We Are Proud of You
I’ve come to see the yelling parents at sports games as a metaphor for the messages we give in the game of life.
Recently, I’ve been a spectator at my sons’ playoff sports games. This past weekend, I traveled to Fort Worth to watch the state lacrosse semifinal games. I found a seat in the stands for my 1 pm game as the previous game was finishing up.
As the final buzzer sounded, I saw some of the high school boys on the losing team sitting or lying on the field, hands over their faces or heads on their knees, their disappointment palpable as their dreams for a state championship dissolved.
The parents and fans of the winning team were going wild, cheering and clapping and taking photos of their happy, sweaty players. They chattered excitedly as they walked off, making plans for the state championship game next weekend.
The losing parents sat quietly, absorbing their loss. They watched their sons and brothers and grandsons congratulate the other team and gather their bags. The mood was pretty morose as they realized their season was over.
Suddenly, a mom from the losing team stepped forward into the silence and began a chant. Initially, it was just her lone voice, but soon the other parents joined. “We are proud of you. Say, we are proud of you. We are proud of you. Say, we are proud of you.”
Of course I had tears in my eyes, as I often do these days. I am not a sporty person. I am, in fact, terrible at sports. I love watching my sons play, but I am otherwise at best a fair weather fan. But I have grown to appreciate the life lessons that youth sports teach.
I’ve been to dozens of youth sports games this year alone, and I’ve been listening to and observing what parents yell at their kids during games. I’ve noticed that how we behave at our kids’ sports games is a metaphor for life and for parenting. And we all have our own style — yelling or muttering, supportive or angry.
I hear so many voices from the crowds — even other parents yelling out for my own kids — and I’ve wondered how much the kids hear from the field. My youngest son told me recently he “only listens for dad’s voice” in the noise from the baseball stands.
Whether they are in a tennis game, a swim meet, a track meet, a basketball game or the penultimate game of life, they just keep playing and we just keep parenting. I do think it matters, though, what our kids hear as instructions and encouragement and disapproval come flying at them during the game.
Keep your eye on the ball. Catch it. Throw it. Now you’ve seen it. Now you’re ready. Get ‘em, Jack! Run faster. Slow down. Slide! Scoop it. Push him out. Get the ball. Wheels! Wait for your pitch. Do something! What was that!? Don’t let ‘em get to you. MOVE!!!
Our Little League has a requirement that one parent attend a Positive Coaching Alliance talk at the beginning of each season. I recommend the book by Jim Thompson, Positive Sports Parenting, for any parent who has a kid playing sports.
One of the best things I remember learning is that the time to talk to your kid about a game is not right after the game. If your child played well, they are proud. If they didn’t, they know the errors they made. Same goes when they fail an assignment. Or have a fender bender. Or miss a deadline. In those moments, our presence is more important than our instruction.
Sitting in the stands, I’ve heard parents berate and belittle their kids to the point that I worry what the child hears behind closed doors if he’s spoken to so harshly in public.
I’ve been annoyed with a mom who made ambulance sounds and ran up and down the sidelines. I’ve whipped my head around to see who’s chirping at their kid constantly. Today I heard someone say, “I know I’m loud. I’m just so proud of him,” and that made me smile.
I know some parents who have to sit off to the side to control their tongues. Some who get worked up and pace. And some (like me) who observe it all from a distance.
A mom that annoyed me recently had a giant photo of her son’s face. As that face passed by me, I saw a teen with confidence in his eyes and a smile on his face. Because of my job as a pediatrician, though, I know what these kids go through, what could be behind that smile.
I know adolescents have been increasingly depressed and anxious. Some have struggled with suicidality or body image or self-harm. Some have been failing classes or are battling addictions. Some struggle with feelings of self-worth or are in between friend groups. Some are lonely, or their families are falling apart.
Knowing all that, I can give some grace to all of us yelling moms and dads. Mostly we’re doing the best we can. And maybe only we know what our kids have overcome to get where they are. Maybe only we know what it’s going to take for them to pick themselves up off the ground one more time. And one more time again.
Through it all, win or lose, most of us just want our kids to do their best and have fun. When they win, they get to hold the trophy up proudly and take a bow. But I think even more importantly, when they lose, they have to take their head off their knees, stand up, and take one, and then two, and then three steps forward to get back in the game.
Learning to win gracefully and learning to lose without defeat of the soul — these are the life lessons that will stay with my kids long after I’m not there to cheer from the sidelines.
I’m not really a yeller at games, but there is one person I want to be at every game of life I’m ever in. That’s the mom who had her chin up and shoulders back and loudly led the cheer for her son and his losing team.
We are proud of you. Say, we are proud of you. We are proud of you. Say, we are proud of you.
The advice and opinions herein are by no means meant to be a substitute for professional medical advice. Please contact your personal physician, mental health provider or health care professional for medical advice. Opinions are my own.