The best non-award my player could get

I know awards can inspire people and make them feel proud that their accomplishments have been recognized. 

I experienced it myself at the end of 8th grade when I won the Principal's Award and at the end of high school when I won Miss Presentation. 

But awards can also make people feel like failures even if they win an award (or at least they did for me). 

At the end of senior year of high school, we had superlatives voted on by our graduating peers. I had it in my mind that I wanted "Most Likely to Succeed," but I did not get this award.

I was voted Most Leadership. While I was proud of it, it wasn't what my heart desired. It took a long time for me to recognize that 1. this award was really appropriate given the person I am.  I am a leader. 

And 2. getting an award about success may not match whatever definition of success any given person has. I don't have a big-whig corporate job. I don't work full-time. I'm not a mover and shaker. But I've got a fucking interesting life, and I have a positive impact on others. The older I've gotten, the more I think an inch deep, mile-wide life isn't quite as cool as an inch-wide, mile-deep life. 

When I graduated from college with my BA, I wanted the Economics award, but I was given the English award, even though my GPA was higher in Economics. Looking back now, as a certified English teacher and a freelance writer who has won awards for my writing, I understand that it was a little silly for me to get my nose out of joint for not getting the "award" I wanted.

And how many people are there who never win the awards but who show up and show out and work hard and do all the things well but maybe not as well as the best? They never get the recognition they deserve. 

When N was a freshman, she had a field hockey coach she really liked and wasn't with some of her past middle school teammates. These girls were good players and had been playing longer than N. She felt intimidated by them; when they made varsity and she made JV her freshman year, it was the BEST thing to ever happen for her self-esteem. She was able to shine. She played so well and earned a Best Defense Award at that year's end-of-season banquet. 

(It was the epitome of bigger fish in smaller pond versus smaller fish in bigger pond scenario.)

The downside of her esteem shooting up and playing so well is that she made varsity her sophomore year where she again felt those intimidated feelings being around the girls from middle school who made varsity their freshmen year. 

I'm not sure N was ever able to fully rise above those feelings, but by senior year, she redirected herself from that to becoming a friend to the underclassmen on the team. 

During senior night this past season, when a rainstorm interrupted the team's final festivities of the night, I collected all of the posters that the underclassmen had made for the seniors to protect them from the rain and noticed that N had a crap ton (that are still in my living room). One of the underclassmen moms even made a point to show me the sweet poster her daughter had made for N before senior night festivities began. And they were clearly posters that the girls who made them had spent time and effort on--detailed drawings and battery-powered lights and all kinds of extra. 

Last night at N's last field hockey banquet, one of the underclassmen parents came up to me and the mother of another senior (a close friend of N's) last night and told us how much she appreciated that our daughters had made her daughter feel so much a part of the team and so welcome. 

And that was the non-award award that makes me most proud of my daughter. 

I don't say this to dismiss the awards the other girls won. They are very good players; they deserve their awards. 

I say this because when it comes to who I want my daughter to be, if I could design a perfect kid in my estimation, I'd rather have her field hockey stats suck and for her to be a kind, open, and friendly person who other younger players look up to and admire.

I was wrong about sports

Many years ago I read the novel Jack Gance by Ward Just. It tells the story of a young man who goes to Washington, DC with idealism and a desire to make change, but the political machine slowly wears him down. He eventually gets sucked in by that machine that rolls over anyone who tries to push it off its course. If there is a lesson in that book, it is that you either conform or you get out. 

Or the machine crushes you. 

I've never been good at conforming. It was one of the reasons I stopped attending Catholic church in my twenties; I would attend out of a sense of obedience/shame and would leave with a massive anger-induced headache every time. My mental health won out, and I got out. 

I couldn't change the church, so I left. (Eventually, I found a church that allows me to be me where I can attend without feeling like my head is going to explode in rage.)

Last night, after a conversation with D, it occurred to me that I have been wrong about this whole sports thing ever since N was in middle school. 

I've written once on this blog about my failed sports "career" as a kid, but it wasn't even failed. It never began. What I realized even then was that sports was focused on results, on winning. People were a means to an end, not an end in themselves. That is what sports is; to try to change it would be like trying to change the spots on a leopard. 

But for me, people have always been more important than winning. 

In a real sense, sports rejected me, and so I rejected sports back. Some people react differently, I suppose. They continue to love a game that didn't love them. They continue to want to be part of the team.  There is an entire field of sports psychology, and I can't even pretend to know all the iterations of people's feelings about sports, winning, losing, self-esteem, etc. But I imagine that for every kid for whom sports gave a leg up, there are as many or more for whom sports let down and so they found something else that they feel a meaningful part of. 

