After the Game: What do you say?
April 20, 2017
By Kevin Wolma
Hudsonville Athletic Director
“I love to watch you play.” Those are the six words a son or daughter wants to hear from his or her parents after a game.
What if your child does not play? What do you say then? Parents can’t say, “I love to watch you play” when your child does not play, nor can they say other post-competition statements like:
“Did you fight like a dog?”
“Did you have fun?”
It is hard to fight like a dog when not given the opportunity, and we all know players have more fun when they play in the game. When you google the phrase, “what to say after a game,” there are all sorts of articles written with some of them backed by research. However, when you google the phrase – “what to say when your kid does not play” – very little comes out of that search.
Why?
This is a hard and very sensitive area for most parents to come up with the right thing to say.
Before we talk about what to say in this situation, it may be more important to discuss what not to say after a game where your child does not play. Some of the comments all parents should avoid are:
“Why have you not played in the last three games? Your coach must not like you for some reason.”
“Your coach is clueless; he has no idea what he is doing.”
“You are way better than Johnny! I can’t believe he is playing more minutes than you.”
“Did you see how many mistakes Suzie made? I know if you were given the opportunity you would not make those same mistakes.”
Parents will often say these things because they are frustrated, and parents think they are comforting their child by giving them an excuse. What these comments actually do is create a divisive culture within a team. After hearing these negative comments over and over again, the athlete will eventually believe it only to see his or her attitude and effort become negatively affected over time. That athlete turns into a selfish teammate.
Now let’s put yourself in the situation where your child comes home after a game after not playing. What do you say?
The first thing you could do is talk about the game itself. Recount certain plays and make note of individuals who played well for both teams. This initial conversation takes the uncomfortable nature of the situation and sets the stage to talk about how athletes feel about not getting into the game.
There may be times when your child will not want to talk about it because he or she is upset, angry or even embarrassed. These moments of silence give the parents an opportunity to talk about the importance of being a good teammate and how an athlete can have a major impact on the team no matter what role is played. They can teach how to be the first person off the bench to congratulate or give a word of encouragement to teammates. Parents also can point out that the harder athletes work in practice, the better it is going to make the team.
In other words, we have the responsibility as parents to teach our kids the significance of living life pointed out no matter the circumstance. Living pointed out simply means to put others before yourself in everything you do. Finding ways to make the people around you the best they can be. No complaining. No excuses.
Andrew DeWitt played two years of Varsity basketball for me at Hudsonville, and he rarely had the opportunity to play. Unfortunately for him, he was a good player on two really good teams with lots of talent. He understood his role and treated practices like games – playing as hard as he could.
He would elevate the intensity of practice every day. On game nights, he was our biggest cheerleader. His impact went way beyond scoring points or getting rebounds.
Andrew’s parents were great teachers as they guided him through those tough times where it would have been easy to make an excuse or complain. Instead, they taught Andrew he could always have an influence on other people’s lives despite the role he played. What a great lesson that Andrew can carry with him for the rest of his life.
At the end of the day, one thing every parent in every situation can say that will have a positive impact is, “I love you.” Many times athletes think they are letting their parents down because of their lack of playing time. Knowing that their parents love them the same whether they play a lot or not at all has a significant impact on how the student-athlete responds to adversity, and specifically not playing in games.
I challenge all parents to use these potentially negative situations as a way to teach student-athletes valuable lessons on what it means to be a great teammate – and more importantly in teaching them to live their life pointed out. There may not be a simple six-word phrase to say when your child does not play, but there is definitely plenty to talk about.
Wolma has served as Hudsonville's athletic director since 2011 and previously coached boys varsity basketball and girls varsity golf among other teams. He also previously taught physical education and health.
School Sports Reflection: Play to Learn
December 7, 2018
By Christopher Mundy
Special for benchmarks
Christopher Mundy is a graduate of Manton High School and Michigan State University and the principal of Mundy Advisors Group in Chicago. This commentary previously was published this summer in the Traverse City Record-Eagle.
What are sports really about today? And are today's parents missing the point? Time, money, effort and energy. All for what? Trophies, medals, first place, a college scholarship or that top-five draft pick and that multi-million dollar contract that come with it. Fortune and fame?
Why does American society have such an obsession with sports, and are the true values of the games being lost in the “new” modern era of sports?
What if the games kids played were for the pure values of competition, hard work, camaraderie, trust, respect, discipline, communication and relationship building? Even just expressing these words and phrases seems healthier than the win-at-all-cost, everyone-gets-a-trophy, playing for the “end game” society we currently live in.
What messages are we instilling/infusing in our future leaders? It has become a strong and consistent message across all fronts – the arms race to be the best and win at all costs.
Families sacrificing their most precious resources, time and money, for what? For the golden child, the chosen child ... that special one. A glimmer of hope that becomes a burning obsession (for the parent). Are parents attempting to right their wrongs of their playing days or relive their youth through their child? It is an easy and complex trap.
I don’t have children, but I have played sports for nearly 40 years. I have coached, officiated, watched and listened closely at all levels. A spectator with an intense passion for the lessons to learn and a strong curiosity of why and how. I guess at 45 I am old ... or maybe just old-school.
