The Sporting Life* (HOL 100)

House of Laughter 100
Last night I played pool volleyball with a group of men who have played twice a week throughout the summer for years. I played a couple of times earlier in the summer, and generally have a good time. Most of the guys have known each other for years, and a couple of them have college age sons that play as well. I get my hands on the ball a couple of times each game, although I miss as many as I hit.
There are a couple of guys who take the game much more seriously then they need to. I found myself becoming frustrated when I would miss a shot, get unsolicited coaching from another player (i.e. “Don’t go for it if you can’t hit it.” or “You need to hit those.” ), and then watch the “coach” miss the next shot. Just when I get to the place where I enjoy playing for the sake of playing, I’m reminded of why I disliked sports so much as a kid.
I don’t ever recall either of my folks playing a team sport. I went to a couple of Gator football games as a kid, but never really understood the game until high school. My dad lifted weights and jogged, and he tried to get me interested in either, but I never understood the appeal. I couldn’t run fast, I couldn’t catch, I couldn’t throw. I was always picked last or next to last for a team. (There was a handicapped kid in our class. He and I alternated for who got picked last.) I always felt guilty for the person who had mercy on me and picked me earlier or attempted to throw the ball to me. There was no chance I was going to help the team, and therefore his act of pity would invariably bring his teammate’s retribution on him.
My youth soccer coach asked my folks if I was retarded.
I learned early on that if I did my best and pushed as hard as I could, I would still be grossly outperformed by the second slowest kid out on the field.
There were only two times I was athletically successful as a kid and ironically, they reinforced the message that I belonged inside in the air-conditioning playing Atari. I was the Indian leg wrestling champion of my Cub Scout troop. Is it really any surprise that the kid who outweighed everyone else by twenty pounds could easily flip pin all comers? At a county track meet, my elementary school’s tug-of-war team, which I was a member of, easily dominated every other team. A quick glance at our lineup made it clear that Coach Washington didn’t pick this team for its speed and agility.
So the question is, “How do I raise a kid to enjoy physical activity when genetically speaking he has a snowball’s chance in hell of having and ability?” I’m sure he will have other kids and coaches who treat every game of kickball as a gladiatorial death match. I also don’t want him to turn up his nose at all sports as a distraction and waste of time. I want to instill in him a desire to win, but a greater desire to enjoy playing.
My friend Scott (a sports fanatic and former athlete known for his cat-like agility) assures me that we are on the right track. Isaac enjoys watching Grasshopper baseball and Panther and Gator football. He really enjoys it when I tie a ball to a string in a tree and let him hit it with his bat. I’m surprised at ho well he can throw a Frisbee. He loves to go outside and catch and throw a football. We’ve taken him to play golf a couple of times (mini and par three.)
After writing and then reading the last paragraph, I actually feel like we are doing a pretty good job on this front after all. Still if he has no athletic skills at all, he will at least get a little exercise playing Wii.

Strength and Honor,

Big Matt