Sportsmanship and Toeing the Parental Line

So, i know some of you are waiting for pictures from the costume party, but it is just gonna have to wait. I have a little something to get off my chest. It's called, "What the fuck is wrong with you, you sack of shit parents?"

I guess I should start at the beginning. I should mention first that I was not present for the event in question, Rollie's soccer game. It took place Saturday afternoon. His father took him to the game, while I readied our home for being descended upon by eleven costumed children on Sunday.

Rollie is my oldest, so this is my first experience with parenting a child in organized sports leagues. I played sports growing up, and really credit the experiences for giving me much of my self-confidence, and my sense of sportsmanship. I played tee ball, baseball, softball, soccer, swimming, and tennis, and even recreational basketball, at which i was pretty terrible. I am competitive and love to win, but I have never been a sore loser, and am always a gracious winner, except in drinking games, or games played while drinking (beer pong, pool, darts) where "talking shit" is acceptable, and even encouraged, and where it would never set a poor example in front of a child. I have looked forward to my kids playing sports and learning about teamwork, good sportsmanship, doing one's best, and self-confidence.

So, Rollie is playing soccer for the first time this year. He is in a co-ed, under six league. The kids range in age from 3-6 (a huge age difference actually), and they don't keep score. There are no referees, just the two coaches out on the field with the kids, giving them pointers and running the game. It is all about learning the skills, the rules of the game, and sportsmanship. Or so i thought.

Rollie definitely got a competitive streak from me. he likes to win, and we have been working with him on things like, "it is okay if you lose, as long as you give it your best" and "you can't win them all," and teamwork. One problem we have had so far this year is that not only does he want to take the ball away from the opponent, he also will go after the ball if his own teammate has it, and we are trying to teach him that he needs to work with his team, not against them.

Other than that though, we had so far had no real problems. So, Todd takes him to his game on Saturday. None of the kids on Rollie's team have played before, and there is a kid on the other team that is playing circles around the others. He also played pretty rough, throwing elbows, pulling on shirts and pants, etc. I have never seen any unsportsmanlike behavior called at these games. Either the coaches did not see this stuff, or they just let it go. So, Rollie is pretty competitive and started getting mad, and from what I can tell from what Todd said, he kind of did the same stuff, and told the kid to "stop it." Well, this kid said to Rollie, loud enough for Todd to hear, although it seems that other parents and the coaches did not hear it, "Y'all suck."

Now, as I said, Rollie is my oldest, and it doesn't take long after sending your eldest child to school to realize that they are in for quite an education. While they are learning the ABCs and 123s (or not, but that is a whole 'nother post), they are also learning a ton of really neat sayings and behaviors from the kids in their class who are not the oldest; these kids have older brothers and sisters and just aren't as innocent as the eldest siblings. They use words and phrases like, "You suck." "I'm going to kill you." And lots of stuff about shooting and guns. It is frightening the way that influences on your child are suddenly out of your control.

Back the game: This kid says this stuff, plus the other team is scoring a bunch of goals, and Rollie's team, not so much. And the team is getting pretty discouraged. Which is fine. In my opinion, it is just as important to learn how to lose gracefully as it is to win. But then Todd takes Rollie to school this morning, and one of the kids in his class was on the other team. He is a nice kid, and Rollie and he are friends. Well, his mom asks if Rollie had recovered from the drama of the game and it seems that Rollie was snarky with his friend on Saturday. (I guess out of frustration at losing, not that frustration is in any way an excuse for bad behavior.) She then proceeds to tell Todd some further stuff about the "Y'all suck" kid's behavior on Saturday. Seems as he was substituted out of the game, he came out and loudly proclaimed, either to the parents or in front of the parents, that he was "going to kick that kid's ass." We assume he was referring to Rollie. Apparently, no one said anything. At least this one parent heard the comment. Todd did not. We do not know if any one else heard it, but according to this mother, it was loud enough to hear.

I know what I would do in this situation. What would you do? Would you have said something? As a parent, do you rely on a coach to deal with these things? Is it really best to ignore it? What reason would his parents have for not reprimanding him for this behavior? Would you reprimand someone else's child for saying something like this? And what kind of a household is this child living in that he remotely thinks it is acceptable to say something like that, much less in front of a group of adults?

Am I being over-protective and raising a complete wuss of a child? Is it really so wrong to want my child to learn about respect for others, respect for adults, etc?

Most of all, what kind of a child talks like this at age six or under?

