How to survive youth sports

These past few months have been great. I can power-walk at the local field without suffering a concussion from random fly balls. I can shop for groceries without worrying that an entire team of ten year-olds will vote me out of the league for bringing granola bars and water for Snack Day. I’ve finally found the time on a Saturday to solve age-old questions like, “Why does this house smell like burnt toast?”

After long days at work and school, the kids play outside while Husband falls asleep in front of the television. Life is good. The American Dream realized.

Then Oldest comes into the house, dragging half the yard with him, and blows my hard-earned tranquility all to hell.

“It’s time to sign up for Little League,” he announces right before I pass out.

If you have athletically-inclined sons who, for one reason or another, enjoy running and spitting and adjusting their cups, often at the same time, then you probably understand my fear and trepidation. Youth sports are anxiety-inducing torture sessions with parents who make The Great Santini seem supportive.

Yet, if our children want to play and even promise to take out the trash twice a week without complaint, what can we do? My kids aren’t interested in chess. I’ve tried. So I haul my happy ass to the ballpark, stand in line, pay my deposit, and hope for the best.

The last time I wrote about my experiences with organized sports, Husband stopped appearing with me in public. But on the upside, I heard from coaches and parents, both in Tampa Bay and beyond, who are trying to change the culture of youth sports. Jim Thompson with Positive Coaching Alliance called and spoke with me at length about what parents can do to help their kids not only survive, but reap benefits from this whole athletic experience. He sent me his educational and informative book, The High School Sports Parent.

After talking with him, reading his book, meeting with other coaches and parents, sifting through hundreds of emails, ignoring the ones with profanity and directions to hell, I have compiled a list of helpful hints. Turns out there are ways to survive Spring Ball without blowing a brain cell.

Check this out.

Communicate. A parent’s approval means more to kids than anything, including a three-point jump shot. Attend every practice and game; be aware of those in charge and check that power with your own important influence. Talk to your kids and be ready to provide guidance and advice and an increase in their allowance if they get through a game without spitting. They will hear a lot in the dugout and should be able to go to you for help. Consult Urban Dictionary for the really confusing curse words.

Stock up on Tylenol. It helps with the inevitable headaches brought on by hours of batting cages, tackling dummies, equipment shopping, extra practices, and tournament pressure. You will hear “hustle” and “move” in your sleep for the next four months. Get used to it.

Buy a cup and jock strap that fits. ‘Nuff said.

Say “Amen”? Many friends, including two atheists, suggest faith-based athletic programs are a positive alternative to the win-at-all-costs mentality of public clubs. To be honest, my Jewish sons throw more like Baptists, so perhaps ending every huddle with “In Jesus’ name we pray” isn’t too far of a stretch.

Approach the coach and offer to help, preferably after the veins in his neck have stopped popping. Be kind and polite, but don’t make eye contact. Wolves, Rottweilers, and Bobby Knight disciples can smell fear. Offer to work together. Unfortunately, outside the bedroom, I don’t know the difference between interference and penetration, so I’m no help at all. But if you can catch a ball without shrieking, get out there and help. Lead by example.

Smile. You aren’t alone. Plenty of concerned parents and coaches want their kids to have a positive experience on the field instead of material for a tell-all book when they burn out at eighteen.

Stay positive. Ask friends and family to attend games and practice. Cheer on the team and counteract negativity with love and relentlessly positive feedback. You can and will change the culture of sports. Even if only in your back yard.

Call around to local leagues. Ask them to participate in the Positive Coaching Alliance. Coaches have the greatest influence on kids after parents, teachers, and SpongeBob. Encourage league officials to adopt a positive-to-negative feedback ratio of 10 to 1.

Blog about it. If parents and coaches act the fool, expose their shenanigans. Submit op-eds to local papers. Write a letter to the editor. One bit of advice, though: Don’t post names or pictures. This isn’t because death threats or ad hominem attacks mean anything. They don’t; however, abuse in youth sports is rampant. Parents in other parts of the country shouldn’t read your words and believe for a second that bad behavior only happens elsewhere. While publicly shaming abusive coaches and parents is fun, you may do more good to keep criticisms generic.

Coaches want to win. Players with a full emotional tank do better and score more than kids who are afraid and annoyed. Set good examples and speak out. If nothing else works, bring a camera to the games. Adults who think they’re going to star in a YouTube video tend to behave better. Trust me.

Tags: little league, pony league, Positive Coaching Alliance, youth sports