Some Of The Biggest Kids Are Adults
A few weeks ago when I signed up my 5-year-old for his very first soccer team, the YMCA gave us a list of equipment he’d need, like shin guards and shoes with cleats.
Not until a preseason orientation meeting for parents did I realize I, too, might need some soccer equipment: body armor.
I thought we would be familiarized with the mysteries of the game, like why the ball has those black gizmos on it. Instead, the league’s referees offered a class in Soccer Parent Etiquette 101. “We had some problems last year,” said Ms. Manners in gym shorts.
What problems? “Physical fights breaking out between parents at the games.”
Fist fights over soccer games between 5- and 6-year-olds? This was a side of soccer momhood I hadn’t heard about. I’d been envisioning well-groomed mothers chauffeuring offspring to the practice field in shiny Suburbans. After all, this was the image that pollsters touted as a key vote in last year’s presidential election.
Was their ugly little secret that on game days they turned into brawling bleacher bums? That didn’t sound farfetched as I listened to the referees set forth “Rules for Parents/Guardians” that included the following:
No yelling insults at the opposing team.
No parents on the playing field during the game.
No harassing or screaming at the referees and coaches.
No foul language allowed anywhere on the facility.
No fighting with other parents.
I wondered if they would include restrictions on handguns.
At meeting’s end, we were asked to sign a pledge that said we had read the “15 Rules for Parents/Guardians” and that we would try and make soccer “a positive experience for me and my child.”
Was I willing to sign? Absolutely. What took me aback was the need for it.
You see, the YMCA runs this as a “just for fun” league. No scores. No ranking of teams. No championship games. Every kid gets to play. All positions are rotated. No kid gets stuck playing goalie all season. The point is to play and learn and have fun. So what the heck are the parents coming to blows about? Why do they enroll their kids in a noncompetitive league and then go to games screaming at little Caitlin and Max to kill their opponents?
Perhaps it has something to do with the Y’s parent rule No. 9: “It may be hard, but try not to relive your childhood fantasies through your child.”
Sure, you signed her up to strengthen her body and learn character and teamwork. But that’s not important now. What’s important is winning. And that’s when you start yelling at the referee, the coach and the parent standing next to you, the parent who is screaming at his kid to stomp on your kid.
Despite the possibility of getting clobbered in the bleachers, I’m still feeling positive about my kindergartner’s participation in youth soccer. I will warn him about grown-ups. I don’t want him to learn childish behavior.
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