Tom

living out life
2007-11-12 05:03:43 (UTC)

Football Coaches

Growing up only up 45 miles from Gainesville, I was always
surrounded by Florida Gator football fans. I never really
followed it a lot, though, until recently. I’ve slowly
become more interested in it and this year I have either
watched or listened to every game. I enjoy watching the
Gators play, but I am somewhat disappointed in the way
football is portrayed to our youth. Too many times,
football is considered the most important thing in school.

When he was in 8th grade, my son broke his arm. He had the
cast on for four weeks when the football coach started
recruiting guys for Spring football. It was only two weeks
long. It included practicing every day and then only
playing one game. Its sole purpose was to get the 8th
graders jazzed up for high school ball. My son really
wanted to play, but, like I said, he had a cast on his
arm.

I worked at night then, so I was home one afternoon when
the phone rang. It was my son telling me that the middle
school football coach wanted to talk to me. The
conversation went something like this:

Coach: Hello Mr. _______, this is Coach Brown.
Me: Hello coach, what’s on your mind?
Coach: Well, we’ve got Spring football starting next week
and your son wants to play.
Me: Yes, I know, but… he’s got a broken arm.
Coach: Well sir, last year we had one of our guys play
with a broken arm, and it turned out fine. All you have to
do is get the cast cut off, and we’ll wrap it up really
good while he’s on the field.
Me: (His remark stunned me and I really didn’t know what
to say. Did he really want me to get the cast cut off?)
Uh… no, I don’t think that’s a good idea.
Coach: It will be OK, we did the same thing last year with
another kid.
Me: No, we won’t be doing that.
Coach: (He continued to plead his case, but finally
realized that my response was not going to change) OK
then, let me know if you change your mind; he’s welcome to
play any time. Bye.
Me: Goodbye.

After I hung up, I couldn’t help but dwell on the
conversation that just took place. The more I thought
about it the madder I got. How dare a coach call and ask
me to cut the cast off my son’s arm so he could play
football? It had only been four weeks and obviously
required more healing. Who was going to have to deal with
it if he broke it again? Me! Who would have to explain the
whole thing to the doctor? Me! What if he broke it worse
and ended up with pins, or worse, what if he damaged the
nerves and bone for good? Burning with anger, I grabbed
the phone and called the coach back. I told him what I
thought about the idea he had just proposed and let him
know that I didn’t appreciate it at all. It didn’t faze
him a bit. He actually still tried to convince me that it
was a good idea and hung up with, “If you change your
mind, let me know”. What an idiot. That’s the nicest thing
that I can say about him.

With his arm healed, my son tried out for the freshman
team when school rolled back around. I guess you could say
that I went in with a chip on my shoulder, but it didn’t
take long for the high school coach to show what he was
made of. During his meeting with the parents, the coach
told us that if we had to take our son to the doctor, that
we should do it during school time so as not to miss
practice. I couldn’t believe he said that. So.., let me
get this straight; you want me to sacrifice my son’s
education for football practice? I don’t think so! He
ended up playing on the freshmen team, but when it was
over, he told me he didn’t want to play again. I told him
that was fine with me.

I’m sure all football coaches aren’t like these two. But
neither one made much of an impression on me.




Ad: