You need to this mo-fo.
1 Like
Did you tell him about the bank vault yet?
2 Likes
This article resounded with me to a small extent.
Dave Hannigan: I despise youth sports and donāt enjoy watching my sons play competitively
We introduce our children to the company of sports with the best of intentions, but somewhere along the way this gift becomes a curse.
Thu Jun 13 2024 - 06:00
A balmy May Friday night in a hotel just south of Boston. Bored and restless in the room, my 17-year-old son Charlie and I adjourned to a discrete corner of the car park to ping a soccer ball around. Sporting flip-flops that added a degree of difficulty to exchanges, barely a word was spoken, the only sound theatrical oohs and aahs at the more audacious volleys and muttered curses at treacherous footwear going airborne. Our kickabout began in the gloaming and ended in sweaty darkness and smiles. He played three heavy-duty tournament matches over the following two days, none of which brought me anything like the simple joy of our interplay.
A baking Saturday afternoon in June. I pulled up to a basketball court in a public park. Finn, my 13-year-old, had been there for hours playing pickup against kids younger and older. Rolling down the window, I hear [J]blaring from a speaker, the sweary din of trash-talking, and the ribald laughter of teen boys showboating after baskets. No fouls were called, no coaches prowled, no meddling adults manned a scoreboard. āWinners stay onā was the only strictly self-policed law. Iāve seen my child play school and club matches all over this island, but invariably crimson-cheeked and leggy, he never looks happier with ball in hand than in this unruly place.
Itās been too long since my last confession but bless me father for I have sinned. I am a sports dad, and I donāt really enjoy watching my sons play competitively. I know Iām supposed to. I just donāt. At all. I genuinely donāt care whether their teams win. In fact, if they are losing and an equaliser means extra-time or overtime, Iām rooting for the result to stay the same and the torture to end quickest. I despise organised youth sport and just about all who sail in it. A couple of decades on the sidelines have done this to me. Too many demented coaches. Too many dysfunctional parents. Too much ugly. This is not what I thought it would be.
As Hallmark will remind us in insufferable fashion this Sunday, we introduce our children to the company of sports with the best of intentions because that is what fathers are expected to do. Be fluent in the universal male bonding language we inherited from our own dads; the easiest of heirlooms passed down through generations. We grant admission to this fellowship knowing it will yield large helpings of Kiplingās triumph-and-disaster combo and we are fine with that arrangement. Losing honed our characters and will benefit our kids too. All you really want for them is to maybe develop a passion for a game they can carry with them through their lives.
READ MORE
[āThis is horrendous - itās no way to treat a childā: Parentsā anger over lack of school places in Taoiseachās home town](https://www.irishtimes.com/ireland/education/2024/06/12/this-is-horrendous-its-no-way-to-treat-a-child-parents-anger-over-lack-of-school-places-i
Somewhere along the way, this gift becomes a curse. We move on from the unadulterated fun of messing about with a ball in the garden and sign innocent rubes up for clubs, sacrificing them to the youth sports industrial complex, a meat grinder shredding dreams, pulping dreamers. Too quickly, the experience becomes regimented, excessively intense, and winning-obsessed. Training too much, playing way too many games, the parentsā struggle to keep the childās love for the thing alive even as deranged adults in their orbit expect them to treat an enjoyable pastime like a full-time job.
All we can really do to combat this menace is to keep meeting them in the margins where the most enduring memories are made. Impromptu knockabouts in car parks. Endless games of HORSE in the driveway as the sun goes down. Our own bastardised hybrid of Olympic handball and water polo in every swimming pool we visit. Sacred spaces for this father and his sons, boys who, following the loss of their mother, learned too young time is the only currency that really matters and every second of these interactions are treasured possessions.
I donāt remember too many games from my youth but I can vividly recall the scent of cherished summer evenings pucking a sliotar with my late father on the hard, wet sands of Garretstown beach. And just about every time he kicked a ball with us in the backyard. Ever.
