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Family Daze Good sports grab the ball, do what comes naturallyBY DEBBIE FARMER
I enrolled my 3-year-old son in a beginning athletic program for preschoolers to introduce him to various popular sports. I figured it would teach him good sportsmanship skills, team cooperation and physical discipline--and also make him tired enough to take a two-hour nap. I couldn't wait for it to begin.
On the first day of class, my husband and I brought our son onto the field to meet his teammates, who were practicing line drives down centerfield.
"Maybe he'll be another Babe Ruth or Willie Mays," my husband said. "And earn an athletic scholarship to an Ivy League college and go on to make millions while becoming a baseball legend!"
The coach introduced himself and handed my son a baseball mitt. He considered it for a moment then put it on his head like a jaunty little cap.
"This week we're going to learn about T-ball," the coach said. "We'll take turns catching, throwing, and hitting. Understand?"
"Yes, sir!" my husband shouted.
My son sat down on the grass with the mitt over his eyes. While I tried to coax him to play, my husband decided to set a good example by participating in the activities.
By the end of the game he'd hit two home runs, pitched a no-hitter, and learned how to slide into home plate. He staggered to the car after the game and collapsed in the seat.
The next week, the coach introduced flag football. My son looked excited as the coach tucked a colored scarf into his belt.
"The object is to get the ball to the end zone," the coach explained, "but if your flag is taken, you must freeze."
"This is more like it," my husband said as our son ran through the field. "I had a hunch our son was meant to be a professional quarterback."
My son gathered as many flags as he could and stuffed them into his belt. Then he ran across the field toward the play equipment, looking more like a big, bright windsock than like a football player.
I tried to lure him back as my husband made three touchdowns and kicked a field goal. His teammates took their thumbs out of their mouths long enough to give him a high-five after the game.
The next week the coach focused on field hockey. The children had to hit a ball between two cones with a stick. My husband beamed as our son grabbed a stick and swung at the ball, the air and the orange cones marking the goal: "See, he's improving."
Just as I was about to agree, he threw down the stick, put a cone on his head and galloped across the field like a unicorn possessed.
By the final lesson, I knew my son had more chance of winning the grand prize in a magazine sweepstakes than a sports scholarship. "This just isn't working out," I told the coach.
"What do you mean?" the coach asked. "His self-esteem has improved, his fast ball is major league quality and he's scored the winning points for his team in hockey."
"Yes, it's done wonders for my husband," I said, "but I'm not sure what it's doing for my son."
The coach looked at me. "You'd be surprised," he said.
Then he divided the children into teams for soccer. They practiced kicking the ball while my son tossed it into the air. It would've been just as effective to send my son to play in the park wearing a pair of plastic cones, a colored flag and a baseball mitt.
Then the coach gently guided him to the goal. "Stand here and catch any ball that comes your way," he said simply.
Suddenly the ball flew toward him and he reached out and caught it.
"Touchdown!" he shouted as his teammates cheered and gave him a high-five. When I saw his face, I knew the coach was right. He looked happy and proud--and just as surprised as I was.
Readers can contact Debbie Farmer at debbie@ecis.com.
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Saratoga, California Since 1975
