Landon’s team, well, bless their little hearts.  Last year they were ranked in a division that was too easy for them and they won all their games handily.  Like, by 20 or 30 points a game.  And while it’s always more fun to win ………. well ………. even winning can get old when its handed to you on a platter.  Plus, do you really learn anything when you rout every team you play?  So this year his team got bumped up, but perhaps a division too high.  They were on the opposite end of the routing spectrum, and got soundly thumped, pretty much all season.  Equally not as fun.

For the end of the season tournament, Kellen’s team got bumped up one division, and Landon’s team got placed down one division, and guess what?  As was probably inevitable, the boys wound up playing one another.  And if I might say so, having a jolly good time doing it.  Several of the boys on Kellen’s team, and all the boys on Landon’s team, go to school together.  It was a hoot to watch them smack-talking one another across the court, with grins on their faces the whole time.  Don’t get me wrong, both teams played to win, and it was one heck of a good game, but it was played in good spirits.  Hands extended to help up players on the other team, slaps on the back for the opposing team, and parents in the stands rooting for both sides.  Really, if every game, in every sport in the land could be played like that one, there would be a lot more kids, happy to play youth sports, and a lot less reports of parents going after one another with fisticuffs in the parking lot.

“Get out of my way, cuz …..”

“Oh, yeah?  You’re going down …..”

Except that clearly, Landon understands the concept of the block-out better than Kellen does.

“So you really think you’re man enough to guard me?”

“Oh, I KNOW I’m man enough ….”

Except notice they are both smiling the entire time …..

“I’m taller.”

“So?  I’m tougher.”

“I told you, I’m going to guard you.  Get used to it.”

“Really?  ‘Cause where I’m from, we call this dancing.”

“Well if you insist on dancing, then I’m going to lead.”

“No, *I* get to lead, I’m taller.”

“Who cares?  I’m older!”

“By a measly six weeks!!”

“Fine, then I’ll just grab your shirt and hang on and there’s nothing you can do about it.”

“I will slap you like the girly-girl I am, you just watch.”

“You know, this is an awful lot like how we play basketball in your driveway.”

And they still smiled, the entire time.

And the dance starts again.

For the record, Landon’s team was ahead.  And then Kellen’s team was ahead.  And then Landon’s team was ahead.  And wound up winning by three points.  Although I should probably never be glad that my son’s team lost, I must confess, I was.  Because now my nephew’s team advances forward in the tournament, and must play again on Friday a team they played last week.  A team that played so rough, and so ugly, that one of the boys on the other team not only fouled out, but was EJECTED from the game.  What kind of eleven year old gets EJECTED from a basketball game … and not only that, but with the encouragement of his parents in the stands???  As punishment, he was forced to sit out the first game of this tournament, and will be coming back for the first time, to face my nephew’s team again.   Honestly, Kellen’s team has had such a great time, that is NOT how I’d want to end the season.

I am perfectly happy to move on in the lower bracket.  Because guess what?  The team we are playing later this week, also has boys from our school on it.  Boys who stayed to watch part of our game last night, and were cheering and razzing both sides equally, in good humor.  Something tells me that game will be almost as fun as this one was.

And I’m reminded, once again, of the reason we moved home.

Not the best picture, but happy to be cousins, nonetheless.

Dear Sir,

Shut the hell up.

If you want to coach, and yell at the players, then might I recommend you actually BE a coach.  I can guarantee you that rec leagues and youth leagues all over are constantly in need of parent coaches.  Yes, there is a time commitment, and you must possess a willingness to work with children, but the benefits are endless.  Shaping lives, shaping minds, the joy and satisfaction of crafting individuals into a team ….  I bet if you played your cards right, you could even get the league to throw in a whistle and matching beanie.  

But until such time as you are willing to actually BE a coach, then sit down and shut the hell up.  No one wants to hear you coaching from the stands.  If you know so damn much, get down there and do it yourself. 

