Playing the Field

June 17, 2019

Weekends spent at the field have been a common occurrence for us for about 12 years.  We have had children involved in everything from football and cheerleading to softball and baseball.  It is a part of growing up.  Sometimes driven by the child.  But often driven by the parents as they assist their children in the search for their “passion”.  It is funny to watch how each of my own children have played their part in these sports.   Of my 3 children who have been or are at the youth program age, I have had the child who does it for the fun of it, a child who is extremely competitive and a child who just loves the game – no matter what that game is. 

Admittedly, there have only been a couple activities that Rich and I have taken on the role as coach for.  And both of times we did, it was by default.  It’s just not our thing.   Honestly, I think it would have been something I enjoyed had it not been for my first experience coaching youth cheerleading for 5-8-year old’s.  This was when I was accused of encouraging bullying among young girls and was threatened by an angry grandmother, who claimed she was looking into legal advisement against me and the organization.  Say what?! 

It all started in June of 2011.  I had recently signed my oldest up for the pee wee football team – his first year.  I admit, I was excited about this.  He was playing for the same team I cheered for when I was younger and a lot of the parents involved were those who were in the program with me as a kid.  Gloucester truly is small town USA.  I had just had my 3rd child, and I mean literally just had Jackson, when I received a Facebook message (while in my hospital bed) asking me to coach the D team cheer squad.  Mind you, Malia wasn’t even old enough to cheer but if I agreed they would allow her to be the mascot on my team.  I was hesitant to commit knowing I would be towing an infant to the field a few times a week, but was promised helpers to allow me to tend to my baby when needed.  Two months later, I strapped on the Baby Bjorn and began practicing with my girls. 

To be honest, most of the season I really enjoyed being there and being a part of the organization.  Most of the girls on my team were Jacob’s age and I knew them from his classes.  There was some pressure from parents to do things differently but I did the best I could having never done it before, toting a newborn and having a daughter who was not as interested in cheerleading as I had initially thought she would be. 

There was one girl that I only knew by name on the team (let’s call her June).  June appeared miserable at every practice and throughout the game she would fall out of line, hang on the ropes along the sideline and constantly ask for snacks.  It was frustrating and to me it appeared to be a disciplinary issue.  She was often absent from practices but when she did come, she was brought by her grandmother and occasionally her mom.  In retrospect, there was obviously something else going on but no one ever told me.  No one told me she was having trouble with friends and actually threatening to harm herself.  No one told me her sensory issue required her to have that snack she kept asking for.  No one told me that some of the girls on the team were giving her a hard time.  I was a young, naïve, preoccupied mother who had envisioned the job of volunteer parent to be nothing short of rainbows and butterflies.  In my mind, these girls would look up to me as a cool mom and would look back on the time Miss Erika coached with fond memories.  Better yet, I had visions of coaching these girls straight up through adolescence and they would have tears in their eyes as we made our final good bye before high school.  I was so determined that this vision would be true that at the end of the final game I encouraged the girls to all come together for a group hug – leaving them with that warm and fuzzy feeling of a great season together.  I did not see the one girl that stood off to the side in tears.  I was too wrapped up in the moment, I thought I was creating.  I did not see past my own rose-colored glasses of what I wanted to get out of the experience as a coach.  However, to her loved ones they only saw their daughter/granddaughter standing by herself and me surrounded by the girls that had hurt her.

When I first got that call from June’s grandmother, I was shocked and defensive.  Because June’s feelings were so far from what I wanted for these girls and such a contrast to how I envisioned the end of season, I was angry this woman was accusing me of such things.  Horrified that I may have contributed to June’s misery.  And incredibly sad for what she and those who loved her were going through. 

Fast forward 7 years, Jackson is now the one taking the field.  Jackson is my athlete.  He loves the game – any game.  When he is playing a sport, whether it is soccer or football, he throws himself into learning everything there is to know about it.  He watches games and highlights on TV, he tosses or kicks a ball around the house endlessly and he counts the days until he is back on the field.  When on the sideline, he actually watches his team mates play the game and doesn’t screw around with the other players on the bench.  He cheers for accomplishments and encourages his friends.  It is really fun to watch. 