I can find parallels between why I left the church and why I rejected sports: both were an exclusive club. If you didn't meet certain requirements or qualifications, you were out. Or you might be part of the team, but you weren't really part of the team. 

And, of course, there is a need for requirements. I want there to be requirements for lawyers and doctors and mechanics. I don't want some idiot willy-nilly sawing on my brain if I have an aneurysm. 

But religion and sports seem different to me with sports being far below religion in importance. The state of my conscience is way, way, WAY more important that tossing a ball around. 

[I mean, when I really think about it, there is a whole lot of angst/drama/anger/money spent over tossing a ball, and it seems like something Samuel Beckett should have written a play about. But he stuck with religion, which is also often absurd.]

Eventually I found a church that has an open-table. This doesn't exist in sports at least not that I have seen or found yet. The goal is, above all else, winning. 

And my conversation with D last night made me recognize that I have been wanting sports and asking sports and demanding that sports be something it is not, and I'm in the wrong for that. 

My view about sports seems the exact opposite of what sports enthusiasts think. I see it as exclusive and full of drama and half-truths and a whole lot of mind-fuckery. I cannot reconcile "We are a team; let's work together" with "We want to win and will isolate/ignore you in order to do that." Those same ideas are at work in sports, and they seem, to me at least, to be irreconcilable. 

Perhaps the problem is in the openness of joining. "Come join the team" is often followed by "But we're only going to play the same people over and over again." 

For some people who love the sport, I guess that is good enough. 

For me, it has never been good enough. (And gives me a deeper appreciation of women who have said "F you" to the Catholic church's refusal to allow women to become priests.) If you are good enough to be on the team, you are good enough to play. And if you're not good enough to play, coaches should have the guts to cut people, even if it makes the players sad (as it did me when I was a kid). They are going to be sad and/or angry anyway, but especially if they are being told "We love you; we're a team" but then actions are different. 

[As much as I felt rejected when I didn't make the A, B, or C basketball teams as a 10-year-old, it wasn't as bad as what I would have experienced if I'd made the team but was too shitty to actually put on the field/court.]

I truly try to understand sports dynamics, but after seven years of watching my kid play a sport (and I only watch when my kid is actually on the field), I have gotten nowhere. 

Another thing I suppose I've always known about sports but never specifically focused on is that it is a power imbalance that sometimes makes people do things they wouldn't otherwise do. I understand now how Larry Nasser was able to abuse girls. Parents may have spoken amongst themselves, may have wondered or questioned or felt uncomfortable or been downright angry. But to fight and fight and fight means their child loses something valuable to them. Their child would lose an opportunity, and their child would be stuck in a quagmire of uncomfortable. I have seen this dynamic play out in real life so I get it now. 

Parents may be angry as hell and speaking loudly and proudly amongst each other but quiet as mice when the coach is around. I both love and hate that I cannot just be silent, that I can't just let it go, but what I really hate is that other parents allow me to speak out without speaking up with me. I understand why they don't, but I hate it anyway. 

Even parents whose child plays a lot put up with stuff they despise so their child will continue playing a lot. 

I'm fairly sure someone who loves sports would read this and call it a major case of sour grapes, and they aren't wrong. But if I were to care about sports at all, I would care for the underdog most. I would care for the kids who aren't the all-stars but who just enjoy playing. (And yes, this is what my kid is like, and so I know I have that bias, but I would have that bias anyway based on who I've been my entire life.)

How much shrieking and gnashing of teeth would occur if coaches decided to bench their all-stars and only play the other kids? How quickly would those same parents who think everything is great when their kid plays a lot suddenly find themselves angry and frustrated? When we're in a privileged position, we can  quickly call someone else's frustrations sour grapes. "They're just angry because their kid isn't playing much," and they are right. If they put those shoes on their own feet, they would feel the same. 

They just don't have to wear those shoes. 

As a rule, politics doesn't change and religion doesn't change and sports don't change. The power imbalance won't allow it. And if it happens, it takes many, many, many people working together.

Somewhere along the line, I forgot that I cannot change the animal that is sports. It can bend me if I allow it, but I cannot bend it. 

Butting my nose into other's business OR saying what needs to be said

All it takes is one Google search of my daughter's school and the word "dress code" to see my name blasted all over the internet. 

If anyone can tell you that one event posted on social media can change how others perceive you and have impacts on your life, it is me. 

