Over the years I have stood in front of parents as a teacher
and coach and I have delivered the same message: Let me be the coach. I need parents to be the child’s number
one cheerleader and to support what I am doing as they encourage their kids.
Saturday I had the opportunity to practice what I have
preached.
Bailey (Boo) had her first swimming competition, and when we
arrived at the school she was complaining of a stomachache.
She was stuck to my arm and had no intentions of letting
go. One of her coaches came up to
get her from me, and Boo just looked up at me as if to say, “No, Dad, I don’t want to swim.”
Now, deep down inside I believed that she was okay to swim. That she was just nervous and scared to swim in front of all of those
people. However, when the coach
looked at me, the first thing that came out of my mouth was an excuse for my
sweet little Boo: “Her stomach hurts. I don’t know if she will be able to swim.”
My message was received by a blank stare and then the coach
grabbed Boo by the hand and they left to go warm up. As Boo looked back, I summonsed all the courage I had and told
her to “man up” (common phrase in our house) before walking away.
I headed to a parent viewing area and watched a coach talk and
encourage Boo for about ten minutes.
I really don’t know what he was saying, but his body language was
compassionate yet stern at the same time.
It was also obvious that she was going
to get in that pool, one way or another.
Standing there watching, there were many moments where I
wanted to intervene. To tell Boo what to do, or maybe even tell the coach what
to do. It was at that moment I
began to laugh at myself and say, “Okay player. Time to practice what you
preach. Let the coaches do what
they do.”
I stood there with my mouth shut, and forced myself not to
try to “help” the coach, or save my little girl. And soon after, Boo was in the pool, getting ready for her
race. Now, she was still nervous
– and had no idea what was going on – but she accepted the fact that she was
going to race.
As Boo got ready for her event, I looked over at the coach
and got ready to say thank you, but realized that he had already moved on to
helping another kid prepare for their race. He had done his job with Boo and was moving on to do work
with someone else. The moment that was so impactful for Boo (and me) was just
another coach-student encounter for him.
Finally, the gun went off for Boo’s race.
And she stood there.
Honestly. She just stood there as the other kids flew into
the water.
About two seconds later she (finally) dove in and began to
swim.
And when she came up for a breath, I saw a smile on her face. A smile that screamed: “I’m doing it!” When the race ended, her smile got even
bigger, and all she wanted to know when her next race was.
Now she didn’t win (I think she was 4/8), but she did the
most important thing, in my opinion:
She didn’t quit.
She persevered through a difficult situation; she took a
step toward developing grit.
All joking aside, I don’t think that sports are the most
important thing in life. However,
there are many life lessons that can be taught through sports. I don’t remember the names of all of my
teachers or coaches, but the ones that I do remember are the ones that pushed
me. The ones that forced me to
work harder, to become more humble, to play the role that I was asked to play
even when it wasn’t the one I wanted to play. The ones that taught me about life, and how to deal with
life. I remember names like Mrs.
Johnson, Mr. Callahan, Coach Erik, Coach Suds, Coach York and Flaschberger.
(I must also point out that I might not have had the
opportunity to be impacted by these people if my parents would have tried to
save me or make excuses for me.)
As a teacher and a coach I have been blessed enough to have
kids come back to me and thank me for the impact I have had in their lives. To
thank me for pushing them. I sit
here and smile to think of people like Red, Ruby, Deon, Alex, Joaquin, Angie,
Allen, and others. As thankful as
they might be for me, I am equally thankful for their parents. Without their parents’ willingness to
trust me, I don’t think that I would have had the same impact on them. I guarantee that those young people did
not like me all of the time. In fact
many of them cried at least once, and their parents could have stepped in and
said, “No more!”
But they didn’t.
They let me do my job and in the process we – as a team –
impacted a young life in a positive way.
So, was it hard to sit back and watch my baby girl cry and
not save her?
Yes.
But was the reward was amazing?
Yes.
Man, raising kids is the hardest thing I have ever
done. But I am looking forward to
letting the teachers and coaches in my kids’ lives help my wife and me raise our
girls.
It takes a village!
