Michelle, this is a very meaningful post! It speaks volumes about how our outlook can shape our behaviour. As the Dalai Lama has said, "my religion is kindness."
I'd like to share a bit about the experiences I had as a baseball coach, back in the 70's. I live in Vancouver, Canada, which meant that baseball had little of the parental involvment - both physically or emotionally - that hockey does. Most parents didn't know the game very well, and were content to cheer their little ones on, rather than pressure them in any way. They were glad to be in the bleachers on warm nights, watching their kids play.
Early on, I drew upon my own experiences playing baseball when I was young. I knew that coaches who focused on winning at all costs tended to favour the more gifted athletes on the team, and the also-rans were ignored. I tried to swim upstream. At the beginning of the season, I asked each kid privately which position they dreamed of playing - where did their fantasy reside on the field. Some wanted to pitch, some to play infield and so on. Too often, the kids who didn't catch the coach's eye were put in the outfield for a few innings, and then rode the bench for most of the game. They were often bored silly, and didn't look forward to the games.
I explained to the team that I could set our lineup in the traditional way, or I could let kids live out their dreams on the field and in practices. I cautioned them that we wouldn't necessarily win many games, but everyone might have more fun. I asked them to decide. Every season was the same, the kids said let everyone have a chance at their "secret" wish. I started this with the 8 year olds, and continued it to the middle school years, until I stopped coaching.
Yes, we lost a lot of games, kids made mistakes, our star players weren't always in their best positions. But one year, in a single knockout tournament to end the season, we inexplicably went undefeated and won the league trophy, which each player got to keep in their home for a week.
I should mention that the other coaches in the league, who took winning far more seriously than I did, called me "the commie coach", and I was viewed suspiciously.
Our season always ended in a backyard party, where kids were welcome to "make your own sundae", and could gorge on ice cream and toppings. Invariably, a few kids wound up vomiting in the shrubbery. But a good time was had by all!
I love the way your mind works, and how in one sentence (the one that starts, "Setting boundaries can be healthy") you expressed so cleanly and clearly something I've been thinking about and tussling with for quite some time.
And then there's this: As I was reading, I started to feel a little bad that I haven't participated in team sports since junior high. But then, suddenly, a realization. I've always felt a connection between improvised music and skiing (the sport I have the most experience with). But reading this column I suddenly understood that improvised music is my team sport. And I don't think the absence of an opposing team changes that. The benefits you describe are the same, because we're all "work[ing] through internal and external challenges, to find and exercise [our] strengths," toward "learning to put self-expression in service to the collective."
Bro! Thanks for your comments here. You know, I thought about making an explicit connection to improvised music in this piece, especially since our family is all up in jazz as well. But then I decided to leave it open. I'm happy you made the connection.
Love this post. Your boy is growing into a terrific person—good parenting shows up that way. Thanks for giving me another way to (not) process the election.
Love it, Michelle!
Thanks for reading, Lisa. Happy holidays to you and yours!
Michelle, this is a very meaningful post! It speaks volumes about how our outlook can shape our behaviour. As the Dalai Lama has said, "my religion is kindness."
I'd like to share a bit about the experiences I had as a baseball coach, back in the 70's. I live in Vancouver, Canada, which meant that baseball had little of the parental involvment - both physically or emotionally - that hockey does. Most parents didn't know the game very well, and were content to cheer their little ones on, rather than pressure them in any way. They were glad to be in the bleachers on warm nights, watching their kids play.
Early on, I drew upon my own experiences playing baseball when I was young. I knew that coaches who focused on winning at all costs tended to favour the more gifted athletes on the team, and the also-rans were ignored. I tried to swim upstream. At the beginning of the season, I asked each kid privately which position they dreamed of playing - where did their fantasy reside on the field. Some wanted to pitch, some to play infield and so on. Too often, the kids who didn't catch the coach's eye were put in the outfield for a few innings, and then rode the bench for most of the game. They were often bored silly, and didn't look forward to the games.
I explained to the team that I could set our lineup in the traditional way, or I could let kids live out their dreams on the field and in practices. I cautioned them that we wouldn't necessarily win many games, but everyone might have more fun. I asked them to decide. Every season was the same, the kids said let everyone have a chance at their "secret" wish. I started this with the 8 year olds, and continued it to the middle school years, until I stopped coaching.
Yes, we lost a lot of games, kids made mistakes, our star players weren't always in their best positions. But one year, in a single knockout tournament to end the season, we inexplicably went undefeated and won the league trophy, which each player got to keep in their home for a week.
I should mention that the other coaches in the league, who took winning far more seriously than I did, called me "the commie coach", and I was viewed suspiciously.
Our season always ended in a backyard party, where kids were welcome to "make your own sundae", and could gorge on ice cream and toppings. Invariably, a few kids wound up vomiting in the shrubbery. But a good time was had by all!
Terry, I love this approach to coaching! Thanks for sharing.
I love the way your mind works, and how in one sentence (the one that starts, "Setting boundaries can be healthy") you expressed so cleanly and clearly something I've been thinking about and tussling with for quite some time.
And then there's this: As I was reading, I started to feel a little bad that I haven't participated in team sports since junior high. But then, suddenly, a realization. I've always felt a connection between improvised music and skiing (the sport I have the most experience with). But reading this column I suddenly understood that improvised music is my team sport. And I don't think the absence of an opposing team changes that. The benefits you describe are the same, because we're all "work[ing] through internal and external challenges, to find and exercise [our] strengths," toward "learning to put self-expression in service to the collective."
Thank you, bro.
Bro! Thanks for your comments here. You know, I thought about making an explicit connection to improvised music in this piece, especially since our family is all up in jazz as well. But then I decided to leave it open. I'm happy you made the connection.
Great one, Merc!
Thanks, Eug. You know I want to read your Substack.
Love this post. Your boy is growing into a terrific person—good parenting shows up that way. Thanks for giving me another way to (not) process the election.
Thanks, Peggy. Happy to give you something else to occupy you for a few minutes.