Briefly/Elaborately

It is very late. We played a double-header for the championship. Then I waited 90 minutes for Two to be done with play practice. We just finished his homework. I am tired and want to go to bed, so this is the best I can do.

WE WON!!!

I promise a better post tomorrow.

Okay, it's tomorrow.

I was going to leave the post as-is, but I wanted to write about what happened yesterday. Not the statistical details; rather, the emotional ones.

The Captain began his day by writing to the head coach of the opposing team. I could paraphrase, but I'll just transcribe:

"A mildly unorthodox request. I'd like 30 seconds to address both teams before tonight's game if you'll give me the courtesy.
No hidden agenda or secret strategy.
I'd like to tell them both how terrific they have played to get this far.
I want to say the team that played better (and perhaps the better team) won the game last night.
That the coaches or refs are not going to win or lose the game for them.
They should be proud of how much they've accomplished. That winning is important, but that winning with sportsmanship is more important.
They are not playing against Randolph or Roxbury - but against their own friends and classmates.
That if the white team wins I can't wait to congratulate them and if we win - can't wait to play game 3.
Anyway - it's what I am going to say to my group. Just to go out, have fun, play hard, and most importantly treat each other with respect."

The opposing coach declined the Captain's offer to speak, but that's what he told Three's team, anyway.

The assistant coach for the "white team", was working in Three's school yesterday. We see him often at sporting events. He's a nice guy. He took a moment to talk to Three about how his own son used to get upset, like Three, when the game got frustrating. Three says he told him, "If you can let all that emotion roll off you, not let it upset you, then you're going to beat us. You're a great player, and when you learn to control your feelings, you're going to be even better." It gave Three a boost, and it was a nice example of good coaching.

For the most part, I think dads become coaches to help their own children. But if you stay a coach, it is because you want to help all the children. It's a volunteer position, and it incurs more wrath than love. You have to gain satisfaction not just in the winning, but in the teaching. Especially as the boys get older, good coaches, or bad, can have a tremendous impact on a young man's life. They can really boost, or degrade, self-esteem.

Three has had both varieties, and the bad coaches have made me seriously consider abandoning team sports. But there is a motivating lesson buried in the wretched experiences, as well. I call it the "Fuck You" lesson, and I got to explain it to Three last fall. It teaches one to take all the negativity, all the doubt, all the criticism from a coach and throw it in their face by succeeding, despite their complete dickiness. It's a precursor to what I learned in adulthood: the "I Don't Need To Be Friends With Everyone" lesson. Three's too young to understand the subtlety of that one, but I did adapt the "Fuck You" for basketball. I told him to imagine all the negative emotion flowing through him, like water through a sieve, so it couldn't slow him down. I told him every time he wanted to get angry about a call, he should laugh instead. During the game, I saw him smiling more times than not on the court, but not just to camouflage his anger. I think he was having a good time.

Last night, everyone was much more relaxed. The parents and coaches were generally well-behaved, and the kids played with less vitriol. Our team won the first game handily, which set up the tie-breaker. All the players were tired (notice the low score), and the final was really decided by free throws. At the end, the handshakes seemed genuine, and, although the white team was understandably disappointed, no one was angry. Neither one of the teams was top-seeded in the tournament, so it was a testament to their hard work that they each made it to the final. I was proud of our guys, especially Three and my Captain. And, a little bit of my faith in team sports was restored.