At the time, I spoke out because it was the right thing to do. I didn't say shitty things about the principal or the school. I didn't cuss anyone. I maintained my dignity and integrity while pointing out that what the school did was wrong.

But I was in mid-40s so my pre-frontal lobe is totally done developing. 

And there was fall-out for me. The number of times I was called to substitute teach at the school after that was ZERO. I picked up jobs there that were canceled. My assumption is that they didn't want me in the building. To them, I wasn't to be trusted. 

I doubt I would have felt any differently had I been in their shoes. 

But enough about my experience. 

I get that teenagers are going to say stupid things on social media. 

(Background: A student on another team at my daughter's school posted a not-great comment about a local school that included a picture of members of the team. A parent from that other school told me about it. I emailed the team my daughter is on because some of the girls in the picture play on both teams. It was a notice that 1.) Something on social media had been shared with me and 2.) Be careful what you post on social media (because talking smack about other schools is childish and reflects poorly on your school and coach...WHICH IT DOES.) And maybe be careful about who you take pics with because some of them post stupid stuff.)

But as a 1.) person committed to integrity and a believe that social media should be civil if nothing else and 2) a parent of a teenager at that school and 3.) a parent member of the SBDM council for the school, it is my responsibility to remind students (any of them) what is expected of them while they are in their school uniform. 

The teacher in me came out a little bit, ok.

It is my responsibility to remind them (and parents) that conversations need to continually happen about 1.) who you pick for your friends and 2.) that your friends may post stupid shit that makes you look bad simply because they posted a picture of you with their asinine comment. 

(I KNOW about logical fallacies, including guilt by association. I may not agree with it, but it is part of how the world works. I don't make the rules.)

And to be perfectly honest, this kind of behavior simply burns me up to the core. I HATE bad sportsmanship, and it may be one of the reasons why I despise sports in general. If you see too much of it, and you don't love sports enough to forgive it, it sort of ruins it all for you. 

I didn't go looking for this problem; my kid isn't even on this team. This problem was brought to my attention (and subsequently brought to my daughter's attention). And, unfortunately, I'm a "if I see something, I say something" kind of person because I recognized some of the girls as being teammates of my kid. I know some of their parents, and I like to think that if I would be angry to see my kid's picture on a post like that, they would too. 

I ended up having two people (full grown adults) say something along the lines of "Well, the other team was doing X,Y and Z." To which I responded, "Just because the other kids or other team does stupid stuff doesn't mean our school and our students stoop to that level." 

I don't have many lines in the sand, but this is one of them. 

So did I overstep? 

Maybe. 

Did my email cause the coach more grief? 

Maybe.

Did I further my reputation as somebody who says shit no one likes to hear and is a bitch?

Almost certainly. 

Would I do it again?

Yes. Because it isn't a bad thing to remind young people with undeveloped pre-front cortexes that social media can follow them around and cause an awful lot of stress in their lives (even if they never intended it.)

It is fucking off-season, and I should not be dealing with sports shit

I learned a long time ago, both through teaching and being a mom, that I do not like lots of rules. And this isn't because I don't like rules. 

Rules are sometimes necessary. 

People don't always act in their own best interests, nor in the best interests of the society. 

I simply learned that the more rules you have, the more rules you have to police. 

For me, it made more sense to pick the 3 major things I would not tolerate and let that other shit go. 

Kids knew I wasn't going to nit-pick them to death; they also knew the hill on which I was willing to fight and die, and as a general rule, they didn't climb that hill with any regularity.

My kids have learned the same. 

So when I think back to the 2019 dress code kerfluffle, it may have seemed like I was anti-rule.

While I thought the dress code rules were too strict and did penalize girls and non-cis-gender students, what raised my hackles the most was the utter lack of consistency of the rules. The rule-enforcers were not consistent which was maddening for both students and parents who may have legitimately tried to follow the dress code but then said "fuck it" when the rules weren't actually enforced.

This week, I had to dig into the state high school athletics bylaws to see what the rules are about what coaches can do to and for players during off-season. 

Language was used by a certain person who was acting as a mouthpiece for the coach about these off-season activities being "mandatory." This person was more or less telling student athletes to change their winter work schedules in order to have team-building Zoom activities.

And I was pretty certain that if it is off-season, no one can tell any player what to do with his/her time. Not the coach; not the mouthpiece for the coach; not a principal; not a parent. 

It occurred to me to ask myself: "Am I playing both sides regarding rules?"

