Poor Sportsmanship Part II

I hope that what I'm about to tell dismays you. If you are a parent (particularly of a young child), I hope your reaction is one of disbelief and disgust. I sincerely hope you all share the anger and disappointment I'm feeling right now ... 

Webster's defines "forfeit" as "To lose or lose the right to as a punishment for an error, offense, or crime".

Last night, after our game, the league commissioner reluctantly approached our head coach and told him that some of the remaining teams on our schedule had decided to forfeit rather than play us. You read that correctly. At least two other teams have decided to take a lose, to quit, to give up, to not permit their children to play a game they love, because, well, I guess because they figure our Diamondbacks will beat them, and, honestly ... I just don't understand in the least how they came to this decision.

What error, offense or crime have the kids on those teams (or ours) made to deserve this punishment? How are the coaches and parents going to explain to their players there's no need to put on their uniform and head to the field, because the adults have decided to forfeit?

By the way, I've watched the other teams all season. They have fun on the bench. They try their hardest. After the game they line up and perform the traditional "good game" hand slap with smiles on their faces before heading off to enjoy snacks. I'm guessing none of them felt unworthy or lacking. At least not until their coaches and parents tell them they can't play us, because they think it's better to give up. 

But what if the kids themselves have said they don't want to face the Diamondbacks again? Well, that seems like a perfect teaching moment to me.

Forfeiting is not, as the WBA mission statement reads, "using the sport of baseball as an instrument ... to help all the young players develop positive character traits and values that will aid success in the rest of their lives." 

Quitting is not "working with parents to provide a proper environment for learning the game of baseball, the WBA program also strives to assist in developing the qualities of citizenship, discipline, teamwork and physical well-being by advocating the virtues of character, courage, sportsmanship and loyalty."

Now some of you may think their decision is a little thing to get worked up over. After all, it's just a bunch of 7-8 year old kids playing baseball, and to a small degree I understand that (although I'm very sad for our boys who may be deprived of playing out the season). Yet I can't help but think how this attitude from parents is shaping the next generation. I mean, nothing says success like being a quitter, right? And certainly nothing builds those character traits quite like walking away when things don't go your way.

I believe these parents are doing a huge disservice to their kids. I shudder to think of the other life lessons that are being "taught" in their households. What life skills are these kids learning?

My sister and I were raised to never, ever quit. Not on ourselves, our family, or our team. Since we are talking sports, allow me to share this memory. We were at the 1986 Orange Bowl where my beloved Penn State football team got walloped by the Oklahoma Sooners. Hearing the cheers of the Sooner fans and knowing there was no chance of a win made me want to leave the game early. But my parents refused. They told me that you always support your team, you never give up. There were many other lessons during my childhood that reinforced the same message, illustrated by their words and actions, and I credit my upbringing - and my determination to endure many challenges throughout my adulthood - to my parent's teachings. 

I feel for the players on these teams. They have parents who don't believe in their ability to persevere. They have coaches who aren't showing them the fundamentals of success in athletics or life. I wonder to what extent their futures will be negatively impacted by that lack, and how our society will fare when these same youngsters are adults. I suppose, that in a few years, our Diamondback boys will again be leading the way, and for that at least, I'm grateful.

#Dbacks4life

We heard it again last night. We hear it a lot.

"Your team is too good". "No one wants to play the Diamondbacks". "Oh, we know all about your team". "It's not right that their players can throw out a runner from the outfield". "But they make double plays!". "Well, we have mostly 1st graders on our team". "They hit too well". "It's not fair". "They shouldn't be allowed to play together". 

I've tried to let the season-long comments roll off my back. Sure, the moms might gather briefly and blow off steam talking about it, but we put smiles on our faces in front of our players and get ready for the next game.

But you know what? I'm mad. Really disappointed. And sad.

