Youth Sports (2000)

(written for the NUMB News, Oct. 2000)
Organized baseball was far less organized when we were kids. Our games were in the morning or afternoon. Our team uniform was a cap. We wore short pants and gym shoes. Transportation to and from the field was your bike. Our coach was a 15 year old kid and we considered him a grown-up. Parents were conspicuous by their absence. Today, kids' ball games start at 6 or 7 p.m., so mom and dad can drive Junior to the field, and coach his team, and cheer and holler and provide "encouragement". Junior wears a cap and a jersey and real baseball pants with stirrups and cleats. He has a batting glove, maybe two. Foul ground is covered by partisan parents in lawn chairs, shouting out "Let's go, Junior! Level swing, Junior! Get a hit, Junior!" My, how things have changed.

This summer, John's coach-pitch team made it to their league championship game. So many parents and siblings showed up, they could have installed bleachers. And it was a good and interesting game -- very close, back and forth, and ultimately extra-innings, where John's team lost. The winning kids rolled in the dirt and celebrated like maniacs, while the losers . . . cried! Didn't expect that. I was suddenly filled with embarrassment -- not for the kids, but for all of us "supportive" parents whose well-meaning intentions had created unintended consequences. Of course, ten minutes later all was forgotten in a happy slurp-fest of Cokes and snowcones. But still!

I therefore propose, from my lofty perch as Commissioner Of The Universe, that henceforth all youth sports leagues be parent-free. Mom and Dad, go away! Just drop 'em off and pick 'em up when it's over. "So how was your game, Junior?" "Good, Dad." "That's nice." End of story.