Posted by TMW on May 5, 2008, 10:46 pm
Board Administrator
The Following Post Deals with the Idaho Kids' State Freestyle Tournament...
C’Mon parents, we’ve got to do better.
When I say, “We” I don’t mean it in the same tone as the doctor who asks, “How are WE doing today?” Nope, I mean “We” in the most literal sense—that is to say, myself included.
So what is it that “We” have to do? We need to be better role models for those who are competing in that most unforgiving of circles. For better or worse, they are a reflection of what we are doing at the circle’s edge and beyond.
After about an hour into the Greco tournament on Friday, I was tired. The lateness of the season, the tantrums of the athletes, the obnoxious parents who often stood just behind even more obnoxious coaches…Well, they made me tired.
Saturday? Exhausted. I was exhausted by all the aforementioned reasons on Friday which carried over to Saturday and go ahead and throw onto that heap my own son’s tantrum. He screamed something and raced off the mat after the ref called the pin. Sure, I could spin his behavior another way and babble on about how intense he is and how he hates losing. Alexander Karelin and Dan Gable probably hated losing, too but when they did lose, they didn’t have to be reprimanded by a coach from Bonneville and walked back to the mat. I am glad the Bonneville coach caught him, I am glad he reprimanded him. I am glad he walked him back to the mat. He did it gently and professionally. My son’s glad that I am not the one who caught him. I have no idea who that guy was but if you know him, tell him thanks from me and then maybe give him a hug and buy him lunch from my son. Sure, Gable and Karelin are adults and have learned to harness that seething, white hot hate for losing. My son is nine and has not learned such feats of self control—but he will or he will not step on to that mat again. He will learn by watching others, he will learn by putting winning and losing into perspective, and he will learn by recognizing how uncontrolled emotion can sabotage his chances of competing with focus. He’s nine years old and he will learn.
For those adults at this “kids” tournament, the learning will be more of a challenge (our brain, like our bones, hardens with time and would rather break then bend.) When the true value of this great sport is distilled to its very essence, it is a sport that puts a premium on accountability. Unforgiving accountability.
It’s one thing to get beat in any sport but it’s a whole other world to get beaten physically in a one-on-one contest. Proof? Sure go to the local little league game or soccer game or basketball game and watch the kids who lose. A few are downcast, fewer, if any, are crying. Now watch those same athletes at a youth wrestling tournament. I can promise you a different disposition following a match. Yes, there will be tears. That is the essence of the sport. Accountability. Our sport sometimes reveals the rudest of truths—but when viewed under the right lens, these rude truths are often provide the greatest lessons. Lessons you will not find in any other sport. Unfortunately the lens was a bit on the myopic side last Friday and Saturday.
How myopic?
How about those coaches whose wrestler didn’t seem to know any turn beyond a half nelson and since he couldn’t get that they sat at the circle’s edge screaming for him to bounce the other kid’s head off the mat. Later in the tournament I was approached by a coach who asked if I noticed it. Sure I did. It was my kid getting his head bounced off the mat. Maybe they just don’t know any better, I offered. I was wrong. Later, I was standing at the circle’s edge when the same kid made his way into the ring to wrestle another kid. His coach grabbed him by the arm and with a steely gaze and a snarl advised, “Remember pain before pin!” I had flashbacks to the All-Valley Championships in Karate Kid (Part I) when the puffed-up, arm-crossing, tight-black-shirt-wearing bully coach from Cobra Kai instructed his student to, “Sweep the foot.” Where’s Mr. Miyagi when you need him?
Over on Mat 5 we had what seemed to be one kid’s entire family tree at mat side, swinging from the branches, celebrating what apparently was the species’ lone victory. To paraphrase Vince Lombardi, When you score a touchdown, don’t act like it was the first one you’ve ever scored. While I am sure (not confidently) that all members of the clan had opposable thumbs, they were lacking for hearing, not once recognizing the repeated pleas for parents to be up in the stands. Of course, we should recognize a child’s solid effort but within reason. Remember that there is another little boy on the mat who just lost. Losing hurts. When the victory celebration becomes excessive, I cannot think of a single lesson that can be gained from such situations—other than the one I pointed out to my son from across the gym, ‘That’s exactly what you don’t do.”
And across all the mats, the same half dozen coaches who repeatedly confronted the ref or the scorekeeper. I know, I know they’re “Intense” and they “Hate, just hate losing.” Well, if pounding the mat, yelling at kids, and shaking a finger at teenaged refs is the height of intensity than these guys are truly the pinnacle of our sport. Move over Tom Brands, we have Coach Al from Two-Dot, Idaho, who wants to talk to you about “Bringin’ it!” Excuse me for a minute…I need to clean the puke off my keyboard.
While none of these examples were the rule—they certainly weren’t the exception either. And maybe juxtapositioned against a group of people who were working very hard to run a first class event, their behavior was magnified. Still…the parents taking the sport far too serious will ultimately cost more than they will ever contribute. Presently, they poison the atmosphere enough to push other kids out of the sport and eventually their own kids will never follow through on the sport. The coaches who treat the kids’ tournament like it is a gold medal match in Bejing have not only forgotten what it is like to be a kid but have failed to do what we coaches must do first and foremost—teach our kids about effort and about winning and losing with dignity. Wrestling, like any sport, must be fun. I know that not everyone engaged in such behavior—ultimately though if a non-wrestling individual had walked the length of that gym floor, I can assure you the indictment would be a collective one.
By the way, I am far from anointing myself as the sport’s Beacon of Hope. I have been coaching for twenty years and flinch with embarrassment when I think back on some of my behavior—and I don’t have to reflect back too far, including Butte about a month ago. I should have been kicked out of the tournament. I won't make that mistake again.
We can do better.
Some Hard and Fast Suggestions:
1. Shorten the season by a minimum of two weeks. The hard-core kids are still competing in May but we lose too many of the other kids.
2. Put non-wrestling parents on the floor to handle security. We are a close-knit community and will make allowances for friends or friends-of-friends. We need people who are not emotionally involved.
3. Require fifteen minute refresher course for all coaches, reminding them of the sports' true spirit and the lessons it has to offer--both of which are swallowed up by those coaches and parents whose egos are looking for a second-chance.
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