There’s something happening with today’s kids. I see it at just about any youth sporting event I attend. Other coaches have made mention of it and even some parents. It’s what I call the “Wimpy Factor”. There are a lot of reasons a kid can succumb to the wimpy factor but first we need to recognize what it is. It is that displayed behavior of not wanting to join in, or afraid of becoming apart of the group. That fear of willingness to explore the unknown and take a risk. The inability to personally challenge one’s self and push the envelope, even just a little. It’s that kid, who during practice, runs over to mom for a drink during a break rather than hanging with the team. I’ve even seen mom get up from her lounge chair to let junior sit until being called back onto the field.

How did this happen in this land of pioneers? How have we as a society that forged a new frontier, fought world wars, raced to the moon and set the standard of independence for the rest of the world to follow, become a growing population of wimps? The times have changed for one thing. We have to worry about sexual predators, violent gangs, drugs, drunk drivers, disgruntled employees and children with guns. Not to mention food preservatives, A.D.D. and A.D.H.D. I mean, what’s a parent to do?

My eldest son has always been involved in sports, his younger brother as well. However, as younger siblings go, there was a period of time where he could only watch from the sidelines dreaming of his chance to be old enough and big enough to compete in the same forums. The elder was always one of the biggest on the team and based upon his early physique, I was sure the Michelin Man was his daddy and not I. The younger on the other hand was slight but taunt and built for speed. When his time came to play football, at the old age of eight, he was one of the smallest trying out. I watched as he worked his heart out and gave it everything he had to give. The kid was black and blue from head to toe and I’m not exaggerating. His coach had obviously made up his mind that this little tow-head wasn’t big enough to play on this team and it was apparent by the way he treated him. He regularly put the kid up against the bigger and older players at every opportunity. I would tell my wife that you can’t control who the other team is going to put across from you on game day, so, he might as well get used to it now. To his credit, my son never complained. He was finally living out his dream and achieving what his older brother had done before him. He couldn’t be happier!

One day before the team cuts, this coach walked my boy over to me and said the kid had something to tell me. Through a stream of elephant tears he said he no longer wanted to play football. He said it was too hard for him. As he was doing this, the coach turned and walked away. I was shocked at this revelation! Part of me didn’t want to believe it and the other was what to do if it’s true. We had one of those father-son talks about commitment, responsibility and seeing things through to the end. It was a lot for a crying eight year old but I felt my kid wanted to play this game. At any rate, I wasn’t going to allow him to quit something he had started regardless of how hard it may have become. And I suspected he had been convinced otherwise. In the end he told me he wanted to play and so we marched across that field to the coach. The coach told me he was going to have to cut three players and he felt my son was just too small. I told him he would have to cut him then because junior wasn’t quitting. I also told him that if he only had to cut three he better do it in person and not by posting a list. The following week we were forced to turn in the equipment and sit out the season. It was a tough time for my son but it was also a learning experience, which provided a deep burning fire. As an aside, to that coach, last year as a freshman this same kid rushed for over 1000 yards and scored 16 touchdowns.

I am the proud father of four children, two girls, two boys, age’s 15 through 25. I personally think they are great kids but by no means, perfect. Folks who know them will pretty much say the same thing. My partner, Dave, will say the eldest boy is a pain in the ass as he has had the pleasure of coaching him over three years of varsity ball. That aside, as each of them is different from the other, so has been many of the ways they have been raised. However, they are all independent individuals capable of taking care of themselves while knowing their mother and I are always there for them. I want them to experience life. I want them to fall down a couple of times and learn that you do get back up. I want them to know they will survive a broken heart. They need to know that you don’t always get what you want or feel you deserve. They need to know bad things happen to good people sometimes. That you don’t always win but you can strive to do better. I want them to take some risks and feel that rush of excitement. I want them to get a couple of bumps and bruises and know they can continue on. I want them to live life!
So, the next time you get the opportunity to push a little, let go a bit. Let’em fall down, help’em up, brush’em off and push them right back out there!