What a thoughtful piece. I especially liked the random introduction of the Cosmosphere--the greatest school trip destination a 1980s kid in Kansas could imagine.
Wow. This hit home. How do you get really good at something? How do you know what you need to go all the way with, and what you're wasting your time with so you shouldn't bother. And how many people live their whole lives never cultivating a talent.
Your last line really hits the nail on the head. I have kids that play youth sports, and the coaches are always pressuring them (and the rest of the players) to take it seriously, and put in the extra work, and dedicate themselves to the game. This hectoring probably started in 6th grade for my son, 9th grade for my daughter. I don't actually see the point of doing this, unless it's to pressure the parents to sign kids up for summer camps and travel teams. Maybe that is the point, because there are a heck of a lot of parents shelling out thousands for their kids sports development. But how can you tell a kid to be dedicated? Isn't it actually the coach's job to create an environment where kids learn to love the game, and thereby become dedicated?
Or the bigger point, why do you have to be dedicated to youth sports in the first place? What's wrong with having a hobby? Parents don't put their kids in Little League because they want the next Yelich. It's to have some structure to their days, make friends, get exercise, have fun, maybe learn some discipline and teamwork. Why can't that be it?
Is it that if you want to teach kids to have goals and work hard, you have to apply that to every facet of their lives? IS that the case? I don't know.
I coached my son in baseball for almost 10 years on a very-rec league team. I viewed my job as teaching the mechanics of how to play, and growing their love for baseball. The singular-minded dedication we marvel about in professional players is the unicorn - it's the rarest of exceptions. It shouldn't be our goal or our expectation.
I'd put it like this to a fella like Kyrgios: How can you love competition but stand losing to a scrub?
What a thoughtful piece. I especially liked the random introduction of the Cosmosphere--the greatest school trip destination a 1980s kid in Kansas could imagine.
Wow. This hit home. How do you get really good at something? How do you know what you need to go all the way with, and what you're wasting your time with so you shouldn't bother. And how many people live their whole lives never cultivating a talent.
Your last line really hits the nail on the head. I have kids that play youth sports, and the coaches are always pressuring them (and the rest of the players) to take it seriously, and put in the extra work, and dedicate themselves to the game. This hectoring probably started in 6th grade for my son, 9th grade for my daughter. I don't actually see the point of doing this, unless it's to pressure the parents to sign kids up for summer camps and travel teams. Maybe that is the point, because there are a heck of a lot of parents shelling out thousands for their kids sports development. But how can you tell a kid to be dedicated? Isn't it actually the coach's job to create an environment where kids learn to love the game, and thereby become dedicated?
Or the bigger point, why do you have to be dedicated to youth sports in the first place? What's wrong with having a hobby? Parents don't put their kids in Little League because they want the next Yelich. It's to have some structure to their days, make friends, get exercise, have fun, maybe learn some discipline and teamwork. Why can't that be it?
Is it that if you want to teach kids to have goals and work hard, you have to apply that to every facet of their lives? IS that the case? I don't know.
I coached my son in baseball for almost 10 years on a very-rec league team. I viewed my job as teaching the mechanics of how to play, and growing their love for baseball. The singular-minded dedication we marvel about in professional players is the unicorn - it's the rarest of exceptions. It shouldn't be our goal or our expectation.
Reminds me a lot of Zack Grienke in his early career, to be honest.