Tortoise & Hare. Youth Athletics.

We can choose to live vicariously through our kids. We can congratulate and encourage their athletic triumphs, but realistically, we may have no more Tom Bradys within our neighborhoods.

Youth Sports are far different today from what I remember as a child. I played almost everything team-oriented (softball, flag football, soccer, volleyball) until I landed with tennis. I quit all else and chose tennis solely; because really, how much time in a day did my parents have for all that nonsense of multiple sporting events for two kids? And they wanted some of our weekends back, as anyone would. I played four to six times a week and loved it, competitively and passionately, until I burned out in high school. Later I took the few small bones that were thrown at me to be a walk-on in college, because well  . . . . it was a hard habit to break. My parents never pushed me and I actually think they’d have been happy if I took it down a notch and did other things. Eventually my passion died and I was perfectly fine with it, as were they. Sadly, I never pick up a racquet anymore.

Today there is club or travel-level everything. Competitive goals, training, disappointment and failure all start so young. I am conflicted. It’s a catch-22 because if your child is good, loves it but he doesn’t play at a club level or the like, he may be lost along the wayside should he wish to compete in a few years. “He’ll be so far behind.” And that’s just plain insane to me. Are the days gone when a child can pick up a sport at say ten – twelve years old and be good enough to compete if he chooses? Chances may be slim. It’s a competitive, tough, expensive and time-consuming world today for youth athletics. And it’s also very contradictory in society.

At most elementary schools today, ‘Track & Field Day’ is an everyone wins event. Gone are the days when only one child wins the blue first place ribbon and there are more losers than winners. Kids no longer have to go home and tell their parents they didn’t place in an event, with tears accompanying their admission. Something like, “I hate track and field. It’s stupid,” and parents are forced to have the conversation that he doesn’t have to be good at everything, because really… he’s not. Then remind him that he might be better at swimming, music, spelling or science and redirect the loss empathetically but realistically. Maybe a cold reality, but reality none-the-less – and an invaluable lesson learned early on for my generation. Today everyone gets a ribbon or a trophy and everyone gets warm fuzzies instead of cold pricklies, at least in the educational environment of athletics. I’m guessing lot of kids think they are much better, stronger, smarter and athletic than they probably are…. but not to worry, life will disappoint them eventually, even if no one has the strength to tell them otherwise while they’re still young. Generation “Yes, you’re great!” only postpones the agony. So again, I’m conflicted.

I see the competition within my own family. My kids compare grades, tooth losses, goals, speeds, eating habits and reading levels – just to name a few. It’s normal. And irritating. The fact is that one is always going to be better than another in any given category. They may flip-flop abilities, pains will ebb and flow but one day it won’t matter and they’ll (hopefully) feel comfortable and confident in their own skin. Sans familial competition.

So, I worry about this club-level-competitive world my husband and I have our children in… are we building their strengths only to see them burn out too young? I like that they aren’t the best, have to try-out and maybe even fail, be benched, told to work harder – but I wish it didn’t have to happen so young. Will they miss the boat if we don’t cave to the competition? Am I strong enough to tell them they might be better at something else? Or does it even really matter…..? We all eventually figure out what we’re good at and then our paths are lit in that direction.

They say people teach what they need to learn. So I write this not intending to have an answer or be a teacher, merely to vent as a parent who thinks it’s all sort of absurd. My kids might be the hare today but next year the tortoise. Either way I guess I’ll just cheer from the sidelines, continue to chauffeur them around, remind them the world doesn’t revolve around them, that all these events are very expensive and to be appreciative. I will continue to yell “keep the cleats, smelly shin guards and balls out of the house!” Then I’ll dry their tears when they fail and let them quit when they are done. There’s a lot more to life. I had my time to compete; now it’s theirs. And theirs alone.