We middle-aged cranks are baffled by the ways of the modern sports world. Our children wear grip socks under soccer socks theyāve already cut holes in the back of. They prefer playing a video game of a sport rather than watching a live match on television involving the same teams. They have an inexplicable love affair with the gym. So much has changed yet one thing remains constant. No matter how old my lads get, the moment I kick or throw a ball with any of them, taciturn man-children become contented little boys again. Easily pleased. Kids at heart. Kids at play.
The day that Abe, my oldest son, realised he would never actually be signed by Manchester United, I explained to him his ācareerā hadnāt been a waste of time because he would take soccer with him wherever he went. No matter the city, there would always be a game going, always be people wanting to play. A noble sentiment that didnāt exactly soothe his bruised adolescent soul. But last week he texted me from his five-a-side match at a caged-in AstroTurf on the roof of a high school in Chinatown. In his mid-20s, he understands the meaning of sport now. Making his fatherās day.
14 Likes
Hannigan gets it.
Iāve got to the stage now where I donāt coach/manage my young lads gaa team and asked our Co-ordinator to allot us apart. Iām happy to take another group and let him fill me in after how he got on and even if heās upset over a tackle or refs decision - let him tell me why after.
Otherwise heād be looking over at line looking for help/reassurance. And then weāll have kick or puck around after or next day. Working away at the moment anyway
19 Likes
How old is he now ?
9 - heās a decent player but if anything went wrong when playing heād look over to me and throw his hands in the air. I also found myself going harder on him over the other lads. Now I just give out to them all equally 
11 Likes
Im the same for gaa. Still coach him at football but get other coaches to talk to him.
1 Like
I dunno what the right answer is.
No matter how good you are you get to a level where somebody is better. Iāve friends with sons on second and third teams and siblings on Dublin development squads. They all end up sort of disappointed when they donāt make a next team is what he said to me.
As a man said to a team recently Iāll know I did a good job if some of you are at each others weddings.
5 Likes
I donāt care about A B or C but whenās he on team
Iām not involved in he has more RESILIENCE or more will to win/compete. I realise theyāre prob still a bit young for that concept and it should be about FUN.
We played Boden today who were very tidy and one lad went to the well making 3 blocks in a row. He couldnāt kick snow off a rope but it was the best play the whole game.
1 Like
A bit of resilience and ability to work hard is all you want sport to teach them really.
Too many aul lads self worth is now caught up in how good their son is.
1 Like
Grand for ye super clubs and your multiple teams and coaches. But I try to do similar with my lad. Unfortunately heās picked up my coordination so things not coming to him so easily, but heās plugging away at it, and I donāt push him (maybe even too little). But the last few months now heās started asking for puck / kick arounds in the evening. His mother is a lot harsher on him for the hurling technique than I am. Youād forget we didnāt start organised sport until u10 or u12.
A young lad from my u8s walked up to me today in France to tell me he was sorry for missing training and that theyād brought a hurley and football with them.
15 Likes
Thinly veiled, he expects that you got the cones and the bibs in the suitcase and that youāll have a session ready for him in the morning.
2 Likes
He wonāt need a Hurley or football for the dunes running was the answer.
7 Likes
The eldest is starting to get into her Camogie now at last, has taken her 2 years to get the eye & mentality right.
Iāll bring her training & to matches but I donāt want to be involved in the team as I just donāt think she needs that pressure.
While she was idling along Iād encourage her but not as much as any other child whether on her team or the opposition for a piece of skill.
It seems now she wants the praise.
Sheās looking up to the older girls who are going very well. Thatās great as itās a brilliant example theyāre setting for her.
Iām happy to do the bit of coaching pucking about every evening.
6 Likes
I saw one of our top lads sliding down a massive wall beside the bar at the lake in Bella italia last year where he nearly broke his neck. He shouted ācoach donāt tell my mam and dadā. They were gee eyed in the corner. No worries kid
1 Like
Letting your daughter play field sports? WTF . Do you want her to be a lesbian?
Our little lady is in ballet and gymnastics. No proper lady plays field sports.
2 Likes
This is more important than what any coach does at the field.
A lad has improved beyond all recognition the last few weeks. Called the mother aside last week to find out the story, she said theyād bought him a rebounder and heās been on it every evening since.
5 Likes
Correct statement
1 Like