? Maybe, but if I never picked up the French horn, he would have been fine with that decision. I never felt the pressure of something many kids these days feel every time they step onto a field or a court. I can remember going to a T-ball game a few years ago to watch a friend's nephew play his first baseball game. Keep in mind these kids were five- and six-years-old. The event quickly turned from being fun to uncomfortable. I remember a red-faced dad, doubling as a coach, fly out of the dugout, get into the face of his son playing first base and yelling out of control at the boy for not making a catch. I'm not sure who was more embarrassed, the fans watching this horrible display of arrogance or the child who was practically in tears. If that kid doesn't hate baseball by the time he turns 12-years-old I'll be surprised. Even though my dad retired from coaching, he still gave his input around the dinner table when I got home from a big game but it was never negative or demeaning. You can take the coach away from the job, but you can't take the job away from the coach. He taught me two important rules: First, respect your coach. Never ask to play, never question the coach's authority and never back talk. Secondly, when you start a season on a team, you can't quit until the schedule is over, no matter how unhappy you are with your team. If you don't experience failure, winning will never be rewarding.-