Do I use the rules when they help me/my kid and do I fight against them when they potentially harm me/my kid?

My first answer is yes.

And while that bothers me a little, I have never claimed to be anything other than acutely human.

But I needed to think more about it. 

Why would I seek to enforce a rule in one respect and fight against a rule in another respect?

Both involve parents and their children. 

Both involve something that can be a hassle to parents and their children. 

One rule was inconsistently enforced; the other rule was seemingly not being followed. 

I don't believe that life is fair--it is completely unfair that my life has been as privileged as it has been while other people's lives have not been. I don't expect fairness and honestly deserve a lot more unfairness in my life than I actually get. 

So I wonder if it was an equity thing regarding who may be penalized? 

The dress code rules penalized females and non cis-gender students. It penalized poorer students. It penalized students whose parents couldn't bring them clothes because they can't leave their jobs. 

The off-season thing would penalize kids who have made other plans in the off-season, like church or jobs or simply just enjoying a break. 

While this exercise in reflection was somewhat enjoyable for me because I like a good stew, it also peeved me to no end that I'm having to check the rules and have phone conversations to say things like, "That is against the rules." 

And about fucking sports, of all things. 

Advice to my daughter: Be careful what you wish for

In July, when N tried out for field hockey, she hoped to make the varsity team.
She got her wish.
Like many wishes, she is realizing that the "dream" of the wish is different from the "reality" of the wish.
This is similar to the "dream" of career, marriage, and babies; what you envision rarely pans out to match reality.

N has not played in the last two games, and last night it brought her to tears, especially since her grandparents came to the game.
Now, N is not alone in not getting as much playing time as she wants; there are at least 5 other girls on the team who haven't been getting much time.

It is hard for me to walk this tightrope with her.

The part of me that abhors sports just for this reason is saying (inside my brain), "Told you so. This is why sports suck. It is win at all costs. Winning is more important than confidence-building or skill development or general enjoyment of the game."

When she complained about playing so many games in a row, I did actually say to her, "Well, N. This is varsity. You wanted to be on varsity, and now you are."

There is another part of me that knows she isn't playing up to how she did last year.
The untrained psychologist in me thinks this is due to 1.) her ankle injury and 2.) being back on a team with girls she played with in middle school who are really good and really aggressive.

Even if her ankle isn't actively hurting, she knows that spot is there, and she is being careful with it. But careful isn't an asset in a game; focusing on an ankle takes your mind off the ball.

And N seems to have reverted to that "let the other girls lead" thing that she had in middle school.
Last year, on JV, she was able to assert herself more.

I think N is letting her own head get in her way.

I have tried (gently) telling her that.
You can't tell a 15-year-old much.

As my children get older, I am, more and more, missing the days when the worst problem they had was that I gave them a green sippy cup instead of a blue one, and that was the sole focus of life's disappointments.
Even though N's problems then were as annoying as N's problems now, I could at least do something about them. 

PTSD from lacrosse info session

Prior to N making the field hockey team, I had told her she could only do one sport per year.

Call me a lazy, unsupportive parent, but last year wore me out. She did field hockey from July-October and then began conditioning for lacrosse in November, which continued until lacrosse season actually began in the spring.

At the time, I didn't mind her starting in November because she had never played, and I felt that she had a better shot at making the team if she knew something about the game.

As much as I complain about sports and what it does to my schedule and wear/tear on my car, I'm proud of N for playing field hockey. She enjoys it and is playing better and better. She plays it for the fun of it, and while she doesn't like losing, she isn't terribly competitive.

In the grand scheme of life, a game loss means very little.
For that matter, a game win means very little. 

With her enjoyment and the exercise she gets from sports in mind, I told her she could try out for lacrosse but that we are taking November and December OFF.

So the other evening, I went to the parent info meeting about lacrosse.

It can be summed up like this:

Spend all your money to fundraise for lacrosse between right this second and February, however, we will only have two teams per gender; plan on your kid not making the team. And if your kid expects to make it, they have to LIVE LACROSSE. Family, school, lacrosse---that's it. 

(The family, school, lacrosse thing is verbatim from the coach.)

The coach also talked about how some kids who are now playing fall sports come to the conditioning lacrosse is doing now, after having practiced their fall sport for two hours.

My initial thought was: "Are you fucking kidding me? My kid is not going to another hour-long practice after a two-hour field hockey practice because her body needs to REST." Not to mention her mind needs to rest. Not to mention that her family would like to see her occasionally.

