Warming Up the Bench

Every night an ugly scene plays out all across the great nation. It's a battle between a coach of a sport and the kid sitting on the bench and the parents who had banked on their little athlete to do some damage.

You know, turn pro, against all odds, and take Mommy and Daddy with them when they move into the mansion.

I've been on all sides of this issue.

I sat on the bench a bit...a lot in soccer where I was happy to be on the bench because I didn't much care for running after a ball that would be rolling by again shortly...and a little in basketball, particularly freshman year when my coach tired of me shooting and I saw little sense in passing it to my worthless teammates.

In fact, during that freshman year we were getting trounced by a team and I never saw the hardwood. I had company on the bench though as the class bully had also grown out of favor with the coach. Yet the coach had no idea who he was messing with.

Down 75 to 23 with a little over three minutes to go the coach actually called out our names. My bully buddy didn't budge.

"Get in the game!" the coach screamed at the bully.

"%^&K you, you go," the bully yelled back, ripping off his jersey and throwing it at the coach.

I laughed so hard I fell off the bench.

And it's difficult because there is a line there.

As a coach I tried to make the best decisions. I got called by a few parents. When I coached softball I was actually dressed down by a few wives. Everyone wants to play, everyone deserves to hit clean up, nobody likes to lose.

I've had a real hands off deal with my boys.

I want them to enjoy the game. I know that they most likely won't star for the Yankees or the Chicago Bulls or the Buffalo Sabres.

Learn a little, make some friends, try your best, don't rip off your jersey and throw it at the coach unless he deserves it, I guess.

Of course, there's no better feeling than watching your son or daughter accomplish something on the field or court, but it shouldn't be how they are valued.

Ever.

Whether they are the best or the worst.

It's a game.

It's not worth their self-esteem. It isn't worth showing them that arguing will get them what they want.

Perhaps it was that long night I spent on that bench freshman year, but I recall looking up at that scoreboard, embarrassed to be the guy sitting on the bench on such a lousy team, wondering why the coach hated me.

You know, not one guy from either team made a nickel with their ball skills. In fact, the MVP of that very night was the kid who waded up his jersey and lofted the F-bomb at the coach...

...he didn't go in the game to be embarrassed. Maybe he didn't handle it the best, but he taught me a lesson for sure:

Don't lose yourself in the stupid game.