You Can't Have An All-Star Game If Everybody Is An All-Star

The only thing dumber than canceling an All-Star Game for 9-year-olds so their feelings aren't hurt is arguing that 9-year-olds have to have an All-Star Game.

Seriously.

I bet the parents get more excited/disappointed than the kids.

 

And it's alive and well here in Toronto.

http://www.parentcentral.ca/parent/article/452372

It's game night for the SCARDESO (Scarborough Development League), a select organization for kids ages 7 through 9 that records no scores or standings. There is no league cup. Nor are there repetitive drills during weekly coaching sessions. Instead they play games that focus on co-ordination, running, flexibility and dribbling.

I don't have a big problem with this at all.

 

Do they get cookies and milk after the game and learn how to play the violin as well?

 

i sucked my first three years in little league. just fucking blew. 10, 11, 12 years old ... it was pitiful. one year i got one hit. the coaches laughed at me, my teammates made fun of me, the works

worked my ass off, went down to the schoolyard starting in mid-february with my brother and fielded grounders, took BP, etc.

13 year old league, made the fucking all-star team - ahead of a few of the kids who used to make fun of me. spent the summer playing a 20-game all-star schedule in different towns, had the time of my life, then played in a double-elim tourney at the end.

making that all-star team meant so much to me as a kid. that was a big part of my motivation to improve, and i've used that experience with my kids - and with myself in other things in later years

so bottom line - fuck these fucking dolts

 

They're seven year olds. They probably get apple juice.

And exactly what's wrong with learning to play the violin?

Does it offend your adolescent notion of masculinity?

 

There is nothing wrong with the violin.

There is something wrong when people who put together leagues like this feel the need to pat themselves on the back.

There is something even more wrong with the idea that putting kids in competitive leagues is evil and their parents are the devil.

I've been involved with youth sports as a coach, as a father and as a league coordinator for nearly 20 years -- and I can say without a doubt that the number of bad apple parents and the number of off the chart incidents due to overly competitive parents is so miniscule that it is hardly worth all of the hype it gets.

Are there some whack job parents out there? Yes.

Are there some coaches who have a big problem understanding that little Johnny can't make the throw from third to first mostly because he's seven and his arm hasn't developed yet or that nobody gives a rat's ass about their record as a youth sports coach? Absolutely.

But there are millions of good parents and good coaches involved in competitive leagues as well -- and there are millions of kids who play in competitive league and (gasp!) actually enjoy themselves, even when they keep (gasp!) score.

Yet somehow the relatively few idiots have suddenly become the poster child for why we need to take competition out of sports (and everything else for that matter....)

 

Wait a minute? You mean competition drove you to be better? And you learned this through youth sports? And you didn't become a serial killer?

My God you are a modern miracle!!!

 

Since some people have been telling their stories of how competition and failure helped them in Little League, I thought I'd throw mine out there, similar as it is to some others.

Started playing "Farm League" at 7 and sucked. Pretty badly. Couldn't hit. Couldn't run. Couldn't throw. Nothing. Coach tried to hide me out in right field, where I'd stare at the grass and look forward to getting ice cream after the game. I don't even know whether we won or lost any of the games because I was only peripherally involved in them, though I do know they kept score, along with league standings. What I do remember, though, is looking into the infield from time to time and always noticing that the pitchers seemed to be the best players. They got to be involved in the action, played every inning and were usually good hitters too. I didn't know why this was the case, but I could see that it was.

So I decided to be a pitcher. Since my dad never wanted to throw with me, I spent pretty much the entire offseason, when I wasn't otherwise playing with my friends, throwing at a spot on the outside wall of our garage. Over and over and over again. Drove my dad fuckin' nuts. Thump. Thump. Thump. I'd hit it 10 times from one spot, then back up 3 feet and hit it 10 times from there. Did this for months. By the time next baseball season came around, I had something very few 8-year-olds had: aim.

So when tryouts came around, the time came around for kids who wanted to be pitchers to show their stuff. I stepped up and threw 10 pitches, 5 of which were strikes, about 5 more than anybody else threw. I was picked by what turned out to be the league's best team, hit 3 home runs, made the All-Star team (and, after my first pitch, got hit in the braces-covered mouth by the catcher's return throw, thus abruptly ending my first All-Star appearance). After that, I made the All-Star team all three years in Little League, made another one two years later in Sandy Koufax League and ended up playing in a Senior Pro League until I was 21.

The point for me is that competition within the team forced me to rot in right field, quit or work to get better. I, nor my parents, expected the coaches to let me be a pitcher or put me in the lineup all the time unless I earned that spot. I could do that by being good enough to help the team win games. There was something very rewarding about setting my mind to something and getting it done. In fact, that was probably the first time I could remember doing that. It was a feeling I wanted to duplicate. I've applied it to my life outside, as well as inside, sports to this day. It's a lesson you don't have as much of an opportunity to learn if parents and coaches are doing everything they can to make sure everyone's treated equally and no one's feelings are hurt.