As I was turning in my football gear (having been cut from the team), an assistant coach told me that he needed me on the wrestling team. I hung onto those words: “he needed me.”
A local writer shared a story recently about his experience as a first-year player in organized football. He writes about the misery associated with his first game as a 7th grader and how the coach kept him after practice to do extra drills. It was punishment for failing to block an opponent successfully.
Courtesy: Baltimore Sun
Misery escalated when two teammates used their superior physical powers to demonstrate how it felt to be tackled by the opponent who missed his blocking assignment. Then, two hefty linemen stood at the entrance of the locker room to ‘teach’ him another lesson.
The writer explained how he decided to turn lemons into lemonade, namely, using that football story as a learning experience, specifically about how to get along with people and be a team player. That’s admirable, but what’s sad is that neither the coach nor his teammates taught him how to correct what he did wrong. Instead, this young player was punished for making a mistake. If that isn’t an example of first-class bullying behavior, then I don’t know what is.
I can relate. When I was a 10th grader, I was intent on playing football. On a hot, August practice, the coach had me line up to catch punts. The first kick somehow landed in my arms. As the rumbling herd approached, I threw the ball to a coach. The penalty was being relegated to the sideline to watch others play.
After practice in the locker room, a senior player yelled at me, “There’s ‘I don’t want the ball, Barbee,” he said in a mocking tone. No soap or water could remove the stinging stain. Somehow I remained on the team, but only by holding blocking dummies during practices.
That winter, I joined the wrestling team and was the 13th member of a team of twelve varsity wrestlers. I wrestled some preliminary matches and won some, too, but I also lost many. Twelve wrestlers received varsity letters. Experience’ was my reward.
Courtesy: Little League Baseball
In spring, there was baseball. During tryouts, I was intent on showing the coach I could hit, but the ball kept being somewhere my bat was not. But rather than being called out for my inability, something very different happened. Jimmy, the varsity catcher, urged me not to try so hard. I tried following Jimmy’s advice, but it was to no avail. I was cut from the team.
The next year (in 11th grade), I knew my football career was on life support and, after one of the summer scrimmages, I was one player in a small group that was cut from the team. As I was turning in my gear, an assistant coach named Bob Mauldin spoke words that I remember to this day. He said, “I need you on the wrestling team.” I hung onto those words: “he needed me.”
Winter came, and so did wrestling season. By then, I was madly in love with a girl. Early in the practice season, I told the team captain, David, that I’d be quitting the team to earn money and woo my new love. David wouldn’t have it. He told me (as Coach Mauldin had done earlier) that ‘I was needed.’
I thought about my youth experiences after reading that writer’s story.
Luckily for me, I didn’t have to figure out how to turn a negative experience into a positive lesson. Except for that senior football player, I was affirmed by those around me–Jimmy the catcher, Coach Mauldin, and David, the wrestling captain.
I never played on either the football or baseball team, but those disappointments were short-lived. What endured were Jimmy’s encouragement and Coach Mauldin’s and David’s affirmations. As Robert Frost writes, “…and that has made all the difference.”
