I have a thirteen-year-old son who plays competitive tennis. That makes me a "tennis dad". Lately, I don't think I'm doing so well in that role.
I remember hearing a statistic that more than 95% of problems associated with junior sports are the direct result of parental behaviour.
One of my son's most dynamic coaches shared some wisdom with me three years ago: "Your job, Robert, is simple: support him financially, support him logistically, and support him emotionally. That's it."
In other words, pay the fees and buy his clothing and equipment; drive him to the courts; and deliver unconditional love and support before and after he plays.
Sounded really simple. I can do that.
Buying stuff is easy. I've been told I can really shop. Driving? Being home-based with my work and his schooling, I can get him pretty much anywhere, anytime.
Then there's that third one. Emotional support.
I can do that. It's my job, as a father, right?
Here's what really happens: When Andrew's play slips during competition, I start to fidget, and my stomach muscles tighten. If points and games slip by, fidgeting leads to pacing. If Melissa is nearby, I externalise my discomfort by providing colour commentary about what he's doing wrong, or what he should be doing. (She knows enough not to listen to me.) Often, unable to put up with my incessant chatter, she'll gently move away to cheer him on from a more peaceful vantage point. I love my wife.
I recently found comfort in a friend who is a lacrosse dad, and who suffers from some of the same sports-related challenges I do. He does the same things on the sidelines that I do. He mutters the same sort of things that I mutter. His wife even does the same thing Melissa does!
My friend believes there are many, many more of us out there. Do I sense an opportunity here for a care group for sports dads?
But seriously, I really don't want to damage my good relationship with my son. I am well aware that fathers who don't manage this sports thing very well can do a lot of harm.
As a counselor, I've heard stories first hand from men and women who've grown up excelling in their sports, but "made it" at the cost of a damaged or broken relationship with a parent. Most often it was with the dad.
"Fathers do not embitter your children, or they will become discouraged." ~ Colossians 3:21
Other folks have told me they grew up with fathers who doled out love on the basis of behaviour or performance. In sporting terms, when they won, dad praised and embraced, but, when they lost or didn't perform up to dad's expectations, emotional distance set in. For some, working through the pain of having to earn a father's affection takes years of counseling in adulthood.
What do kids want?
Ask 100 junior athletes and I'd guess fifty want to meet some new friends, seventy-five want to have fun, ninety want to win, but every single one of them wants to be loved unconditionally by their parents.
I have a great relationship with my son, on every level, except one: when he plays poorly and loses a winnable match, something changes inside of me. I'm ashamed to say that I feel emotionally unsettled for a number of hours. My entire family knows it the second I walk in the door. It feels biochemical. It feels weird.
While my friend and I were talking, he shared a quote of Dean Smith's ...
"Don't treat every game as life or death. For one thing, you'll find yourself dead a lot."When I drive Andrew home after a disappointing match, he knows he didn't play well. Melissa says he notices it when I get up and pace at his matches, or walk away for a time. It only makes matters worse that he's waiting for the "shoe to drop" in the car. That has to change.
My friend who shares my struggles does a better job at dissipating his frustration. After a loss, he and his lacrosse-playing son go for ice cream or Slurpies. If dad has something to say, he thinks about it for a couple of days, and then expresses his thoughts in a positive or encouraging way. I can learn a lot from friends like this.
What does it take for me to be a more "sporting" father?
I obviously need to learn how to be gentler and more supportive with my son when
he needs it the most. He's a talented athlete, but he's also a sensitive young man and a precious gift from God.
I need to learn how to provide fatherly inspiration without providing unsolicited advice. He has a coach. I have the higher privilege of being his father.
I need to drive him to and from matches without driving him away from me by criticizing his play, or putting him on the defensive.
I need to deliver genuine love that looks the same to him, win or lose. Regaining his trust in those few key moments is going to take some time. I'm starting right now.
Far more profound than all of this, however, is the fact that a child's early concept of God is shaped by a his relationship with his "earthly" father. For Andrew and his sisters, that's me. God's unconditional, sacrificial love isn't going to make a lot of sense to any of them, if they interpret my love as somehow tied to their performance.
So, as both a father and a ministry leader, I have a high responsibility to point my kids to God by how I live by faith, during the fun and easy times -- yes, but even more importantly during my most difficult and challenging moments.
Pray for me. It's not easy being a tennis dad, but with the Lord's help, I'm gonna get there.
