Editor's Note - I received notice there were some technical issues with this blog, which I initially posted earlier this week. In an effort to "open it up" to everyone, I am re-posting. Enjoy!
My friend Ed and I recently had one of our "state of the state" conversations that usually results in one or both of us bemoaning the current status of something.
Or as Gen Z might say about us, "Old Man Shakes Fist at Sky."
The recent email thread focused on modern stage parents in sports (similar to this earlier blog post of mine from spring: Let the Kids Have Fun). His suggestion was that he bet there would be a lot of jockeying for prime spots on uber youth sports teams in the modern era; that parents would jump ship or trade up in that process.
And whereas I wouldn't be surprised if his position is correct, I told him a story about how the very situation happened once before the Choppers even left the field.
The story in question began one winter when I was doing my pre-season check-in with families. I would always call each parent just after the holidays to touch base with them and give an outline of our upcoming schedule (and just to make sure everyone was still on-board).
Usually, the parents and players were all in. But during one such call, that wasn't the case. When he got me on the line, the dad replied "Oh yeah. I've been meaning to call you."
What usually follows that sentence, in the youth baseball coaching world, is somewhat akin to the "I like you as a friend" conversation in the high school dating world. In other words, it doesn't end happily ever after for one party.
This particular player was talented enough but, I always thought, the parents' ambition far out-paced his. And, so the dad began, to help Little Johnny pursue his (their) dream of playing high school baseball, they (parents) felt it was best to position him on a more serious travel team than the Choppers.
In other words, we didn't play enough games. We didn't play the elite tournaments. And, thus, we didn't get Little Johnny in front of the people who would get him onto a high school baseball roster.
I was gracious, of course, and said all the right things. Wished him (them) well.
Fast forward a few months. The Choppers were at practice mid-season and, as usual, the guys were working hard and having fun.
The dad was coaching the player's younger brother at our ballpark on an adjacent field and big brother (Little Johnny, in our story) was just sort of hanging around. Bored. Sad. Missing his buds.
I wondered why the uber team wasn't off practicing somewhere?
In any case, Little Johnny wandered over to our field and saw us practicing. He leaned up against the fence, watching his former teammates play and have fun, and you've never seen such a long face at a place where folks are usually having the time of their lives.
The whole thing made me a little sad, but, what could I do? Wasn't my call (wasn't his call).
Some years later, I heard that the boy eventually achieved his (parents) dream of making a high school baseball roster. And later still, I ran into him as a young adult. He seemed very happy to see me and we caught up about what he was doing, what I had been doing, what Paul was doing and so forth.
But when Ed and I were chatting about the current state of affairs in sports, my mind flashed back to those days.
I hope it turned out well for everyone involved.
JG
No comments:
Post a Comment