It was on the news again, about how after a game, inside the family car, the father offered a critique about his son’s performance. When the father later watched the video that his other son discreetly took, he cringed and wished he could take back what he said.
Two decades ago, when my eldest son took up football, and five years later, my youngest son, basketball, I chose not to sit behind the players’ bench or even say anything on the ride home.
I wondered at times how I could balance being ‘a father-coach’ who dissected the game with their kids and their performance and just being supportive. To this day, I wondered if I should have pushed my kids more or just be glad that I supported them.
I played varsity sports during my school days. I was good but I could have been better had I had the right environment to grow into. I was inconsistent with my academic performance and that created all sorts of problems about reliability. Furthermore, my parents were vociferous in being against my playing sports (I should just concentrate on my schooling).
There were several incidents that helped me formulate that cool and not being overbearing approach.
First was while watching a football match, a batchmate of mine who was a multi-sport star in school, was constantly yelling at his son during the football match. At half-time, the son didn’t immediately join the team huddle but straight to his father. The coach and the other teammates-including all parents-were looking. My batchmate proceeded to scold him in front of everyone.
His team won the championship, but following the match, the way the kid trudged off the field, it was like they lost.
That remains an indelible memory to this day.
Another was this kid who was a star in high school but found it hard to play meaningful minutes or even put up stellar statistics with the college squad. Perhaps, the father thought his son would go to the Philippine Basketball Association and with every poor game, that ambition or dream, was slipping away.
It was the same thing. He would ride his son until the latter ‘gave up.’ The son landed a spot in a Mythical Selection for a postseason tournament, and it was surmised he would finally see extended minutes and even be the star for the next season. He surprised everyone when he forewent his final playing year.
When my youngest son was playing, I knew it bugged him and his teammates that they were ordered to pass the ball to the team’s star who was already being recruited to transfer to another high school team playing in the top league in the country.
I always tell my sons to follow their coaches. When you do something, and you do it right, and you worked doubly, triply hard so hopefully, the coach could-and emphasis on could-cut you slack and give you the opportunity. Just don’t ask for it. There will always be someone else watching to maybe even give you that break.
My youngest is pretty good. In high school, he was close to six-feet tall (he is about 6’2′ now), could block shots, rebound, and hit the outside shot. In fact, even if he didn’t play for a big program, he was offered two scholarships to the Team B of two big programs. And that proved my point.
Of course, that will not happen to everyone, but still, I believe you are forming a foundation and giving them backbone to help them for the rest of their life.
This formed the foundation of my working with high school and college student-athletes either as a mentor or their consultant/manager. I always encouraged my children and the kids I worked with but always put them in terms they could understand. The decision on what to do was always dependent on them.
Now, they might have not been mature enough to understand or even make decisions at that time, I doubly made sure they and their parents understood the situation while planning for worst case scenarios.
Again, I wondered if I should have pushed the way other parents who were stars during their school days. I guess there is nothing wrong with that. It worked out for others, some, not.
My answer to that was the love for the game should always win out. A desire to get better no matter the odds.
billboards do the job socmed
That drive home was also a huge lesson for me to rein in my thoughts and my mouth when emotions were raw. It taught me that timing is everything, and sometimes, a fatherly hug and pat on the shoulder, then good food will go a long way in soothing nerves.
That is why to this day, my kids and I can talk about music, pop culture, and even social concerns because I never needled them.
And yes, we still take that drive home together.