Before I even begin, I acknowledge that my words may be controversial for some to hear. Today's topic: parents at sporting events.
Proceed with caution.
I'd like to present a few disclaimers about my credibility on this topic:
* While I had a short high school softball career, I can't recall my parents attending a game. My mom probably came to some, but I was a self-absorbed teenager who didn't log it as significant at the time. But, just as likely, she didn't make it. This was not because my parents were negligent, mind you. It was because they worked a lot to provide for us.
* While I was an active member of our competition marching band in high school, and attended football games every Friday night for four years, I still don't know (or care to know) how football works. Gene watches the Steelers religiously, and I am often in the same room. That's as far as it goes, friends.
* My eldest son had a brief stint in AYSO and Little League. On the soccer field, he was more interested in the bugs and plants, and in baseball, the fun ended when a coach grabbed him by the shoulders and forced him to "sit down and be quiet." That got ugly. Not the purpose of this post, though. Stay focused, people.
* My daughter played AYSO. (Stops to try to remember how long she played. Can't really come up with an answer.) Let's go with two years, maybe? Either way, it was the, "Awww! Look how cute they are, chasing the ball in a swarm" years.
* My youngest child (age 11) is our "sporty kid," placed in quotes because he's also the kid who takes tap classes, sings in the choir, plays the bells, and wants to be a marine biologist. We're a family of Renaissance men, what can I say? He loves soccer and basketball. Soccer has grown exponentially in his heart this year. Despite attending nearly every single game, I'm still not clear how a player gets "off-sides" but my soccer-watching skills far surpass my football-watching ones.
OK. All that being said -- here we go!
I have noticed 3 types of parents at the soccer games I've attended in my vast (haha) career as a soccer mom. I'm open to the possibility that there may be more types, and perhaps even sub-types of the 3 outlined below. Since my son intends on playing soccer for the foreseeable future, I may amend this list as time goes on. After all, the indoor season is nearly upon us -- who knows what that could bring.
Back to the types --
The "I'm Physically Present But I'm Actually Just On My Phone" type. This parent checks some sort of box in their mind by bringing the kid to the game, or showing up to the game to "see" their kid, but they spend the entire time texting, scrolling, and/or gaming. This activity increases if their kid happens to be on the bench for a quarter.
The "I'm Here to Support My Kid and All of the Kids" type. This is where people like me fit in. I'm there, in my team colors, wearing a button with my kid's picture on it (much to their chagrin) with the extra snack and water bottle in tow. I drive a Subaru Outback, stocked with portable chairs, umbrellas, hats, and a change of clothes, just in case. I yell things like, "Go, Liam! Great job!" and "Let's go, Gold!" I know every kid's name on my son's team. I cheer for them all. When the other team blocks a goal, I yell, "Way to go, Keeper! Nice stop!" I often lose track of the score, and really only worry about it when I notice my son and his teammates feeling discouraged. I feel bad when we are crushing the other team, wishing that AYSO had a mercy rule. Sure, I want my kid's team to win every time, but I don't lose sight of the fact that they are kids, and this is a game.
Oh, shoot! I've already thought of a sub-type to this one. The "I Totally Cater to My Kid's Every Whim Because He's an Athlete" type. hahahaa. Do I need to say more here, really? This is the (usually) Mom that has all the stuff that I do, PLUS they have three different sandwiches prepped, in case little Joey doesn't like the first two. They are still dressing their kid, they hover over them, asking, "Do you need more water? What about a Gatorade? Does that invisible scratch need a Band-Aid?" Oh, those ones make me tired just watching them.
The "I'm Living Through My Kid Who Isn't Living Up to My Expectations" type. These are the parents (often Dads, but just as often Moms, to be honest) who micromanage their child through detailed instructions, yelled from the sidelines: "Joey! Move over, go to the right, now cross, pass! Pass! Joey! That's yours! Get it and then pass to Timmy!" They also like to let the ref know what call to make before he even has a chance to move his whistle to his lips: "That's off-sides!" (because of course, THEY know what this means!) or "That's a red throw-in!" When I am near this type of parent, I have to fight the urge to hand them a volunteer form and suggest that if they would like to coach the team or be a ref, the first step is to sign up!
Here's my problem with the micromanager-cheering parent: the kid never learns to make their own decisions as a player. I watched one kid constantly checking the sidelines for approval (or disapproval) and he was nearly paralyzed because of it. He couldn't process the information coming at him (where the ball was, where his teammates were, where the other players were) for himself; he was waiting for instructions. When he did make a choice, he second-guessed it and was timid in his follow through. Perhaps these micromanaging parents mean well (actually, I am fairly sure they mean well -- they want their kid to be successful), but the result is that they are undermining their kid's confidence and independence along the way.
I've noticed a change in my son this season, too. When he would be on the sidelines for a quarter in the past, he would sit and play with the grass, or goof off with his teammates. Now, he stands by the coach, engaged in the game, watching and learning. The kids with the micromanaging parents tend to disengage from the game when they are on the bench -- probably relieved to be out of the parental spotlight for a moment.
Living vicariously through your child has always struck me as sad. I mean that literally, sad. I believe it comes out of a place of regret, out of a place of reluctance to admit that your glory days have passed. Even in our very musical, theatre-oriented family, there has never been pressure on my kids to be involved in the arts. They have all selected their activities on their own, and when it became clear that an activity wasn't right for them, we moved on. I don't expect my children to live better versions of my childhood or to somehow make up for my failures. I want them to become the best versions of themselves and find their true path.
Now, should I try to remember what "off-sides" means, or maybe even stop telling Liam to put on his cleats so he's not late for "rehearsal," or refrain from accidentally calling his game uniform his "costume"? Sure, we are all works in progress.
But, I can promise you this: you won't catch me micromanaging my kids at a performance of any kind -- on the field, on the stage, on the . . . I don't know, wherever else they might be. Instead, they will know I am there, supporting and loving them through success and failure, every step of the way.
OK, I think I've thrown enough gasoline onto the Internet fire for today. Thanks for staying with me, if you made it this far. ;)
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