I am watching, for the second time, a coach drive my son away from a sport he loves.
This time, it is basketball, a sport that my son has loved more than anything else over the last four or so years. Yesterday, he told me he doesn't like the sport at all.
I don't believe that, of course. He's 14, and his heart has been broken. Surely, it will be broken a few more times in his lifetime. He'll get over this and be fine. As a matter of fact, I'm sure he'll get over it before I will.
The story isn't special. My son isn't getting the playing time he believes he deserves on the freshman team at our high school. That's certainly not uncommon. Lots of kids, in every sport, and at all levels, think they should play more than they do. Most of them are not as good as they think they are, but sometimes the kids are right, and they really are getting screwed.
My son certainly is.
Yes, he's my son, so it's impossible for me to be objective here. I acknowledge that. But I'm not just any other loving, overprotective dad. I'm a professional sportswriter, which means my job for the last 30-plus years has centered around watching athletes perform, comparing athletes to other athletes, and making judgments based on my observations. So while I can't claim to be totally objective, my professional training and experience allows me to say, confidently, and without qualification, that my son is one of the team's better players.
In the game I saw last week, the team outscored its opponent by 11 points in the time when my son was in the game. Early in the second half, he came in with the team down 11, and when he came out, they were down by one. He came back in the fourth quarter, with the team down four, and came out about a minute later, with the team still down four, and four minutes to play. They lost the game by 12.
The next game, he played about three minutes.
To be sure, he hasn't played a mistake-free season. And he hasn't made every shot he's taken. My wife and I implored him to speak to the coach, face-to-face, and ask what he may be doing wrong, and what he needs to do better. But he's not interested. He's done the mental calculation and has decided it makes more sense to simply check out. At this point, he'll most likely finish the season, and he'll still show up to practice and work hard for the 90 minutes or whatever that he's there. He'll play tough defense when he gets in the game, because that's just who he is. And if he can cut to the basket for a backdoor layup now and again, he'll do that.
But he's no longer emotionally invested in the team. And as far as anything extra, like, "optional shooting practice,'' well, that's over.
Four years ago, it was a junior football coach who drove him away. Looking back on that, my wife and I always believed he'd return to football when he got to high school. And last fall, he did, and I've never seen him happier. He reconnected with friends he'd drifted away from, and by midseason, he was starting at receiver and defensive back on the freshman team. He ended up leading the team in receptions for the season, and his success on the field seemingly vindicated his decision to walk away from the game when he did. A good football experience made everything in his life seem better. He even started getting along with his older brother -- probably for the first time in their lives.
Now he's getting ready to walk away from a second sport. But it's easier this time. As sad, angry and confused as he was -- and my wife and I were -- the last week or so, we're already beginning to look ahead. The good thing about his current situation is that it'll be easier for him to play basketball somewhere next winter than it was to play football three years ago. Next winter, he'll play CYO basketball, or maybe he'll go back to his old club. Basketball will be fun again.
I'm looking forward to that.
