It's been a really good few months for our family, especially as it regards the kids' sporting events. The latest highlight came earlier this week, when our middle son accepted an offer to play college lacrosse at a nearby Division II school. The quest to play a sport in college did not go the way we expected it to, but, for him -- and our family -- it ultimately worked out great.
Our son was always a really good athlete. Twenty months younger than his older brother, our second son learned much from playing with his brother and his brother's friends when they were little. He always seemed prepared for every next step -- whether it was Preschool, or Kindergarten; Tee ball, or PeeWee football; middle school, high school, etc. -- because he had watched, from up close, his brother going through every event. And he knew, going in, what to expect when it was his turn.
Anyway, his mother and I knew, from the first summer we saw him play club lacrosse, that he would be good enough to play in college if everything played out normally. As a 12 year-old going to tournaments, we knew the kids he was playing with and against were going to be the ones who would be playing college in a few years. So when we saw him keeping up with them, and even excelling, we knew that as long as he grew normally, didn't suffer any catastrophic injuries, and didn't somehow lose his love for the game, he could play beyond high school.
He was always a key player on his club teams, and he performed well at whatever Prospect Days and showcases we took him to. But he was never big for his age, or super fast. And as such, he was never the kind of kid who jumped out at you the instant you watched a game. He was always more of a smart player who did a bunch of little things that helped the team, but might go unnoticed by the casual observer. He kind of needed to be seen over time to be appreciated.
We did all the things we were supposed to -- identifying schools we thought he might be interested in, and emailing those coaches early in his high school career, to get him on their radar. He went to those schools' Prospect Days. But the one coach who genuinely seemed interested in learning about him early ended up leaving the school suddenly -- for reasons we never found out. The new coach at that school was polite, but never seemed truly interested. And neither, it turned out, were the coaches at other schools we targeted.
What we came to realize, almost too late, was that the whole thing is a lot harder if your child has a specialty major, one that isn't offered at every school. He would have had lots of options if he intended to major in Liberal Arts or Business, probably. Engineering, though, turned out to be trickier. It seemed the schools that liked him as a player didn't offer his major; and the schools that did offer his major had their pick of a lot of kids, just like him. For them, it was a supply-and-demand thing.
A couple months ago, I ran into the dad of one of his classmates who had discovered the same problem we had. His son was a baseball player who, like my son, wanted to study engineering. But despite being a good player on high-level club teams that went to top-end showcase tournaments, and despite performing well to all these big-time individual showcase events, finding a place where he could get the education he wanted, and play baseball, was proving difficult.
A few weeks ago I ran into the dad's son. He said he had zeroed in on an excellent school a few hours away, but when he realized there were going to be eight players at his position (he's a catcher) he gave up the chase. His plan now is to go to a big school, and maybe play club baseball there.
My son was luckier. In chatting with the father of one of his club teammates at the last tournament this summer, I learned that father had gone to a well-respected engineering school nearby that hadn't been on my son's original list. Part of the reason we didn't consider it was that it was a Division II school, and we had been focusing more on the Division III level. Anyway, my son sent them a highlight video from the summer and they liked it and responded immediately. We struck up a dialogue and, long story short, they turned out to be very interested and ultimately offered him a spot on their team.
So all's well that ends well. It for sure ended well for him. But it certainly wasn't easy.
Thursday, December 12, 2019
Tuesday, July 30, 2019
Youth coaches: Do your best to keep the kids in the game
My wife and I like to joke with people that we must be the only two parents in America who actually want their kid to play football, even if he doesn't want to.
These days, participation in youth and high school football is down, in large part because parents -- rightfully -- are concerned with the relatively high risk of injury for football players, especially the risk of concussions. Now, the reason my wife and I are OK with our kids playing football is not because we aren't concerned with our kids' health and safety; it's just that we both believe that the rewards of playing football -- the life lessons the game teaches, the friendships the kids make, and the fun they have -- are greater for most than the risk of injury.
Our three sons all played youth football, and our middle son still plays in high school. He's about to start senior year and plays both offense and defense for our high school team. Our youngest son is set to enter high school as a freshman, and, after not playing football for a few years, has toyed with the idea of possibly returning to the game in high school. He's brought it up a couple separate times, and debated the idea with himself. When he does, my wife and I, and his brother, all try to talk him into playing. So far, we've been unsuccessful.
