Skipping and Twirling, Youth Sports and Norway, and My Dad
Skipping and twirling, Norway, and my dad — that's what I'd like to talk about today. Don't worry, they fit together by the end. But here's how it starts: I told my ten-year-old daughter that she had to pick a team sport to join.
1. SKIPPING
As any parent in 2020 will tell you, after-school activities like sports are the simplest strategy for reducing screen time. A phrase, mind you, that didn't even exist when we were kids ourselves. In my family we had "scream time," but what family didn't? Except maybe the perfect TV families who were on screens themselves. I don't recall the Waltons ever having to say, "Good night, John Boy, time to turn off the iPhone. John Boy? ... JOHN BOY!!!"
My daughter chose basketball.
I could tell she was concerned that her new commitment might crowd out her other passions of Roblox, Minecraft and watching YouTube shows like “5-Minute Crafts.”
Mandatory short rant alert: If you’d like to lose five minutes of your life, check out what was voted by even kids as one of the worst channels on YouTube. Rebecca Jennings of Vox described 5-Minute Crafts as "do-it-yourself-how-to's that no person could or should ever replicate."
And I describe it as, nope, I can’t describe it. Unless being reduced to old-timey swears like “Why do you watch this crap?" is a description. I know I should do better, but watch even one of the five minutes and you too will find yourself cursing old-school until you squint hard, shake your head and turn away.
Anyway, my daughter picked basketball and that prompted me to share another old-timey maxim — one I'm far less ashamed of. I said, "Look, just have fun, show up, and try. That's all I ask."
She nodded and then went kid-pro-quo on me, asking for 20 more minutes of 5-Minute Crafts. Ugh!
Now, this wasn't just my kid's first team sport — it was also my first step back into a competitive sports scene of any kind since my own days riding the bench years ago. And given our sometimes whiplash-fast changing world, I'm happy to report that not much had changed other than waaaay cooler uniforms. But most of it was the same.
Hardwood floor with mystery booby-trap boards to avoid? Check. Cheap plastic thinly padded walls optimal for concussion? Check. A failing scoreboard? You bet. Complete with intermittently buzzing red lights where twos, threes, and eights are pure guesswork. And my favorite, a skinny cash-strapped high-schooler who thought refereeing might be easy money. Oh, thank god for that combination of innocence and greed.
Every parent understands the mental gymnastics you go through in order to try to look calm while your stomach is actually flipping as you watch your kid do anything for the first time. So you can imagine the feeling of pride I had when her number was called and with a confident bounce she joined her team, and then, OK, sure — she proceeded to SKIP up and down the floor not once but every single time the ball moved from offense to defense. I lost count. Shock has that effect.
She not only skipped, but one time, prior to setting up on defense, she found a window to add in a little twirl. I shout, "Hands up, everyone!" Hands shot up — my kid, too. I was thankful she spared me jazz hands or flossing.
But let's review. I had told my daughter, "Have fun, show up, and try." One can easily argue that two out of the three goals had been met with blue-ribbon certainty. All good for showing up: she made her presence known, and, one might add, memorable. And as for having fun? I challenge anyone to skip and twirl and then report back less happy than they were before. Angry skipping is probably as rare as happy head-butting. So we're solid in spades on "having fun."
But I was still hung up on that third benchmark of "trying." I'll even cop to being pulled toward another old-timey phrase in response to her skipping and twirling instead of the more traditional choice of *running." I thought, "That's not how we played the game." I was beginning to channel and adapt Tom Hanks' classic rant about crying in baseball: "Are you skipping? There's no skipping in basketball! NO SKIPPING IN BASKETBALL!!!"
At one point I overhear another dad murmur to his wife, "Who's the kid skipping?" I shout again, "HANDS UP! GOOD D!" and clap hard.
We lost that game 32-4. I didn't care. I was still on a high from knowing my kid had stepped far out of her comfort zone and tried something new and fun that wasn't on an iPad. WIN!
On the ride home I ask her, "So what'd you think?" She beefs, "Dad, are they allowed to just grab and jerk the ball like that?"
I said, "Yep — part of the game."
"A dumb part," she says.
"Yeah," I smile. "So you had fun?"
She says, "Yeah," quickly enough that I figure there's hope for a game two. Then she says, "Boy, we lost by a lot." And I said, "Yeah."
She asked if we'd lose all the games by that much. I said of course not, and then did what I think most dads would do. I told her those other girls were on steroids, stole our signals, and were coached by LeBron James's cousin. She said: "We had signals?!"
NASA satellite photo of Norway
2. NORWAY
Okay, a slight shift of scene. At this point in the narrative I want to send us on a quick and pleasant trip to Scandinavia.
Specifically, to Norway. Before you disappear down the punishing rabbit hole of 5-Minute Crafts, I implore every parent, teacher, coach, and well, human being to watch and share this NY Times article, "Does Norway Have the Answer to Excess in Youth Sports?" Or watch HBO"s Real Sports story on Norway's approach to athletics for kids. Or both.
Spoiler alert! As cited in both pieces, Norway's youth sports system is almost the polar opposite of what we do here. Their country even has rules and guidelines that govern how kids and adults participate in athletics across the nation.
Here are a few that might surprise you:
Their leagues don't keep score at all before the age of 12.
There are no national championships held for teams younger than 13 years of age.
Children are allowed to decide for themselves how much they'd like to train, and are allowed to opt out of games if they'd rather practice.
There's more to the story, like the ridiculously low cost of all youth sports programs in Norway — to ensure that families can afford to pay, so more kids can play.
But most of all, in Norway they prioritize participation and allowing kids to develop their *own* motivation for playing sports. Rather than having it shouted into them by adults.
I know for some this rattles deep long-held beliefs and the way we've come to chide a supposedly less-gritty generation for being spoiled by too many blue ribbons and participation awards.
And yet, in Norway 93 percent of children play organized sports. And as the NY Times article notes, at last year's Winter Olympics,"Norway, a nation of just 5.3 million, won more medals, 39, than any other country in the history of the Winter Games."
So they must be doing something right. Right?
Because Norway, a country with a population the size of Minnesota, shocked the world by taking the most medals at the Winter Olympics in South Korea. And they attribute it mostly to a national system that keeps kids involved and joyous in a noncompetitive fashion until they’re ready to compete on a larger stage.
Caricature of my dad in his tavern-running days
3. DAD
When I was about my own daughter's age, on Sundays I'd help my father sweep and clean the tavern he owned and ran in our small town.
Sometimes I'd have a Little League game afterwards and on one of those days, prior to hopping on my bike and heading out, my dad asked if I wanted him to come to the game.
I said, "Hmm, I don't care," and I meant it. It's hard to explain but at that age I truly didn't care if either parent saw me strike out, steal a base, or hit a home run. As long as I had extra change for a Dreamsicle and a hot dog I was happy. Let's chalk this up to "it was a different time" and move on to the larger point my dad was getting to.
"OK," he said, "because I can't. Or I shouldn't. It's probably better if I don't."
I'm guessing you're curious what he meant by that, and I was curious too. I looked up.
"I'm just not sure I could control myself when a parent starts to cheer because a kid on the other team dropped a fly ball or made an error. I just might punch one of 'em, and then we'd both look like a-holes."
I got it, even then — but not nearly as well as I do now. Because it took time, and being a parent myself, to understand who my dad was putting first: kids.
As for me, I look forward to watching my daughter skip and twirl at her next game.
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In addition to appearing as a motivational speaker for business events of all kinds, Tim Clue is available as an education keynote speaker and a healthcare keynote speaker .
