Rookie Seasoning
Written By Richard D. Ginsburg
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How does a child succeed at sports? By having fun. What about training and discipline? That's what the parents need.
A few months ago, as my 2-year-old and I were tossing a Nerf football back and forth in the yard, he let fly a perfect spiral pass. I'm not exaggerating (much). My pride was almost too big to contain. Not many kids his age can throw the ball with such a nice, tight spin on it, I thought. He's really coordinated. Must be gifted.
Visions of the boy's decorated college career rushed into my head. A two-sport athlete, Big Man on Campus, he was destined to become Mr. All-American. The only question: Would his two sports be soccer and lacrosse, the ones I played in college 150 years ago? Or would he be a Division 1 gymnast like his mother? Then I caught myself — Teddy wasn't even Big Man in Preschool yet.
I've worked with lots of children in my practice as a clinical psychologist specializing in sports. I've seen the damage done when parents heap their own dreams and expectations on their kids. Yet here I was experiencing it from the parents' side. The excitement of seeing my son throw like a pro had distracted me from the simple pleasure of playing with him in the backyard. My naive fatherly fantasy — me, the dad of a future all-star? — had violated a major tenet of healthy sports parenting: The game is not about us, it's about them.
If you're sitting there saying, "Duh," wait until you're the parent the game is not about. It's so easy to get swept up in the home runs, goals, and touchdowns that you lose sight of what's really important for a young child: the physical exercise, the fresh air, the parent-and-child time, and, oh yeah, the fun. So rather than let things spiral out of control in my backyard, I've begun regularly reminding myself of a few things.
1. Our Dreams Are Not Our Children's Dreams
We have such a strong connection with our children that at times it's as if we're the ones out there on the field. When they strike out, we strike out. When they make a great catch, we feel the same excitement we would if we'd made the catch ourselves. This may seem innocent and even sweet, but it can make our kids feel crowded and self-conscious.
I remember meeting with a girl I'll call Sally who, as she approached her fifth birthday, had been playing tennis for a year and was showing promise. Her father was rushing home from work every afternoon to practice with her or take her to lessons or matches. This puzzled Sally's mother, who had never known her husband to be interested in sports. The mom suspected that Sally was hitting balls with her father because it was important to him, not her. It wasn't until Sally said she wanted to quit tennis lessons that her father backed off.
Sally's dad wasn't the first parent to learn the hard way about trying to squeeze into his kid's tennis shoes. Living vicariously through our children is a common stumbling block for grown-ups, rooted in a time long before we were grown up. Think back to third grade kickball. Any emotions still tugging at you? When Sally's father was a kid, he could only envy those who were good at sports. Now he had a daughter who looked like she could really play, and he was ready to do whatever it took to refine her serve and volley.
How can we keep ourselves from weighing our kids down with expectations? Becoming aware of unresolved feelings is a good start. And it's not a bad idea to let your spouse in on any deeply buried vulnerabilities that may creep into parenting decisions. Of course, you have to trust that your beloved confidant won't bring up kickball at the next family reunion.
Next page: At what age do kids understand competition?
2. Competition Can Wait
Children typically don't understand competition on even a basic level until they're 6 or 7 years old. Before that, they're missing an ingredient key to competing: the ability to compare yourself to others. When two young kids appear to be in competition, they're really each striving for an adult's attention ("Look at me, Dad!" "Watch what I can do!") or trying to learn ("I want to do that too").
Before 6, a child can't distinguish why his team lost — is it because we scored no runs or because our jerseys are blue? And his attention span will not last six innings. A 6-year-old's body is not really ready for competition either: Peripheral vision is still developing, and short-term memory is limited. He's lucky he won't be seeing curveballs for a while; at this age his eyes easily lose track of a pop-up.
I'm not saying young kids shouldn't play organized sports; it all depends on the intensity level and what's emphasized. You can send two teams of 5-year-olds onto a soccer field and just let them enjoy running around. I think it's great when a kid asks the score and the adults play dumb, as if it's not important. This sends the message that the grown-ups put more value on teamwork, the joy of movement, and the beginning of skill development.
Unfortunately, I see a lot of parents and coaches who think giving kids an intense sports experience at a young age helps them develop the proverbial "competitive edge."
When I met with 6-year-old Angela and her parents, she was already a star soccer player. She had started out in the town's recreation league, but the coaches found her so athletic they moved her to a higher level of play. Hello, travel team; good-bye, friends — all of Angela's neighborhood playmates were in the rec league.
Beyond missing her pals, Angela also was overwhelmed by the intensity of the games. So after the season was over, she asked if she could return to playing with her friends. Her parents were torn. If they allowed her to play in the less-competitive league, were they letting her take the easy way out? Or was the travel team too much, too soon?
A travel team, which pits a town's best players against other towns' elite, hardly ever suits a 6-year-old. If she loves the coach and the other girls, is having oodles of fun going to all the practices and games, and is sleeping well and eating well and has a sparkle in her eyes, maybe it's okay. But for most kids the experience is riddled with perils — and the same could be said for a rec league or even a T-ball team if its coaches take competition more seriously than a young player can handle.
