Tales from the Sports Crypt
Posted: Tue Mar 31, 2009 1:34 pm
As many of you might have read in another post, I actually have had moderate exposure to sports at a young age and sports at an adult age. I have a few tales to tell, but I'm not going to share them all in one post, it would take too long to write and even longer for you to read.
I was on a private little league soccer team when I was 9. I joined because my next door neighbor, who was my age and whom I had been playing with for years since I was 5, was doing it. Not knowing the rules of what peer pressure could get you into, I let him convince me that we could both each have a trophy at the end of the season if we won.
It wound up being nonsense. The coach was incompetent, and a drunk, he made me a full back (which for those who are not familiar with soccer, fullbacks are the defensive positions on the field that prevent the front line guys from the other team from reaching the goalie...insert your yawn here at the explanation
).
Being a fullback was pretty damn boring. Half of the time, the ball wasn't on your side of the field, the forwards were trying to get it to the goal. But when the ball did come your way, the forwards and half backs got in your way, not really allowing you to try and do much.
So, half the time when the ball was on the other side of the field and I had nothing to do, my mind wandered. It wandered, of course, to the things I loved to do at home. The things I'd rather be doing than freezing my ass off early on a Saturday morning playing with these kids I barely knew. Like riding my bike. Or building a model ship. Playing against my Dad's computer chess game. Playing outside with my friends.
These games went on for about four months, it was a short season, thankfully. We lost every game we played. Sometimes I was blamed for a lost play, sometimes I wasn't. The only game we didn't lose, we tied, and in that game the coach kept me on the sidelines the entire game. I'm quite sure without any doubt, that these very same parents were and are the same types that will yell at a sporting event on TV.
I remember I used to try and get the team to just joke around that we should call ourselves the losing team, because I had humility, and suggested that we might as well accept that. Even as a kid, I knew that if we had nothing to lose by thinking that, then we might at least enjoy the season and the game better. Well, one of the observational parents, a mother, overheard me say that one day, and ripped my head off for promoting such an idea.
This was about midway through the season. I decided, then and there, that it wasn't even about whether we won or lost anymore, that I simply couldn't cope with the horrible attitudes of others in little league sports. I've stated this before in one or two posts... the overzealous types always manage to make something competitive extremely unfun. They have the ability to suck the fun right out of it.
There were other parents who acted similarly, though they were more stereotypical in nature. Standing by the sidelines, yelling every verbal command to their kid to get the winning play, and screaming their discontent when any kid screwed up (including at me).
My father, who did not raise me on sports (except the annoying NASCAR), made me finish the season, though. He has a similar viewpoint as I do when it comes to sports, but he was determined to teach me a lesson that time. The lesson was, "Hey, I paid for this so you could play. You're going to finish what you started, because I can't get my money back."
Ah, the lessons we are taught as children.
Epilogue: I went back to school after the season was over, and there were about 5 kids kicking the ball around from the school soccer team, and they invited me in (more like teased me in, "Hey, I bet you can't take the ball away from me.").
Immediately I realized that I did actually learn how to play soccer during that time, and oddly, I don't know what our P.E. coach had been teaching the kids at school, but I had actually learned a skill, because I was taking the ball away from these losers left and right. After about 15 minutes of this, a few of them were starting to get mad at me, and told me to just go away, and a few threatened to kick my ass if I didn't. Damned if you do and damned if you don't.
Same exact kids that would tease me in P.E. One would think that I would have become confident at that point that I could play sports, and keep going with soccer after that.
But I didn't keep going, nor did I ever join another little league team again, nor was I even remotely interested. Yet, I WAS confident in my soccer abilities after that, although I still hated sports more than ever, and realized that confidence or not, my hatred of a thing made that thing worthless to me.
Again, why? Attitude. Intolerance. Zealotry.
It's being taught to our children to this day, when they are taught professional sports in P.E.
I was on a private little league soccer team when I was 9. I joined because my next door neighbor, who was my age and whom I had been playing with for years since I was 5, was doing it. Not knowing the rules of what peer pressure could get you into, I let him convince me that we could both each have a trophy at the end of the season if we won.
It wound up being nonsense. The coach was incompetent, and a drunk, he made me a full back (which for those who are not familiar with soccer, fullbacks are the defensive positions on the field that prevent the front line guys from the other team from reaching the goalie...insert your yawn here at the explanation

Being a fullback was pretty damn boring. Half of the time, the ball wasn't on your side of the field, the forwards were trying to get it to the goal. But when the ball did come your way, the forwards and half backs got in your way, not really allowing you to try and do much.
So, half the time when the ball was on the other side of the field and I had nothing to do, my mind wandered. It wandered, of course, to the things I loved to do at home. The things I'd rather be doing than freezing my ass off early on a Saturday morning playing with these kids I barely knew. Like riding my bike. Or building a model ship. Playing against my Dad's computer chess game. Playing outside with my friends.
These games went on for about four months, it was a short season, thankfully. We lost every game we played. Sometimes I was blamed for a lost play, sometimes I wasn't. The only game we didn't lose, we tied, and in that game the coach kept me on the sidelines the entire game. I'm quite sure without any doubt, that these very same parents were and are the same types that will yell at a sporting event on TV.
I remember I used to try and get the team to just joke around that we should call ourselves the losing team, because I had humility, and suggested that we might as well accept that. Even as a kid, I knew that if we had nothing to lose by thinking that, then we might at least enjoy the season and the game better. Well, one of the observational parents, a mother, overheard me say that one day, and ripped my head off for promoting such an idea.
This was about midway through the season. I decided, then and there, that it wasn't even about whether we won or lost anymore, that I simply couldn't cope with the horrible attitudes of others in little league sports. I've stated this before in one or two posts... the overzealous types always manage to make something competitive extremely unfun. They have the ability to suck the fun right out of it.
There were other parents who acted similarly, though they were more stereotypical in nature. Standing by the sidelines, yelling every verbal command to their kid to get the winning play, and screaming their discontent when any kid screwed up (including at me).
My father, who did not raise me on sports (except the annoying NASCAR), made me finish the season, though. He has a similar viewpoint as I do when it comes to sports, but he was determined to teach me a lesson that time. The lesson was, "Hey, I paid for this so you could play. You're going to finish what you started, because I can't get my money back."
Ah, the lessons we are taught as children.
Epilogue: I went back to school after the season was over, and there were about 5 kids kicking the ball around from the school soccer team, and they invited me in (more like teased me in, "Hey, I bet you can't take the ball away from me.").
Immediately I realized that I did actually learn how to play soccer during that time, and oddly, I don't know what our P.E. coach had been teaching the kids at school, but I had actually learned a skill, because I was taking the ball away from these losers left and right. After about 15 minutes of this, a few of them were starting to get mad at me, and told me to just go away, and a few threatened to kick my ass if I didn't. Damned if you do and damned if you don't.
Same exact kids that would tease me in P.E. One would think that I would have become confident at that point that I could play sports, and keep going with soccer after that.
But I didn't keep going, nor did I ever join another little league team again, nor was I even remotely interested. Yet, I WAS confident in my soccer abilities after that, although I still hated sports more than ever, and realized that confidence or not, my hatred of a thing made that thing worthless to me.
Again, why? Attitude. Intolerance. Zealotry.
It's being taught to our children to this day, when they are taught professional sports in P.E.