When Your Kid Isn't Being Played

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You’re miserable.

You feel helpless.

Helpless to help.

Maybe you’ve invested a lot of money. In lessons, equipment, fees.

You’ve certainly invested lots of time.

You want your son to be happy; you want your daughter to feel successful.

You took time off work. You traveled all the way here to watch your kid play.

You bought a ticket.

You’re here, sitting in the cold stadium, the stinky gym, standing by the pool . . . you back hurting from the lousy bench seats.

But there he sits, on the sideline. Dejected, she knows she’s her number won’t get called. Like a sailboat without wind, you feel helpless, too.

You don’t want to be one of “those parents”, the kind that buddy up to the coach (or worse, consistently badger, cajole and lecture) so your kids gets treated “more special” than the others.

You’re sure other parents must do that. Sitting there spectating with them you’ve learned what they’re like.

Your son is just as fast, your daughter just as gifted, as their kid. Why does their kid play all the time, and yours doesn’t?

OK. Maybe your kid isn’t the Most Talented on the team, but surely he deserves to play a little; would it kill anyone to put her in for a few moments?

Is it your fault?

Have you not given your child the same opportunities?

Is your kid not as talented, as special, as you thought?

You feel bad for your daughter; you feel like you’ve let your son down.

You want to do something.

Say something.

To fight for your child.

But whom will you talk to?

You can’t say anything to your athlete. You know he works hard; that anything you could possible say will only make her feel worse about not playing.

You’re afraid to talk to the coach. You think that if he liked your son he’d be getting more playing time; if she recognized what you see in your daughter, surely she’d be in the game.

You’re convinced that if you said anything to the coach, it surely wouldn't help your child, anyway.

Stupid coach would probably make you feel small, like you're out of touch or unrealistic or don't know the game . . .

Or take it out on your kid, perhaps just to make a point.

What would that accomplish?

So you sit.

No ideas.

Baffled and with no recourse.

You’re only prayer is that your child will somehow make it through; to live to play another day.

So you try to stay positive.

You smile.

You cheer for the team.

Win or lose, you thank the coach for his time. You appreciate the positive things she does.

You show your child that you love him, whether he plays or not.

Through example you teach her that there’s no use getting upset over things which you have no control.

Tomorrow you’ll go out and play catch with him. At dinner tonight you’ll have her teach you about her sport.

Even if you’re not good.

Even if you already know the answers to the questions.

And you’ll do it not because you want to make that coach regret not playing your son.

You’ll do it because you love her.

You’ll do it because it’s fun to play; it's fun to spend time together.

You’ll do it because one of the most important lessons to learn from sports is that when life refuses to give you the chance you deserve, you’re not down, you’re not out.

You can still smile and be thankful for the gifts you’ve been given.

Even if the coach, or the teacher, or the employer, doesn’t know you’re gifted, you do.

And so do the people that love you.




(c) 2009 Dave Johnston