I am fuming and just mad I wasn't there to say something to the sorry excuse for parents that poor kid must have. And if I had, would i be labeled a troublemaker or a rabble rouser? And if I was, would i give a shit?

Go Rollie Go

Go Rollie Go
Originally uploaded by killmylandlord.

Uncle Mark was nice enough to bring his fancypants camera to Rollie's game last Saturday. This was especially nice, because Todd had gone down to Auburn for the LSU debacle, and I had both Tiller and Rollie for the weekend, a slight wine hangover from my Ya Ya Sisterhood house party on Friday night, and a cooler full of soccer snacks in tow for the game. Lisa and Mark brought Dash, and Mark watched Tills while Lisa and I sat with Dash and cheered for the Cheetah.

Yes, you heard me right: The Cheetah. That is what we overheard someone calling Rollie during the game. Except when we heard it at first, we just thought it was some Yankee calling him a cheater, and . . . well, them's fightin' words.

Okay, i didn't get in a fight, but you pretty much could see it happening, right? I would be the first Soccer Mom kicked off the fields this season for defending her five year old's honor after another parent called him a cheater. Except they were saying Cheetah. As in "boy, that kid's fast."

Anyway, here is a great shot of Rollie breaking away from the pack and headed for the goal. Not that it matters, because THEY DON'T KEEP SCORE. Yes, this drives me crazy.

Complete tangent: Not as crazy as the middle school kids at a private school where a good friend of mine teaches. These kids don't have "Field Day" they have . . . get this . . .

PERSONAL RECORD DAY.

Yep? Why teach middle school kids about gracious winning and losing, when everyone can just compete against themselves? That's JUST like the real world. Don't worry about your score on that SAT!

What the fuck are we coming to? Ridiculous.

Back on track: So, here is my kid, playing in his 2nd ever soccer game. I have some pics from the first game, and video too (highly comical - Wrong Way Corrigans, crying, standing around staring at the ball and not kicking it), but none of them came out as well as this one. Oh, and yeah, there is a shot of me and sis watching the game, but it ain't pretty and it ain' goin' on my blog; I have some dignity.

Thanks again, Uncle Mark.

"The Stadium is Worse Than Bonkers!"

This is kind of a sad day for me as a Bulldog fan. Tonight is the first game in my lifetime that won't be called by Larry Munson.

This article is a good overview of his career, and includes some of his greatest calls. My first recollection of Larry calling a game was about 1984. I remember it like it was yesterday. I was twelve years old and it was a cold and rainy day in Georgia. I played soccer on Saturdays at the Roswell soccer fields. By high school, we would call these fields and their parking, just off the high school campus, "The Water Tower." As in, "meet me at the Water Tower," or the more exciting, "Fight at the Water Tower after school today." Good times. I think we were waiting for my game to begin, sitting in the warmth and dryness of mom's red station wagon. I'm not sure if Lisa was there, and I have no idea where Dad was, but Mom and I listened intently to Larry's voice on the radio as the cold rain poured down.

"So we'll try to kick one a hundred thousand miles. We're holding it on our own 49-and-a-half ... gonna try to kick it sixty yards plus a foot-and-a-half ... and Butler kicked a long one ... a long one ... Oh my God! Oh my God! ... The stadium is worse than bonkers!" - calling Kevin Butler's field goal in the final seconds to win over Clemson in 1984"

You would have to know my mom to have any idea of the response this elicited from her; Words cannot do it justice.

I know a man needs to settle down, but Larry will be missed.

Afternoon Surprise

Not to be confused with Afternoon Delight.

My sister was bummed out about various life stuff and so she came over to destress. Why you would come to the home of two kids under four to destress, I have no idea, but she is a strange cookie.

Anyway, I never even ate breakfast, and then she had me convinced that I should drink a margarita with her, before I had even had lunch. She really had to twist my arm. Ended up having lunch, two margaritas, and hanging out all afternoon in the backyard with the kids, and the two dogs. (She brought her new pup, and once again, I forgot to snap a picture of her.)

The best part was kicking the soccer ball with Rollie. When you have a baby, you just never really let it sink in that they will grow up, start talking, and be able to kick a soccer ball with you in the backyard. It was a little surreal - Just me and the boy, kicking the ball back and forth and talking and laughing.

Might have been the margaritas, but I think it was more that he is just growing into such a nice little boy. Into someone that in twenty five years or so, I might actually be friends with.