I Love Watching You Play

Every dad is a coach to his kids. Whether you wear the official hat or not, and whether you stand in the coach's box or not, we all have a tendency to want to coach them up. Some of us do it during the game by shouting "coaching" words from wherever we are sitting, whether the dugout bench or on the other side of the fence in the bleachers. Many of us provide that ever-so-needed (sarcasm) coaching advice on the walk from the field to the parking lot or in the car ride home right after the game.

I'd be interested to know what percentage of dads actually do not do these things I am describing. I'll bet it's less than 10%. I actually did meet one dad last summer who was part of the 10%. I was at one of those cattle-herd showcase events watching my son perform and I began a conversation with one of the fathers in the stands. Pretty early on in our talk I could tell that he knew little about baseball. Then he told me something that I found to be fascinating, and it has resonated with me ever since.

He said (my paraphrase), "I have no athletic bone in my body and I have never played a day of baseball in my life. But I have attended all of my son's games since he was little and just love watching him play."

He went on to say that he intentionally chose to not try to learn much about the game over the years because he felt like the more he knew about the game, the more expectations he would begin placing on his son, and he didn't want to take the enjoyment out of it for him. And more importantly, he said, "the more I would begin shouting those expectations from the stands. He didn't need that from me."

Wow! What an awesome perspective. I imagine what that must have been like for that kid as a young player. Growing up with a father who simply attended his games, watched him play, and never said a word except "Great job." No coaching him up from the stands. No shouting at umpires. No second-guessing coaches, lineups or decisions. It brought up a very provoking thought in my mind. Perhaps... the less dad knows about baseball, the better the baseball experience can be for the child.

Think about that one for a second.

I don't believe that has to be the case and I don't believe it is true in all cases. But imagine this... imagine an entire field of kids playing the game of baseball. Now imagine an entire bleacher section full of moms and dads who are exactly like that guy I met last summer. Imagine that during the game 3 or 4 of those kids make an error. Another 3 or 4 of them strike out. The two players who pitch during the game walk 4 batters a piece. And the team loses the game (...and the ump was terrible).

How might the words from the bleachers be different? And how might the conversations from the field to the parking lot be different? And how might the feelings those children have toward the game of baseball be different? I wonder.

I don't think it's necessary for us dads to have no knowledge of the game or any athletic interest in order for our kids to be able to enjoy playing it. But I do think we can all learn a lot from parents who are like the dad I described. It is SO difficult to not want to constantly be coaching your kids up. But we have to build the skill (yes, think of it as a skill) in order to make the choice to refrain from doing it.

The greatest lesson I learned from that dad last summer is one of the things he said... I just love watching him play.

What if that was all we chose to say to our kids after their games? What if we never offered them a single bit of coaching advice (unless they asked us for it), but simply tell them, "I love to watch you play."

Whether they went 3-for-4 or whether they struck out 4 times... "I love to watch you play."

Whether they started and played the entire game or whether they pinch hit for one at-bat... "I love to watch you play."

Whether they won or lost... "I love to watch you play."

Let's give that a try. Oh, and by the way, the son of that dad I met last summer, he's going on to play ball in college. Imagine that! A dad who knew nothing about the game, offered no coaching advice for 18 years, was able to raise a son who was a great high school player and now is playing at the next level.

Remember that guy and his son, especially the next time you think it is imperative that your 11 year-old needs to hear from you exactly what he did wrong in his 20th game of the summer.