Why is it OK for these parents to talk this way about a bunch of kids who work hard, play fair, and win? We always play by the rules, our coaching staff makes sure each player gets a chance at every position, and as a group we support the league in all of it's efforts.

We practice several times a week as a team ... throwing drills, batting practice, and outfield work for two hours or more.  When it's cold we bundle up and practice. When it's raining, we chip in and rent a batting cage. When it's misty or muggy or muddy, we don't complain - we practice. And each of these kids practice a good amount at home; some also participate in clinics or Fall Ball. They work hard to be good ball players, and they are.

As current members of the Diamondbacks, we are very lucky that at some point in our time in Little League we were each placed on a team with Sean Moran, our head coach. For us, it was Owen's second year of t-ball on the White Sox. Our league bylaws allow parents to request a certain coach up to the Minor League level, and we have all done so. The majority of players on the 2015 Diamondback team have been together for three years now. I applaud the commissioners for upholding the rules and permitting that to happen (of course, they got complaints about it).

Bob and I chose to stay with Sean because he is an excellent coach and leader. He teaches baseball fundamentals and he teaches them well. In addition, he stresses healthy competition, sportsmanship and personal responsibility - all values we teach at home too. Plus he cares for our kids as individuals; he likes them, he encourages them. Sean expects a lot from his parents and his players, and though there have been times I've grumbled when I've heard his familiar call "parents, grab your gloves and line up" during practice, I appreciate it. He works hard to be a great coach, and he is. I'm forever grateful our paths crossed.

The parents of this team are also outstanding people that I genuinely like and respect. They support all the kids and the Diamondbacks one hundred percent. They show up for each and every practice, ready to help. They drill with their kids at home. They come to games - 45 minutes early so the kids can stretch and take batting practice - and cheer for every player. They applaud good plays by the opposing team and make sure their kids do the same. I'm so thankful I've become friends with all of them and I'll cherish that always.

I was thinking of all these things last night as I tried to sleep, upset that I was allowing other parent's negative words to crowd out the happiness of another solid Diamondback win. So, here's what I'd like to say to the five mothers and fathers who wrote some of the above comments to the league commission after our game last Saturday; and to the many others who have been complaining about us from the beginning of the season:

Do you realize how hard our kids work? Have you even considered that? Hours of hitting, fielding and throwing. Our coaches teach game situations every single practice; so yes, we are going to catch pop-ups and make double plays, and throw your runners out at second and home.

Next time you want to whine about the Diamondbacks, ask yourself if you take a glove to practice, if you've manned a hitting station for an hour, if you toss your kids pop-ups over and over. If your coaches seem overwhelmed or unorganized, try to help. Almost every dad on our team does.

Your team plays us twice a season. Yep, we will most likely beat you. We are that good. We work at it and our kids have earned every single win. And, by the way, last year, when we were also undefeated, our entire team was 1st graders, two of whom had to try-out for the commissioners because they were actually younger than the age usually allowed.

Instead of putting our kids down, why don't you lift your kids up? Rather than writing a nasty email, why don't you go outside and play catch with your kid? At the Instructional Level, every hitter should be able to make contact with a soft toss pitch. If your child can't - or doesn't even know which side of the plate to stand on - whose responsibility is that?

At Saturday's game, when our players give your team a "Good Game cheer" at the end (but never get one in return), or take a knee when someone is injured, or shout encouragement to their teammates, take a look at your dugout. Do you have team moms or other parents helping the kids with batting helmets? Keeping them focused on the game? Applauding for good plays on the field?

Most importantly, how about teaching your children that the way to succeed in baseball - and life - is to work hard. That sitting around saying things are unfair doesn't change anything, and makes you a loser in more ways than one. That even if you get knocked down, you get back up and try again. Those are the lessons that will last far beyond little league baseball and ones that I'm proud our kids are learning. 

I'm a Diamondback Mom. And I'm proud of our players, our coaches, and our parents.

