The story, by itself, was disturbing enough — an airplane in which a seven-year old girl, attempting to fly across the country, crashes moments following a take off. The girl, her father and a flight instructor are killed.
The anguish, as the father of a seven-year old girl, quickly gives way to anger on the part of this writer. Most seven-year olds are learning how to deal with the basics of education and the business of being a child. What is being accomplished by hav ing someone who should be playing with toys making a transcontinental flight?
The answer is simple — to set a record.
Many doubt the motivation in the tragic scenario above came from within the child. It rarely does. Most children that age aren’t capable of that kind of thinking. Too often, the push for a youngster to succeed comes from someone else. The push towar ds that record, or towards the winner’s circle, can be as deadly as being pushed off the edge of a cliff.
It’s doubtful that the death of three people will be a deterrent to others. The day after the crash, a newspaper told the story of a ten-year old boy who wants to fly an airplane around the world. He is labeled by his father as “courageous.”
Parents, there is a very fine line between giving your youngster an opportunity to do something and having that youngster live out your unfulfilled dreams. Yet it happens again, and again, and again in all areas of life — especially in athletics.
The joy of a parent and child playing catch in the back yard or in the vacant lot has given way to the parent which drags out a bag full of balls and pitches endlessly to a youngster to improve hitting skills. Parents complain that youth recreational l eagues (or for that matter, school-sponsored athletics) are no longer “competitive enough” for their child and the chase continues. Travel teams, and so-called elite competition for kids barely old enough to read exist because of the faint, nearly non-existent hope of setting a record, winning trophies, and of course, earning a college scholarship.
The frenzy is fed by a multitude of groups. The media, because there is sometimes a story in a young phenom, is attracted. Groups which sponsor tournaments, the Michigan High School Athletic Association included, also contribute indirectly.
But the primary force is still, whether they know it or not, the parents.
The scene was disappointing at a winter MHSAA championship, where a youngster was disqualified from a competition. The call by the official was clearly the correct one. The parents raced from the stands towards the playing surface, enraged by the refe ree’s call. They were restrained by security guards. Family members later staked out an entrance to the arena, hoping to confront the official after the competition.
This is a scene played out daily at all levels of competition. Why?
Young athletes, even high school athletes, are easily influenced — they are in need of direction.
Many parents have their heads screwed on straight — understanding that kid’s games are just that — games. But an increasing number of people, including parents, are losing their perspective about why we have athletics.
We start forcing kids down the funnel at much too early an age in activities — athletic and non-athletic, in school and non-school sponsored programs — in the name of competition, in a so-called pursuit of excellence. It’s a collision course with disaster.
How do we restore a better, healthier perspective? It might be an over-simplified approach, but in educational athletics we have an chance to remind everyone that the big picture in life is defined by a variety of elements — sports being just one of them.
School-sponsored athletics, at every level, need to include as many kids as possible — and that means that all the kids should play, too. What should be learned in competition is how to be one’s best as a person first, and as an athlete second. And if you end up being the best athletically on a given day, that’s okay — there’s nothing wrong with winning as long as it’s not our only focus.
It’s when we get that perspective turned around, and we do get it turned around quite often, that we have problems.
My daughter talks often about sports. She says she wants to be a volleyball player, but the closest she’s ever come to a volleyball was when she held one while posing for a cover photo for one of these programs a few years ago. Amazingly, there’s not a local program for her that we know of until she reaches the third grade, and she’ll probably drive her parents crazy talking about it until that time comes.
But tonight, when I tuck my daughter into bed and give her a good-night kiss; I’ll be all the while thankful that she’s dreaming — and living — her own dreams. Not those of her parents.