Additionally, it stresses all of us out when you are telling your son to do something different than what his actual coach is telling him to do.  You are yelling at him from one side of the gym, and his coach is yelling at him from the other.  The poor kid is going to have a stroke.  Let me remind you that in organized sports, coaches trump parents.  So put up and help, or shut up.

Same goes for pacing the sidelines, and bad mouthing the refs.  If you know so damn much, get out there and spend some time as a referee.

Additionally, I don’t understand what kind of adult finds it necessary to clap and cheer when the opposing team misses a free throw, but for goodness sake, they are eleven years old.  Not NBA players …. jeering from the stands shouldn’t be allowed until the players are being paid for their sport.

So again, let me just tell you, to shut the hell up.

And one other note about sportsmanship —- when your son’s team is down by one, in overtime, with only a few seconds left, and we have the ball, we all understand the need for an intentional foul.  We all heard your coach call for it …. we all expected it.  Your son, actually, reached around, and very effectively, without malice or intent to harm, successfully fouled.  Instead of hollering encouragement to him, for doing exactly what the coach had asked, you found it necessary to yell loud enough for the entire gym to hear:  “By God, if you’re going to foul, make it worth your time — foul him hard!!!”

Really?  Was that really necessary???  What kind of young man are you raising, anyway?

Yes, in case you weren’t sure, when I looked behind me and mouthed the words, “What a jackass!“, I actually WAS looking at you.

And just so you know, when my son’s team beat your son’s team by one point in overtime, and I did my little fist pump of victory in the air, it wasn’t because I was so happy your son’s team lost.  In all honesty, it was a very good game … played fairly, by two evenly matched teams.  I was just happy that WE beat YOU.

So shut up and don’t come back until you can keep your fat yap shut, and set a better example for your son and his team mates.  Because something tells me this wasn’t a one-off for you, and I can only imagine how the other parents on your team must feel about you, week after week.

Toodles!!  And best wishes to your son, who truly did have a great game, in SPITE of you.

Kristie

But just so you know the level to which this lousy bit of refereeing extended, let me tell you, it was bad. It was so bad, that a few of our kids refused to play the second half, our coach threatened to forfeit the game if they couldn’t call the fouls more fairly, and even someone as “basketball-rule-challenged” as myself noticed the discrepancies. The other team had a player that was mentally and developmentally challenged, and the referees replied that they had to be lenient because he wasn’t capable of following the rules to the letter. That’s fine, but what about the other seven boys on the team who were allowed to elbow and shove and reach over the back and kick? (Yes, Kellen was actually kicked on purpose, after which point he told the coach he didn’t want to play any more and asked to sit on the bench the rest of the game. Charles Darwin would be so proud.)

The boys on our team were frustrated, and upset, and one boy got so angry his parents had to take him out of the gym. Anyway, all that to tell you it was pretty bad.

For someone who doesn’t like parents who whine, I just did a really good job of it, didn’t I?

Anyway, after the game, the parents and coaches on our team were talking to the players about what had happened, and trying to appropriately praise the boys who had handled this situation in the calmest, most mature manner. Sometimes in life things just aren’t fair, and it’s not your fault, and there’s not a lot you can do about it but control your own reaction ….. and this was one of those times.

In the van on the way home, I wanted to re-affirm what the coach had said, and Kellen and I had the following conversation:

Me: “I agreed with the coach that you handled the game well, Kellen, and I was proud of you.”

Kellen: “What do you mean?”

Me: “Well, I understand that even more than losing, plain and simple, that game just wasn’t any fun. It’s frustrating when the other team is getting away with things and it doesn’t seem fair. But you didn’t act ugly back, right?”

Kellen: “What do you mean, act ugly?”

Me: “Well, you didn’t kick anyone back, or push, or shove, right?”

Kellen: “No.”

Me: “And you didn’t elbow anyone, or get mad and call anyone names or anything, right?”

Kellen: “No”

Me: “So see? You didn’t do anything wrong, did you?”

{pause……………………}

Kellen: “You know at the end of the game? How we have to walk down the line and slap all the hands of the other players and say ‘good game’ ?”

Me: “Yes…..”

Kellen: “I licked my hand first.”