Page 8 - June 2017 Quarterly Newsletter

4-H YOUTH DEVELOPMENT
Perspective
As we are in the midst of spring livestock shows, preparing
for county and state fairs, I’d like to share an article
reprinted with permission from CoachUp Nation by
columnist Mark Maguire from December 16, 2016.
During the 2014 season, I asked my then 11-year-old son:
"What do all the children in the dug-out think when their
parents urge them on with ‘instructions’ and ‘encouragement’
as they are playing the game?" He said bluntly, “they don’t
like it.”
I further pressed him, "What about when I call out some last
second reminders just before you bat, you know, the things
we’ve talked about during the week and to help you
remember what to do?" Again, he didn’t mince his words and
said, “Dad, it doesn’t help.”
He then went on to say, “When I am in the batter’s box, I
follow the instructions of my third base coach and put
myself in the zone to block every other noise out. It doesn’t
help me, or any other kid when our parents are yelling things
out.”
I was staggered by his confident appraisal of the situation.
I went away and talked to a couple of players from our club
who had played for Australia and in the MLB minor leagues.
They said their fathers always watched them quietly and
never said a thing. Let me say that again: never said a thing. the current coach of the St Louis Cardinals.
They may have cheered when their son and his teammates
made a nice hit or play, but they never put their own egos out At the end of a game or practice now, when I am driving my
there to think they would make the last minute difference to
their son’s success or failure in the game.
I saw Zac Shepherd's dad in the stands one day at a Sydney
Blue Sox game -- Zac is from the Hills district in Sydney and
playing in the Detroit Tigers' franchise. I watched him
closely, very closely, looking for any signs of him shouting
out encouragement or frustration from the stands. Nothing.
Even when his son made an error in the field or was struck
out -- nothing. I also saw the dad when he was watching his
thirteen year-old son play -- and he acted the same way. He
just looked pleased to be there and allowed the coaches to do
their job without him interfering.
Over and over again, I read about the players that have gone
far in the game and, without fail, the same story appears.
The parents watched and enjoyed the game in silence. They
let their athletes play and enjoy themselves without putting
the heavy burden of having to please the parent.
You might think: but I know my child and I know what helps
him or her. Really? Do you?
Baseball is a game designed for you to fail. There is a
tremendous amount of pressure on our children when they go
to bat or are alone on the mound. And here I was thinking I
could make the difference to my own son by sneaking behind
MICHELLE BERAN
the dugout to say some ‘inspiring’ words; or have a special
code I could call out that only he would understand; or, as he
swung and missed, that my ‘wisdom’ during his at bat would
make the difference between him getting on base or not.
My son’s words ring loud and true even as I type this blog,
“Dad, it doesn’t help.” But I thought I was helping, and in
reality, all I was helping was my own ego and my pride got
in the way. Yes, it's my own ego and pride riding on every
success and failure of what my child did out there. I know we
like to blame the umpire, blame the coach, blame anything to
explain why our child may not be doing what we hoped for.
Why not stop blaming everybody else and let our children
just have some fun out there with their teammates -- let the
coach do the talking.
Even then, the coach can get in the way at times when he
thinks he can give technical input during an athlete's at-bat.
Let me tell you, it doesn’t help either. The time for technical
input from the coach or parent is when the player is in the
right frame of mind, like when they're training.
Over Christmas I finished a book called the Matheny
Manifesto. If you find it difficult understanding the concept
of how much us parents get in the way, just read that book.
His letter to the parents of the Little League team he was
asked to coach went viral and that is what inspired the book.
Look it up. Search for it. It is an eye-opener, and this is from
son home, I’ll tell him I enjoyed watching him play and note
some good things he and the team did. I’ll try to have a laugh
with him about some errors or ground-outs he made. And if
he is ready, and I have his ear, I may raise an issue I saw
during the game...I may.
However, I’ll phrase it in the right way so he doesn’t think it
is my ego and frustration doing the talking. Because, it’s not
about me; it’s not about any of us parents. Don’t we wish our
big, fat egos would just shut up? I wish mine did.
Don’t get me wrong, I still feel like yelling something
‘beneficial’ out. I still think I can make a difference. Those
that know me know I am a fairly loud cheerer and quite the
clown at some games. Even recently in Taiwan, during the
U12 World Cup, I was loud and having a lot of fun in the
stands. But I’ve learnt to stop yelling instruction… because,
of course, “Dad, it doesn’t help.”
Oh, and if you find your athlete is always looking at you
when he does something wrong on the field, it's probably
because he thinks he displeased you. Next time, why not
move spots so your child doesn’t know where you are. Our
athletes want to please us so much already and it hurts them
even more when they know our ego and pride is riding on the
game.
(Continued on next page)