Children don't fully understand winning and losing until they're around 12, when they're better able to think abstractly. Here's a scenario played out at ball fields everywhere: The game has just ended, and as the mother of an 11-year-old player walks to the car worrying about how she can help Susie deal with the loss, Susie is wondering, Will Mom stop for ice cream on the way home? The game's over for her.
3. Parents Have a Natural Blind Spot
It's difficult for us to be objective when evaluating our kids' abilities. Children embody the legacy of our families' dreams and aspirations, and it's natural and healthy for us to see them in a positive light. The problem is when that positive light morphs into SportsCenter daydreams. How do we keep it real? Step one: Recognize our biases.
I once worked with a boy named Josh who at 3 already was learning how to ice-skate. With a long line of hockey players and figure skaters in the family, his parents were certain he would be fabulous on the ice.
Josh showed a lot of ability at first, and his folks raved about his skating to anyone who'd listen. But when other kids in his group lessons began to skate with greater ease than he did, Josh became frustrated. His parents, meanwhile, continued to talk about him like he was the second coming of Wayne Gretzky and Scott Hamilton. After his fifth lesson, Josh told his folks he no longer wanted to skate.
Too much "rah rah" just turns up the pressure on a child. I have to score a goal because I'll be a disappointment to my folks if I don't. Or, as Josh's 3-year-old mind might have decided, I want to quit because this is no fun. A parent does a kid no favor by saying, "Honey, you're the best player on the team, no matter what other people say." On the contrary, it's good to pay attention to what others say, particularly coaches — their evaluating lens is likely to be less biased than yours.
Next page: What's the right balance of praise and criticism?
4. Early Years Don't Forecast Future Ability
Sports are great at showing how children develop at different paces. A highly coordinated 6-year-old who can dribble and shoot may end up at a below-average height and never put on a high school basketball uniform. And a klutzy 7-year-old may blossom into a strong, graceful gymnast by age 16. Speed, strength, hand-eye coordination, and cognitive ability continue to develop even when athletes are in their early 20s.
Five-year-old Jeff came to see me with his parents while he was having a frustrating season in T-ball. He was smaller than other kids his age and was having trouble hitting the ball because he couldn't hold the bat steady before swinging it. Jeff kept saying he hated baseball, and his parents were wondering if he should hold off on sports until he was bigger.
Heads up in the infield, I say — Jeff's baseball skills could kick in at any moment. If he's able to have fun playing with his friends and the coach is encouraging, it's worth sticking it out. But if the T-ball experience is nothing but humiliation, it's time to move on.
He can practice hitting in a less public setting, like his backyard. Or he can take swimming lessons or karate classes, which can help a kid like Jeff feel comfortable being physically active. By next season — after growing a little and gaining strength and confidence — Jeff could end up being a better hitter than the kids his age who are slugging home runs right now.
5. Failure Is Valuable
We all love to win, but experiencing failure is not a total loss, not even close. For kids, it's an essential part of growing up.
I've worked with college and elite athletes who've become so accustomed to being the best at everything that they have meltdowns when they're left out of their teams' starting lineups. That's why I have a problem with the trend among parents and coaches to say that no matter what a child does, it's marvelous.
I don't think adults ought to react as though a kid is Pelé after watching him kick at the ball and miss. When we face up to a child's setbacks and help him work through them, we're making it possible for him to learn.
The important thing, I've found, is to strike the right balance: a little constructive criticism along with lots of positive feedback. I often suggest to parents a 5:1 ratio — kids need to hear five statements about what they did well before hearing about one area in which they can improve. So when my son and I are playing catch in the backyard, I heap loads of praise on him for his great throws. Only then do I begin to gently critique his catching ability.
"Hold your hands out in front of you, palms up," I said to Teddy one day in the yard, trying to keep my voice calm and even — you know, practicing what I preach. "Okay, now watch the ball."
I tossed it softly toward him, and it landed squarely in his hands. Then bounced out. The smile didn't leave my boy's face. Or mine. I try to remember that the way I react to his failures (and successes) will have a profound effect on his ability to learn.
When my son and I first started playing ball and he dropped a pass, I'd say, "Too bad!" What kind of message was I sending? That by not catching the ball he'd done a bad thing? Instead, I need to be teaching him how to hang on to the ball but mostly applauding his efforts, so he feels good about our games of catch.
Now when one of my passes falls to the grass at Teddy's little feet, I hold off on the catching critique until I've chanted my new mantra, a perky "Good try!"
The case studies in this article represent composites of several patients.
About the Author
Richard D. Ginsburg, Ph.D., is co-author of Whose Game Is It, Anyway? A Guide to Helping Your Child Get the Most From Sports, Organized by Age and Stage. He tries to follow the advice with his kids.
Next page: Quick tips from the article
Quick Tips from the Article
- Are you living vicariously through your kid? Become aware of any unresolved feelings from your athletic — or maybe not-so-athletic — childhood.
- When a kid asks the score, play dumb, as if it's not important.
- Pay attention to what others say about your kid's skills, especially coaches. They will likely have a more realistic assessment of your Becks-in-the-making than you do.
- If your child is having trouble keeping up with the rest of the team, see how he's reacting. If he's having fun, it's worth sticking it out, but if he's feeling nothing but humiliated, move on.
- Try the 5:1 ratio — lots of positive feedback before a little constructive criticism.
