Why Your Kids Should Play School Sports

The cycle of seasons has again come around to autumn, which has always been my favorite time of year. Any of several things might contribute to this fondness, but I furtively point a finger to the fact that it means baseball season is almost over. My father, born and raised in Chicago, has a real and deep love affair with baseball which I never understood or appreciated. Without pulling the proverbial rug out from beneath his childhood connection with both the game, and the perennially hapless Cubs, I have to say that the late George Carlin got it dead-on when he compared baseball with football in his now famous stand-up bit. Me? I'm a hockey guy.

Yet fall does herald the potentiality of a wonderful experience for your children. It is the start of the school year, and while most parents and kids ready themselves, often begrudgingly, for the commencement of classes, students who are as I was when I was back in high school will tell you that the most important aspect of life on the immediate horizon is the school sport they play. Whether it be football, swimming, basketball, or even badminton, school athletics provide students with an outlet for pent-up energy, and a framework for learning how to work as a team. Furthermore, sports teach kids to face personal challenges, and to overcome adversity. Yet while these are all worthwhile, the most enjoyable element of involvement in school sports might be a benefit that can be enjoyed by parents and students alike: the entertaining memories which occur both on and off of the court. Long after the kids are grown up and out in the real world, the follies of their athletic experiences will ring strong in their memories, and possibly in the memories of parents as well.

I played basketball through all four years of high school and my fondest memories are not of victories and great plays, but the spontaneous pranks, mistakes, and antics that developed between the whistles. Who could ever forget this scene in the visitor's locker room at a local school?

My co-captain Scott dropped a quarter from his pocket while getting dressed for the game. As it tinkled and pinged its way along the concrete floor, the flashing coin attracted the stare of a teammate. Mark was one to be attracted to shiny things, possessing a strength of wit which was slightly smaller than his muscular build and athletic ability. He stood motionless and watched the quarter spin and roll with the keenness of a lioness stalking an addax on the African veldt, and when it seemed he could no longer contain his urge to pounce on the helpless pocket change, Scott chimed in.

"Hey, there's quarters falling out of that hole in the ceiling!" he shouted, feigning excitement and gesturing vigorously towards the dark pit of a defunct light fixture in the ceiling of the aging locker room.

Mark hustled over to the portal of generosity and cupped his hands like a drought-plagued child desperately chasing down a raindrop. I don't recall how long he stood there, half-naked, while we all laughed, but I believe he was still peering longingly up into that hole as we were departing for home.

Sometimes the laughs happened during the games. Freshman year, many of us were still learning the sport. Jeff knew the game, at least as far as he thought. He was one of those guys who didn't get a lot of playing time. Athletes have all kinds of names for guys like this - bench warmers, the scrub squad. Normally you don't see them on the court until long after the game has been mathematically decided. Any lead or deficit of more than 20 points in the last two minutes of the game will spring these guys from their sideline prisons and treat the onlookers to a stellar display of vaudevillian antics. Jeff came off the bench as we were leading by around 25 points, and promptly fouled one of the players on the opposing team. In accordance, the affronted set up on the foul line to take his free-throws, and Jeff lined up with the rest of us to try and grab any possible rebound. The shooter conducted his routine, concentrated momentarily, and lofted his shot. The ball hung in the air for a surreal length of time. Jeff's flashing eyes glared, tracing a perfect arc along with the free-throw. So great was the intensity of his gaze, that one could argue he was psychically willing the shot to miss. He may have succeeded, for the ball struck the front of the rim with a resounding clang, ricocheted off of the backboard, and bounced away to Jeff's side of the free-throw lane. With all the muscle and speed he could call upon he leaped high from the floor and out-wrestled the sea of outstretched arms, coming down with the ball clutched firmly in both hands. His next reaction was automatic. He found a view of the hoop through the players swarming him, and did what his coach had taught him in practice a hundred times - he went hard to the basket. Jeff's fluid movement led to what was likely the greatest shot he'd ever taken, and as the ball went through the hoop, he jumped for joy with fist-pumping enthusiasm. The crowd was screaming, and Jeff was getting patted on the back and shoulders by smiling players - from the other team. There was a pause in the very movement of time throughout the entire universe as the neurons in Jeff's brain, with painful slowness, processed what had just happened. He suddenly put his hands on his head and groaned like a man shot. He'd scored in the wrong basket.

Jeff was over it after a week of friendly ribbing throughout the school, but the memories endure for me, and for him I imagine. A great life lesson about humility and overcoming mistakes.

Sure, we won games. We lost games too. I had a few stellar moments, and a few times when I wanted to die of embarrassment, but the things I remember most fondly are those crazy, comedic things. A shot scored in the wrong basket. A prank pulled on a teammate. A group of us lifting Christie's MG and turning it sideways in its parking spot so she couldn't leave until everyone else did. Travis screaming in pain as a ball going out of bounds was spectacularly saved by another player and struck him in a rather sensitive area. They are a wonderful web of great stories which I can recount and laugh over for the rest of my life. They underlie the chapter of my life's history called "High School"

So, as your kids get ready for the start of the school year, consider talking to them about the possibility of getting involved in sports. The health and character benefits, and especially the camaraderie and the life-long stories are totally worth waiting through baseball season.