I’ve written about softball several times—it plays a huge, nearly year-round role in my family’s life. My daughters both play, and my husband has coached my older daughter since she played T-ball . We’ve built close friendships through our town’s beloved softball program, which shapes the rhythm of our seasons and social life, dictates the scheduling of our vacations, and gives us a chance to celebrate small wins. (I’ll admit that my previous notes about softball have been, let’s say, less loving: the schedule is demanding and the time in the car is grueling.) In my community, kids have all kinds of options before high school, from a no-cuts recreational league to several levels of more-competitive play. But when my older daughter became a freshman, she confronted a new situation: If you don’t make the JV team, you don’t play. So my heart was in my throat during this past week of rigorous tryouts. I’ll cut to the chase: She made the team. Though I felt tremendous relief, my heart hurts for the kids who did not. In the cruel and complex landscape of childhood, not making a team hardly merits mention. But when I was a kid, I hated putting myself out there in sports. I was competition-averse and did not rebound well from setbacks to my struggling self-confidence. I remember the sting of not seeing myself on a list of chosen players. I recognize the many problems with a parenting philosophy that assigns all children a participation trophy. And at 14, my daughter is out of that age range, anyway. But while I’m grateful that this was not the week we had to confront a crushing disappointment, my heart goes out to the kids who didn’t make the team. It’ll be my kids, one day soon, and I hope they’ll handle it better than I ever did. How do your kids handle competition? How do you handle their disappointments? Write to me at andrea@time.com. I’ll reply to everyone: There are no cuts in my community. Best,
Andrea |