Last year, he was pulled onto a flag football team because his best friend was on the team.  This friend’s dad also happened to be one of the coaches on the team.  This team was made up of all the best athletes in 1st and 2nd grades.  I heard the word “stacked” in reference to our team throughout the season.  They blew every team away and of course a handful of players outshined the others.  To nobody’s surprise, the team made it to elimination day.  It was a cold, rainy New England spring day.  The teams played as hard as they could through the pouring rain while the dedicated parents stood huddled on the sideline.  It was during the championship game that Rich, my sister, my mom and I watched Jackson stand in the cold rain on the sideline for the entire hour, only to be put into the game during the last play.  Now I know he wasn’t the only kid that didn’t play that game but he was the only one I had my eyes on.  My Jackson followed the game play by play staying close to the coach hoping to be put in.  He enthusiastically would run to hand the ball to the official even though he wasn’t playing – like he was the team ball boy.  He asked the coaches when he could go in but just kept being brushed off with a “soon buddy, soon”.  My heart broke.  The team won and received the “Superbowl ring”, which was great and they loved it but the way the game was handled left a horrible feeling in our gut.  Not all kids would notice they didn’t play, but I knew Jackson would.

Rich, my husband who never get in confrontations, went right to the coaches and told them how upset he was at how they ran the game.  He did not wait until the celebration was over.  He told them right then and there amidst the celebration that it was wrong.  The confrontation actually got to a boiling point where the coach started shouting at Rich in front of the kids and parents that our kids had to “do his time” just like every other kid (remember, these kids are 7 and 8 years old).  We were all livid leaving that game but we did not let Jackson see it.  We looked at his trophy ring with awe and congratulated him.  He didn’t hear the Rich’s interaction with the coach and I was thankful for that.  However, when tucking him in at night he asked me why he didn’t play.  The lesson of “doing your time” was not one I was going to share with my son who will eventually be in the position of coaching.   I made excuses for the coaches.  I told Jackson that the coaches were just wrapped up in the game and lost track of time.  I reminded him of the amazing extra point run he made in the playoff game.  I told him how I watched him on the sideline and was so proud to see him cheering on his teammates.  I told him to just keep doing what he is doing because I was proud of the athlete he was.  But inside I was cursing the decisions by the coaches.  They were teaching my son a lesson that I did not agree with and he felt it.  In turn, they took something from the team’s success from him.  And sure enough, when soccer season came around Jackson and I were talking about working hard and how he was placed on a team with more experienced players so he shouldn’t get discouraged and just work that much harder to learn from them.  My 8-year old’s response was “yeah, and so I get time on the field during a game”.  Grrrr.  That one game left something with him.  But there is a part of me that can relate to the coaches.  I too got caught up in the game and did not observe what may have been happening around me. 

I wish they would have told me about June’s condition.  I wish they had told me they signed her up to find something for her to be a part of – included in.  I wish they had warned me that she felt like she was being bullied by the other girls.  But I also totally understand why they didn’t.  When you want so much for your child to be a part of a team or a group, the last thing you want to do is single them out and make them seem different from the others.  But what if…

I am glad Rich took the initiative to call the coaches out.  Maybe they too can reflect on their actions and see how they could’ve run the game differently.  Maybe if they weren’t thinking of the end result of winning that game and instead thought about how their actions would be taken from the kids who did not have the chance to play.

The new football season has started and to no one’s surprise, Jackson is on a different team this season.  And low and behold, he is shining on the field.  His new coach has called him the golden boy – everything he throws at him turns to gold.  With each game, his love for the sport grows and the camaraderie between this new group of boys is fun to watch. 

It is hard to take on the role of coach.  There will always be someone judging how you have chosen to run your team.  Parents will offer suggestions and will accuse you of favoritism – the input not always in the best taste.  It takes a lot of commitment and time – which as parents we are all short of.  And that lesson of “doing your time” is definitely valid… when you are older.  Me, wanting these girls to find some kind of role model in me would come in time, especially if I am teaching them to be inclusive.  Right now, these kids are learning who they are and what they love.  Alienating them (whether intention or unintentional) will not make them better at what they do. 

As volunteers, whether in school or on the field, we need to look out for the kid off to the side anxiously waiting to be noticed.  When we notice these kids, we will make the biggest impact on their young lives.

Share This