Seven Days of Things That Bug Me, Day Three, 3.10.10
Wednesday, March 10, 2010
Children's Sports Parents.
I'm not talking about the parents of kids that help coach and manage the teams, nor am I talking about the parents that come to the games and root for the team, including their children.
What bugs me is those loud-mouthed parents who come to the game and try to coach their child from the stands,
Never mind that the last time they looked up the rules or played the game or even watched a game on television was back in the age of dinosaurs.
Never mind that what they yell from the stands is the very opposite of what the coaches have been teaching them for the past two months, these people feel that they just HAVE to show they are Interested in their children - by yelling at them and embarrassing them.
If you're reading this and think you might befgeeling a twinge of guilt, well, I have to tell you that you are embarrassing the psis out of them. Not only are you embarrassing them, but you are breaking their concentration. Broken concentration makes them do things in a panic like swing at balls over their head after you have screamed, "Swing, damit, swing the dam bat!"
This is a test. Do you even know what the Infield Fly Rrule is and why the batter is out?
As a coach, do you know what I want to do? I want to pick up one of our team bats, walk out of the dugout and over to the stands, get your attention and swing the dam bat - right at your dam head.
You are a goober. Someone who hasn't read page one of the Parenting Manual. Your child strikes out, all the time listening to your screaming, stupid and wrong advice, and they walk back to the dugout. They walk, with their heads down and hoping no one on the team can see the tears. Way to go dad - or now that I'm helping coach girls fast-pitch softball, mom.
Do you think that they are so ignorant that they don't know when what they did was not correct. Well then, why do you think you have to compound everything by screaming it so Everyone is aware that Your little girl didn't hit a home run?
Do you know when You've skrewed up? Do you like it when your boss rips you a new one in front of YOUR peers?
My specialty in coaching is baseball and softball. Twelve years so far. I'm hoping to make it to thirteen. Why is it that I am hoping. Because of Your behavior. I find as I age my temper is becoming shorter and shorter. Sometimes, the other coaches have to pen me in the corner of the dugout. Well, at least they have to give me the evil eye.
I can't let an occasional curse word fly like I could with the Pony League boys. I'm coaching 13 year old girls now. They can be tough as nails one minute, and they can hear their parents rag on them and they break into tears, heartbroken.
Man do I want to go straighten you out then.
Little, well, not so little at age thirteen (half the team is taller than me, now), but emotionally very sensitive.
As a coach, I have to wait awhile with girls. With a boy I could go right down, sit next to him and stare out into the field and say, "Man, I'm glad I don't have your dad. How do you keep from calling him a jerk?" A boy would snicker, then start to laugh. If I would say something like that to one of my girls, and yes, they are All MY Girls, they'd just totally have a breakdown.
So I wait a while, at least until all the steam is through coming out of my ears, and I go down to your little girl and tell her that she has to Iron Up. Close her ears. Ignore the Peanuts in the cheap seats. If the fans knew anything, really, they'd be coaches. Then I ask them if they want earplugs.
Yep, I always have a dozen sets of new earplugs in out First Aid box just for the use of the girls that have loud-mouthed parents. They are iridescent orange or flaming lime green. I hope you see them. But you probably can't because their helmets complexly cover their ears, all the way down to the jaw in most cases.
Some of MY Girls now ask for them before they go out to take their FIRST turn at bat. They've learned that if they can't hear you, you can't break their concentration and they can look really, really good.
Whuuff. That felt really good to get off my chest.
One more thing. Sometimes you are so obnoxious that you get under an umpires skin. When he throws you out of the game and then asks one of the off-duty policemen we hire for security to escort you off of the property - well, don't look at the end of the dugout. You'll see an old grandpa trying his best to do an Irish jig - and I'm a Scot!