Being raised on an isolated farm in Northern Michigan with a dirt driveway and a makeshift basketball hoop created the love affair with sports. Games of pig, horse or around-the-world with my father are some of my fondest memories. He has since passed. He would always shoot with his off-hand or easy bunny shots to finish me off. And Dad always told me, if you want to play in the fourth quarter, be a 90-percent free-throw shooter and the coach has to put you in.
Baseball would entail games of rain on the roof by myself and a homemade batting tee to hit home runs into the pasture. Football was either offense-defense (three-person football, with my father as quarterback) against my older sister or breakaway running plays against my aggressive dogs; a stiff-arm was my best defense. No video games or cable television on our farm, maybe this fueled my fire or forced my hand. It sure did not make friends want to come over for sleepovers.
Small town America was a great place to be raised. I am biased in that regard. I do think it takes a village to raise a child. Sports was and is the fiber of these communities; it was reality TV before reality TV, and what Friday Night Lights was based on. Kids playing a game for a common goal. It could not be more simple or pure. They are called “games” for a reason. When did we start taking it so seriously? Where did we go wrong?
In high school, we were pretty good. You put kids together since kindergarten and they kind of know and trust each other, they know each other’s strengths and weaknesses. They know more than this. They know each other’s families. And extended families. They pretty much know everything about each other. Which family is broken and which one may have a little more love at their dinner table. Good or bad, this is the reality of being raised in a small town.
Our basketball team was so good we received a top-five ranking, and legendary Detroit Free Press writer Mick McCabe compared us to Hickory, Indiana, in the movie “Hoosiers.” No Hollywood ending for Manton in 1991 though.
This is where the lessons of sports become real; the harsh reality of your childhood fantasies begin to fade, and fade quickly. The hours spent in that driveway will lead to no state championships. The early morning trips to the gym to play against your adult coaches would lead to no college scholarships. And the thousands of hours in the weight room lifting, jumping rope and wearing ankle weights would lead to no multi-million dollar contract. Devastating. Crushing. The end?
No. This is just the beginning.
This is the beginning of life’s toughest lessons being learned. This is where the sweat of your youth meets the tears of maturity, leading to a wisdom that is worth more than any trophy. Maturity is processing these challenging life lessons, learning from them and moving on. If you do not let go of these failures, the burdens can lead you to a life of regret or maybe becoming that aggressive parent trying correct his or her shortcomings through a son or daughter. You know these parents from your kid's games, and I hope you are not one of them.
It has often been stated more is learned from losing than winning. The lessons from failure burn deep, etched into our soul, this pain more powerful than the glory of victory. These lessons and scenarios easily translate to our personal relationships and work life. Memorable. Powerful anecdotes that become part of us. Part of or history. Part of our story. Erase these chapters from our lives, and what are we left with? A shell of a person. A half-written book. A journey half-walked. Perspective with no depth.
These kinds of lessons can’t be learned in a textbook, cannot be explained by a parent or modeled by a teacher in a classroom. The field, the court, the rink is where these lessons are learned. Where family values are refined. Manners are taught. And respect is earned.
Or is it?
This is the crossroads we are at as a society. I cannot think of any other vehicle that offers so much potential and opportunity for the building of character. It starts with the family. And where does it go from there? School, church, a job. The military. A fraternity. Volunteering? An internship or apprenticeship? A civic organization?
Nope. Sports.
Sports is the most dynamic and able tool to build character. The kind of character we need right now as a country and society. Polished. Refined. Character with a sharp edge. An edge called courage. But the reality is sports has become about money, power and control. Are these qualities desirable? Have they corrupted the innocence of sports? Do we worship false idols? Is this generation entitled? Have we given them too much? Made it to easy?
Are the kids having fun? What do the kids want? Do kids have and show a genuine passion for a sport? Have we dared to ask them? Have we prepped them with the appropriate answer? Or do we answer for them? Do we hear them OR do we listen to them? To clarify, listening is an active process of hearing and then processing. Coach Tom Izzo starts each basketball camp with, “Learn to listen ... and listen to learn.” It is that simple.
I do think communication is vital to this process. Communication between all parties: athletic directors, coaches, parents and players. Governing bodies. All stakeholders. A real and raw dialogue on what we collectively want out of sports. Because somehow we have gotten lost, and the many headlines and feature stories confirm the crossroads where we’ve arrived.
Do we as leaders, adults, parents care enough to look into the mirror and ask the tough questions? Or is it just easier to proceed as is? If you believe sports has a larger impact than trophies, medals and ribbons, a larger value than money, then I encourage you to start the conversation with those around you. Our communities’ futures depend on these conversations.
We may soon reach a point of no return, and this would be a catastrophic failure for our generation. When playing for the “love of the game” is just a marketing tagline and not a real opportunity for our kids. For our children’s sake, I hope this is not the case. I know I am a better athlete, better professional and better human from all the losses in my life.
Play hard. Play to compete. Play with passion. Play to learn.