Play time

By: Ellen Nelson

Published On: May 07, 2010

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You don’t have to be a fan of college basketball (although you should be) to have seen the recent footage of West Virginia Mountaineers Coach Bob Huggins consoling his star player Da’Sean Butler as he lay writhing on the court in pain after tearing his ACL during a drive against the Duke Blue Devils. Huggins, known more amongst media for his painful press conferences and low-graduation rates, rushed his big, bear-like self to the floor the second he saw what happened and, after reprimanding the referee for calling a foul on Butler (that is his job as a coach, after all), he knelt to the floor and cradled Butler’s head in his hands, telling him it would be okay, directing the sobbing player’s focus towards him and only him.

Anyone who has ever played sports and feels competitive desire knows the anguish that player felt. His coach knew. It wasn’t about the pain. It was about letting his team down. Granted, Butler was no doubt concerned about the gravity of his injury, but I bet it was his desire to take his team to the finals that fed his emotional reaction.

As for Coach Huggins, much has been made of his toughness and how this incident revealed, as one ESPN commentator noted, “the tender side of his heart.” I disagree.

I think it showed his heart’s strength. It demonstrated what coaching is about.

Good coaches are tough, demanding, fierce—and as much as players like to complain about that, they need it. But, they also need to know Coach has their back. That he or she will get out on the floor to question the ref, to cradle the injured. That demanding, persistent, relentless coach will be what unites the team—often against the coach, but sometimes that’s what it takes in those love-hate relationships. It’s this kind of coach who shapes a person’s attitude, discipline and drive for the rest of life.

But never mistake abuse for toughness. Nor should we jump at moving from “playing” to “competing.” I’ve seen this at children’s club soccer, lacrosse and football games recently, and it seriously troubles me. There, you will find children, parents and coaches mistaking hostility for competitiveness. Anger does not equal drive. Nor does sheer meaness.

It’s shocking to watch one child be brought to tears because an opposing teammate, who is a friend the rest of the day, resorts to name calling and trash talking. Mean, vindictive words. Words, that, under ordinary parenting circumstances, should get the child jerked off the field or court and reprimanded. Rather, you will see parents cheering this awful behavior on, yelling, “That’s the way! Show ’em who’s boss!”

Now, I’m not refering to the kind of trash talking you’d see NBA players like Reggie Miller dole out. That’s smart, classic and part of his game. You better be pretty damn good at your sport and be getting paid before you resort to name calling like that. But to cheer on unsportsmanlike behavior from a child. You’re entering Neanderthal territory.

Somewhere in this competitive world, it seems we’ve lost sight of the definition of competition. We’ve forgotten the difference between playing a sport and competing in a sport. Playing sports no longer seems to exist. How horrible. If I hadn’t had the opportunity to try the different activities I tried, I wouldn’t be me. Why must children be forced to drop a sport because they need to commit more time? Or they must decide between two sports because the travel schedule mandates every weekend on the road for each activity. Must everyone go pro at age six?

I want more play time for youngsters. We know that all too soon everything will be about competition for them. They’ll compete to get into college. (Hell, what am I saying? They compete to get into some kindergardens!) They’ll compete for a job. They’ll compete for love. They’ll compete for money.

So how about extending that play time just a few more years? For all the children—the future pros and the ones who just want to be outside with their friends and teammates. They just want to play.

After all, it has to start with love of the game. You have to love playing. Then you can become a competitor. And you’ll need a good, tough coach to take you to the next level.