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FIRST PERSON: A big lesson from little league by Brett Maragni Date: Nov 10, 2008 |
JACKSONVILLE, Fla. (BP)--God taught me a big lesson about myself through little league. A couple of years ago, when my 4-year-old son was playing organized soccer, it didn’t take long for us to encounter a real, live, in the flesh, over-the-top father. Pacing the sidelines, he was yelling at his son to play better, motivating him with encouraging words like, "What's wrong with you?!" and "Get your head in the game! C'mon!" After the poor kid got injured and was sitting on the bench, his mom walked over to him and told him he was acting like a baby and he needed to get back in there, suck it up and play hard. Over-the-top Dad had apparently married his match. Even a quick survey of the rest of the parents, lined up in their lawn chairs along the sideline, revealed that I was not alone in my embarrassment for the kid. Eyes were rolling, people were whispering and everyone knew we were witnessing immaturity incarnate. Of course, it’s easy to spot this kind of thing in others. The difficulty is seeing it in yourself. When my son turned 5, he graduated from soccer to baseball. Our local little league uses a combination of soft pitch and tee ball. Each batter gets about four or five tries at a soft pitch before using the tee. As you can imagine, any good parent wants his son to not have to resort to using the tee. But my son, like most kids in the first few games, rarely hit the ball without the tee. Then one week I spent a lot of time working with him in the backyard after supper each evening. A quick learner, he thrilled me with his progress. I could hardly wait for that Saturday's game. Everyone would surely notice his marked improvement. Instead, it was his worst hitting performance of the year. After his second at-bat, I turned to the other dads lined up behind the backstop with me, and pointed out that the reason he was swinging way out ahead of the ball was because I had been pitching faster to him than the slow lobs the coach was now throwing his way. I also made sure to point out that the coach was throwing them way too short! After the game, before I could even get out of the parking lot, God decided to unleash my conscience. Why did I have to offer excuses for my son's performance? Why couldn't I just enjoy watching my son play a game he loves? Answer: pride. And not the healthy kind, either. I recognized I was taking the first step on the path to becoming an over-the-top sports dad. I repented in the parking lot that day because I knew sin's pattern (James 1:14-15). If I let that pride take root in my heart and grow, I would become the father yelling at the umpire from behind the backstop. Let that pride become full-grown and I'm transferring my anger from the ump to my precious son. And what some people might justify as passion turns into serious rejection in a child's heart. God help me keep this game in perspective. God help me be my child's biggest cheerleader. God help me be a volunteer coach's ally, and not a burden. God help me represent you well, especially when I'm standing with the other dads behind the backstop. --30-- Brett Maragni is senior pastor of Harvest Bible Chapel of Jacksonville, Fla.
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