Why is it so important to us that our son play football? It's not that we're such devotees of football; it's that we want to make sure that if he doesn't want to play anymore, it's for the right reasons. You see, when he made the decision to quit the game, it wasn't because he'd gotten hurt, or had somehow lost his love of the sport, or anything like that. No, it was a coach who drove him away.
He so loved football when he was younger, but when he got to the fifth grade, he had a coach who was simply consumed by winning. If this guy didn't think a kid could help him win, then that kid meant nothing to him. Our son was moderately athletic, but small, with probably only average speed. He was never going to play in the "A" games, but he didn't play in the "B" games, either. Worse, the coach was so focused on winning that he devoted all his practice time to the kids who played the most in the games. That meant the kids who weren't going to play in the games didn't even get to practice. They just stood around and watched every night. Mental reps, they call it in the NFL.
When you coach 10- and 11-year-olds, though, the job is different. You have to balance the desire to win with the need to keep kids engaged and to develop all their knowledge and skills, because kids all grow differently -- at different times, and different rates. And sometimes, the smallest kid in the sixth grade ends up being one of the bigger kids in the ninth grade. Oftentimes, the stars of the PeeWee team aren't stars in high school. And those kids who were smaller and weaker and who just played to be on the team and have fun end up being the best players on the varsity. When you're coaching at the youth level, winning should be a happy byproduct of good coaching and talent; it shouldn't be the thing that drives how a coach operates.
Our son has gotten along just fine without football over the last few years. He's given his heart to basketball, and the sport has been good to him. He's made wonderful friends and he's made himself into a very good basketball player. He's a good lacrosse player, too. And he's grown. He's not small anymore. The high school coach would love to have him, but it looks like he won't. If he doesn't, it'll be largely because of a youth coach who never understood the job.
These days, participation in youth and high school football is down, in large part because parents -- rightfully -- are concerned with the relatively high risk of injury for football players, especially the risk of concussions. Now, the reason my wife and I are OK with our kids playing football is not because we aren't concerned with our kids' health and safety; it's just that we both believe that the rewards of playing football -- the life lessons the game teaches, the friendships the kids make, and the fun they have -- are greater for most than the risk of injury.
Our three sons all played youth football, and our middle son still plays in high school. He's about to start senior year and plays both offense and defense for our high school team. Our youngest son is set to enter high school as a freshman, and, after not playing football for a few years, has toyed with the idea of possibly returning to the game in high school. He's brought it up a couple separate times, and debated the idea with himself. When he does, my wife and I, and his brother, all try to talk him into playing. So far, we've been unsuccessful.
Why is it so important to us that our son play football? It's not that we're such devotees of football; it's that we want to make sure that if he doesn't want to play anymore, it's for the right reasons. You see, when he made the decision to quit the game, it wasn't because he'd gotten hurt, or had somehow lost his love of the sport, or anything like that. No, it was a coach who drove him away.
He so loved football when he was younger, but when he got to the fifth grade, he had a coach who was simply consumed by winning. If this guy didn't think a kid could help him win, then that kid meant nothing to him. Our son was moderately athletic, but small, with probably only average speed. He was never going to play in the "A" games, but he didn't play in the "B" games, either. Worse, the coach was so focused on winning that he devoted all his practice time to the kids who played the most in the games. That meant the kids who weren't going to play in the games didn't even get to practice. They just stood around and watched every night. Mental reps, they call it in the NFL.
When you coach 10- and 11-year-olds, though, the job is different. You have to balance the desire to win with the need to keep kids engaged and to develop all their knowledge and skills, because kids all grow differently -- at different times, and different rates. And sometimes, the smallest kid in the sixth grade ends up being one of the bigger kids in the ninth grade. Oftentimes, the stars of the PeeWee team aren't stars in high school. And those kids who were smaller and weaker and who just played to be on the team and have fun end up being the best players on the varsity. When you're coaching at the youth level, winning should be a happy byproduct of good coaching and talent; it shouldn't be the thing that drives how a coach operates.
Our son has gotten along just fine without football over the last few years. He's given his heart to basketball, and the sport has been good to him. He's made wonderful friends and he's made himself into a very good basketball player. He's a good lacrosse player, too. And he's grown. He's not small anymore. The high school coach would love to have him, but it looks like he won't. If he doesn't, it'll be largely because of a youth coach who never understood the job.
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