Ode to Spring Kids’ Sports

As parents we do our best to encourage our kids to try different things.  From trying different foods to trying different activities to trying different sports, our job is to make sure our kids give EVERYTHING a chance.  “Try it once” is our motto which ironically will become the only motto we DON’T have for our kids as they get older.  Don’t try drag racing.  And don’t try sex.  And don’t try drugs.  And don’t try cutting class.  And don’t try home-made explosives . . . . . . wait, was that just my parents who said that?  Encouraging our kids to try different things does seem to be age-appropriate.  But since my kids are 11 and 7 I’m still very much trying to encourage them to try everything at least once, and to their credit they have pretty much taken my advice and run with it.

We’ve tried acting in school musicals.  We’ve tried ice hockey.  We’ve tried tackle football.  We’ve tried baseball.  We’ve tried platform tennis.  We’ve tried soccer.  We’ve tried overnight camp.  We’ve tried swim team.  We’ve tried baseball card collecting.  We’ve tried knee boarding.  We’ve tried water skiing.  We’ve tried downhill snow skiing.  We’ve tried golf.  We’ve tried skate boarding.  And we’ve probably tried a few other things that I’ve simply forgotten about.  Most of it has been one-hit wonders where we’ve done it for a season and then moved on (though tackle football lasted one month – Chase decided he liked FOOTBALL, but not TACKLE football – “big difference dad”), but some of it has lasted longer.  In fact as we head into the spring sport season we’re gearing up for both travel soccer for Jack and house league baseball for both Chase and Jack.  And this is right around the time that I’m starting to regret the whole “try everything” motto as it simply leads to more work and more chaos for my wife and me.

Travel soccer requires no less than two practices a week AND a “training session.”  I still don’t really know the difference between a practice and a training session, but they have both.  Then at least one game which is often times in some other town or city.  There’s both a home and away jersey and we’ve lost both already (played a home game in a black San Jose Sharks t-shirt because the home jersey was M.I.A.).  To make matters worse they have indoor practice every Monday night during the winter which means we’re carpooling either to or from practice on Monday which means I have to spend time in the car with my youngest son and his best pal Grant who came up with this last night:

Grant – Hey Jack I think we could have lived with the dinosaurs.

Jack – Really?  Where would we live?

Grant – In a fort made out of big boulders.

Jack – Well what would we eat?

Grant – Baby dinosaurs.

Jack – How would we catch them?

Grant – We would make a knife and then hunt for them.

Jack – What would we use for bait?

Grant – Girls.

Jack – Why girls?

Grant – Because girls have boobs, and dinosaurs like boobs. 

I can’t decide whether I want to volunteer to carpool to AND from soccer or never again.

Then there’s baseball.  Now I love baseball.  Played it as a kid.  Wish I were still playing it now.  Both my boys play it and no doubt as they get older and better the games are getting more and more fun for me to watch. In fact I’m going to be an assistant coach on Chase’s team this year.  Very excited.  But dear Lord it can be brutal, and I’m not even talking about the tryouts where they herd these kids into a gym and have them swing at wiffle balls thrown to them by 8^th graders who are throwing from their knees (literally I’m not sure Derek Jeter would look good swinging an aluminum baseball bat at wiffle balls that are coming across the plate about a foot off the ground – it’s painful to watch).  No I’m talking about the practices and the white baseball pants that seem to be COVERED in dirt and mud within an hour after the boys put them on.  I’ve actually decided that baseball pants are like those invisible marker pages. . . you know the ones where you have a blank page until you use the “special marker” which then reveals designs and letters and colors that weren’t there just moments before. . . . yeah that’s like baseball pants.  Totally clean one minute and then filthy the next. 

We’ve yet to finish the season with the same baseball hat that we were given to start the season.  Last year my son Jack finished his season with a Chicago Wolves hat.  My son Chase finished his season with a Chicago White Sox hat.  We have one team picture that shows Jack in a different pair of baseball socks.  THE UNIFORM, INCLUDING THE SOCKS, WERE ISSUED ON THE DAY OF THE PICTURES!!!!!  WE LOST THE SOCKS ALMOST IMMEDIATELY!!!!!  HOW DOES THIS HAPPEN!?!?!?!!?

But we will be there for every game and even most practices because we are doing our best to be encouraging and supportive parents (although not always successfully).  This means that we won’t see each other or have dinner together as a family for three months, as we split up to watch one baseball game or coach one practice (Kirsten won’t be coaching, though).  And the weather in Chicago in the Spring usually doesn’t cooperate.  So we will freeze through often painfully long games.  My wife has showed up in moon boots, parka, hat and covered herself in a blanket to make it through some of the games. 

The moral of the story . . . .  be careful what you preach.  Especially to your kids.  It  sometimes bites you in the ass.  And you have to smile while it’s biting you.