A game of youth - Shawn's Sense with Shawn Loughlin
This month, I’ll be wrapping up a run of coaching two of my kids’ sports teams this summer. I coached Tallulah’s soccer team in Brussels and her baseball team in Blyth. Meanwhile, Jess was one of two coaches of Cooper’s soccer team, also in Brussels. One thing I was reminded of week after week, that helped renew my faith in humanity, was how naturally kind kids are to one another.
In terms of baseball specifically, myself and some of the other coaches are out in the field with the kids, directing them around the field, coaching them around the bases, in an effort to help them learn the basic fundamentals of the game. Because of this proximity, we’re right out there with the kids as they interact with one another, whether they’re on the same team as the kid they’re talking to or not.
It’s been funny. To a certain degree, as the kids’ coach, I’ve had to try and rein them in a bit in terms of how well they’ve gotten along with each other and with the kids on the opposing teams, only because we need them to concentrate and pay attention to the game. But, having said that, it’s been great to see the kids get along with one another.
When kids are on base, they’ll talk to the fielding kids about things - whether it be the baseball game they’re playing or other things they’re interested in. I remember at one game Tallulah was playing first base and she heard from a little girl on the other team about how much she liked Tallulah’s Frozen hat. The other day two boys clearly waiting for hockey season to return were complaining about the hot weather and lamenting how long they had to wait for winter to return. Needless to say, one of my assistant coaches and I didn’t share their enthusiasm and - kindly, of course - told them that their opinions were not welcome on the baseball field.
The kids will often play with one another, whether it’s drawing in the dirt or jumping up and down with one another - they just seem to be having such a great time together and it’s been so sweet to see up close and personal.
Sports are often so competitive and yes that really kicks in when the kids are older than mine are now, but that level of being competitive can also breed an unhealthy relationship with wanting to succeed. When I played baseball, especially in my younger years, though I played until I was in my mid-20s, I was so hard on myself and would spiral into angry fits whenever I disappointed, whether it was striking out or making an error - just something I knew I could do better and didn’t execute to my fullest potential.
As a result, that made baseball a real feast-or-famine kind of proposition for me. If I played well, I’d have the time of my life, but, if I didn’t, I’d be inconsolable, regardless of whether my team did well or not and, because the team was a good one, we did well far more often than when we didn’t. It wasn’t that I was focused on myself for selfish reasons, it was because I felt as though I wasn’t pulling my weight and letting my team down, despite being one of the best hitters on the team.
Thinking back to that, at times, unhealthy relationship I had with sports and seeing the simple, innocent way that my kids and the kids I’m coaching interface with baseball reminds me of why I loved it in the first place. It’s a callback to just wanting to play a game with your friends - even though the question I’m most frequently asked by players on the field is when the game will be over - and having fun whether you succeed or whether you fail and finding new friends anywhere.