Somehow, by mentioning the dedicated players who come to lacrosse after their fall sports, it felt like the family, school, lacrosse thing was really "ALL WE CARE ABOUT IS LACROSSE AND SO SHOULD YOU!"

I am, personally, a big, BIG fan of MODERATION.

Work, but don't work to the point that you fail to enjoy other things.
Exercise, but don't exercise to the point that you don't do anything else or you develop injuries from it.
Play, but don't play to the point that you don't work.
Read, but throw in some movies and music and art and travel and other things that make you a well-rounded individual.
Eat in moderation. Even too much water all at one time ain't great for your body and can make you puke.

This lacrosse info session did not, to me, seem very moderate.
It felt rather intense, and I'm so intense inside my own head that I try not to add to that intensity outside my head.

I have decided and informed N that
1. these folks are bananas
and
2. she can condition in January and try out in February
and
3. I'm not fundraising until her ass makes the team.

If this makes me unsupportive, selfish, and not a team player, I'm happy to claim that title.

Being a bad-a$$ versus just playing around

The other day, D and I took a bike ride through a local park system while the kids were at friends' houses.  While biking, I was thinking about my general fitness level, which isn't fantastic but isn't terrible either.  My motto is "do something rather than nothing," which I think is a good one considering as a person ages she is usually unable to be a fitness queen.

This led me to think about people who are or try to be fitness "bad-asses."  There is absolutely nothing wrong with this, but it is not something I care to do or aspire to be.  I personally think that sucks a lot of the fun out of exercising.  It takes a lot of work to be a bad-a$$.

I then tangent-hopped to my own non-athletic children, especially G who is, of the three, the least physically coordinated.

We encourage our kids to get outside and play in whatever form that takes.  Usually it is frisbee throwing and play-set swinging and, occasionally, it is baseball throwing and hitting with a bat.  We don't focus on correct form much because for G just agreeing to go outside and do anything physical is a huge success.  If we spend too much time and energy correcting him on form, he will become frustrated and stop playing since he doesn't really enjoy doing physical stuff to begin with.

I began to wonder about how kids played baseball or other games when kids used to just go outside and play without parents coaching and instigating the game and schedule.  I guess I thought about A Tree Grows in Brooklyn when Neeley plays baseball with his friends.  Parents were busy working and didn't interfere with how or why or when kids played their pickup games.  Did the kids play with correct form?  Did they hit the ball in exactly the way a professional would?  I doubt it.  They played.  They had fun.

Of course, I'm not suggesting there is no value in learning correct form, but for kids who don't enjoy sports and whose parents are happy for them just to go outside and do something physical, focusing on the form isn't a priority.  Playing on a team isn't a priority.  Winning isn't a priority.  Just doing something rather than nothing is what it's all about.

Really, I don't have snarky comments (ok, maybe just one) about the sports banquet

Last week was N's field hockey banquet.  It was my first such event.

It was very nice, took a huge amount of effort and organization on the part of its coordinators, and it meant so much to N.  She and the other girls were excited and had fun.

Following the meal, each of the coaches gave out awards to their players.  I appreciated N's coach because she kept her awards' delivery short and sweet.  N received "Most Improved Offense."  I don't actually know what that means, but whatever it is, she has improved so I'm happy.

It was at this point that the internal snark came out.  Technically, it is/was not directed at any of the particular coaches; it is/was aimed at all sports players/coaches around the world.  I have had occasions to listen to televised interviews of sports figures, and they are the most redundant, nonsensical things I've ever heard.  It makes Through the Looking Glass and other Lewis Carroll fare seem like ludicity.

At the awards banquet, it took quite a long time to say what might have been summed up in one sentence:  "Players gave their all, gave 110% and rocked it." The Carrie way to have an awards ceremony in under 2 minutes.

The awards took long enough that I played with my phone and seriously considered grabbing my book from my purse until it was over.

But all the while I was having these "please.STOP.TALKING" thoughts, I felt guilty, which is why after we returned home and got the kids to bed, I sent a thank you email to the coach, coordinator and parents of N's team.

Although I grouched about the 3-times-a-week practice and rolled my eyes at all the goody bags and "team spirit" things, the whole point of it was to team- and friendship-build, and the girls loved it.  They are 11-year-olds who thrive on that stuff.

It occurred to me that I should be thankful for the parents and coaches who put the energy into these little things.  Just because I think they are unnecessary and pointless doesn't mean they actually are.  My reality isn't everyone's reality; my disinterest isn't everyone's disinterest.

Especially not my daughter's, who is already talking about next year's field hockey season (heaven help me).