DULUTH TO DES MOINES

Friday, mid-morning, and I found myself in the basement lounge of the Dry Dock in Duluth. It was time for the bi-annual meeting of the Great Polar Football Alliance coaches and athletic directors. 20-some, not so lean, not as mean guys from all over north central Minnesota, once again got together to discuss schedules and bylaws, gameday videos and guidelines. It was a good two hour meeting amongst Friday Night Enemies that are otherwise friends. When the meeting was adjourned, I felt recharged. After being drug through an unnecessary gauntlet of truth, rumors and slander earlier this spring, I was happy again to be called “Coach”.

I left Duluth with another level of respect for those men that serve children much in the same manner that I do. I could see it in their faces, hear it in their comments. These guys care about quality high school experiences for the kids under their tutelage. Most parents have no idea of the extent that this caring reaches beyond the general expectations of a high school coaching contract. I’m glad that I get a front seat to see how much someone else can care about my kids.

It is 395 miles down Interstate 35 from Duluth to Des Moines and by supper time Friday night, my family covered that straight stretch like it was our job. We checked into the Ramada Tropics for a weekend of waterslides and “developmental basketball”. You see, Tyler has joined the ranks of thousands of hoopsters pursuing the year-round basketball dream. He plays for the 15U Minnesota Triple Threat, un upstart team dedicated to expanding the basketball skills of kids while expanding their own wallets. Make no mistake about it, my oldest son is part of a well oiled, money making machine. Playing in the Iowa Gym Rat - King of the Court tournament is disguised as an opportunity for young athletes to test their skills against high levels of competition but at the root of the “opportunity” - somebody, somewhere is making a heck of a lot of money!

Jealous? Certainly. I wish I had the sports marketing wherewithall to throw a bracket of 252 teams together into pool play at $400 bucks a registration. My quick 6th grade Math puts that total over the $100,000 mark for a weekend of “pay to play”. Of course, that’s before sponsors, concessions, tshirts, $15 dollar weekend admission, referees, hotels, utilities - I know. I know... there is Business “Risk and Reward” 101 all over this. At the very least, the logistics were impressive. What wasn’t so impressive though was the continual embarrassing display of self-righteous, helicopter parenting. Greed, poor sportsmanship, anger, aggression... Overinflated parental expectations coupled with all of the screaming and yelling made it a less enjoyable experience for my wife and me. We sat back and listened to know-it-all parents question every call and non-call made by officials that I’m sure were doing their best job in games that were happening at lightning speeds.

I watched a guy leave his spectator position amongst the crowd and walk the long way around the court to demand that his son enter the game. Totally demeaning any position of authority that the young coach had over his players that he, no doubt, was doing his best to lead in a hostile situation. “The machine” of the King of the Court tournament when stripped of all of its bells and whistles is just a game played by children - for their enjoyment. At one point during a break in the action, one young man even so much as told his family that he had heard enough out of them. “Coaching” from the sidelines had taken the fun out of it for him.

Michele thinks that each parent should watch a mandatory video on “sportsmanship” when paying admission. Maybe even spend a day or a game serving as a referee or a coach. Very few of those parents are qualified to do either. But they’ve traveled this far. They’ve paid the tuitions of the “developmental programs”. Invested so much of their time and money into “the machine” that they somehow feel justified when demanding the very best out of their kid, every coach, every referee - even if the whole time they’re making a fool of themselves. Yell at the refs. Yell at your kid. Yell at the refs some more and then yell at someone else’s kid. It was embarrassing to sit amongst them. We sat elsewhere when we could.

As a parent of 3 little jocks, I’m worried about what the future holds. If it’s like this from Duluth to Des Moines, is it like this from Boston to Berkley? From Detroit to Dallas? From “Small Town” Tennesse to “Big City” California? Raising good kids is hard enough. Made even harder when they are witness to such poor examples of what good competition should bring. Respect for yourself. Respect for your opponents. Respect for the people serving in supportive roles so you can enjoy the whole experience. I want them to be competitive and driven on their own and I will do my best to give them all of the opportunities in the world. I’m just not so sure I’m ready to sacrifice their innocence in the pursuit of it.

Take a seat, sit back, have a Coke and a smile...enjoy the next game. You paid for it.

(Side note - Tyler was “workman” like for 4 games. Made some mistakes but played hard. He was solid from the free throw line and sealed a big win for his team on Saturday afternoon. We were proud of him this weekend and enjoyed watching him play.)