Happy Mothers Day 2015

A few weeks ago Owen and I were snuggling before bedtime. Having just read an article about the kinds of questions adopted kids might be pondering at his age, I decided to do a "check-in", and casually asked him if there was anything about his adoption he wanted to talk about. He thought a minute or two, and then said, "No, but I'd like to see that picture of my birth mom now" (you might want to reread here).

So I found the key and combo and opened the safe. I pulled out the familiar navy blue folder and brought it back to bed. First I showed Owen his Kazakh passport (which he thought was pretty cool and wondered if could double as a driver's license), then some of the other records we have of his birth.

"OK Mom, but where's that picture?"

I'm not going to pretend I wasn't a little nervous. I wasn't sure what other questions Owen might ask, or how I'd answer them. I wasn't even sure how I'd feel watching my baby look at his first mom's face. But it was time.

I handed him the single sheet containing a photocopy of his mother's country ID. He peered at it, turned to look at me, then gazed at it again.

"What are you thinking Owen?".

Silence.

"Hmmm. Not what I was expecting". And with that he handed the paper back to me and curled into my arms.

We talked a bit more about her. Her name, her age, the tiny village that was her home. We talked about her eyes and hair, and how Owen must look more like his bio father. We talked a little more about things that are Owen's to share - or not. He was fine, ready for sleep, my little boy. And as I exhaled and carefully tucked everything back in the safe, I renewed my silent promise to his first mom.

I will always praise her to Owen. I will make sure he knows about her, and respects her. I will always answer any question as best I can, and if the day comes that he wants to seek her out, I will help him do that. After all, having a first mother doesn't make me any less his mom.

Happy Mother's Day to ALL moms, all the world over.

Musings on What Matters

Tuesday night at Owen's baseball game. Two on, two out with one of our best hitters at bat and Owen on deck. Floating over the cheers of the spectators, the instructions of the coaches, I hear one of our players say, "Hey guys, what happens if Owen gets up with bases loaded?".

This boy is young. He may not have meant his words to sound, as they did, mocking or cruel. Owen is not one of the best hitters on the team, and everyone realizes that. Luckily I don't think Owen heard the comment, preoccupied as he was taking practice swings. If he did, he shrugged it off; he's a pretty tough kid. But my heart twisted as I looked across at the player's laughing face.

The Dali Lama said, "My religion is very simple. My religion is kindness".  Proverbs 3.3 reads "Do not let kindness and truth leave you, bind them around your neck, write them on the tablet of your heart" and Ephesians 4.32 commands "Be kind to one another". "Be kind, for whenever kindness becomes part of something, it beautifies it", wrote Mohammad. Mother Theresa had a few wise words to say about kindness too.

Being kind is my personal creed, and I'm obviously not the first (or kindest) to feel this way. It really encompasses all the good stuff  - love, respect, faith, gratitude. I hope that at the end of my life, people will remember me as kind.

Up until the snows of winter faded and cracked it, I had a magnet (a sweet gift from my friend Le Anne) on my car that read "Kindness Matters". I put it on Owen's door, and we often repeated it while loading up, and talked about how to be kind as we drove about town. Kindness - to everyone, to everything - is the biggest lesson I try to teach Owen.

Practicing kindness doesn't take money, or special talent, or hours of time. You don't have to agree with someone to be kind; you don't even have to like someone to be kind. Being kind can build a bridge between all races and religions.

For Owen, I make kindness simple: it's helping a classmate, or feeding a stray cat. It's listening to your grandparent tell a story - even if you've heard it already. Kindness is donating food or clothing to those who need it, writing thank you notes, and allowing Avery to sit next to the window on the bus (we are still working on that one). Kindness is making the choice not to say mean things about others; and being nice to the neighborhood "bully", because maybe he just needs some extra love. Kindness is trying to put a smile on someone's face.

Oh, that baseball game? Owen did get up with the bases loaded. He hit a single and drove in two runs. And his teammates were kind.