Calling a Traveling Violation on a 6 year-old? No way!

“Do the coaches call traveling during scrimmages?”

My son is not the most skilled basketball player and, at age 12, I was sure that he’d been cited multiple times during his first two days of basketball camp.  Moreover, I wanted to open the door to a conversation about how he was enjoying his time at the high school gymnasium this week.

“Yep.  The coaches are pretty serious.  They even call traveling on the little kids,” Yosef replied with certainty.

“Really?  How little?”  I questioned further with a pinch of judgement.

“Like Lincoln’s age – I guess the youngest kids are 6 or so.”  Yosef made reference to a family friend for my benefit, I’m sure.

I nodded, flashed an understated smile, saying, “That seems pretty young to be calling traveling.  What’s the point?”

With his typical grin, Yosef nodded agreeably – not wanting to go any deeper in the discussion with his dad today.  Yosef, I gather, detected that I didn’t agree that holding little kids to the strict rules of the games was warranted.

I didn’t think much more about the conversation until later on.  That evening I stood near my 5 year-old, Everett, at the local golf driving range.

I don’t play much golf, but my little son loves it.  Something about intensely swinging a golf club and whacking the dimpled ball twenty yards is cathartic for him.  I’d promised to take him to the range as a reward for a good day at home so, there we were, in the Florida summer heat with our $9 basket of yellow practice balls.

Standing about ten feet behind my son, shifting through work emails and occasionally glancing up to watch him, I witnessed about five vicious swings that sent balls everywhere.  I put down my phone, feeling the need to assert my dad-golf knowledge.

My lesson began:

“Everett, don’t swing so hard.  Easy does it.”  I used to hate when my dad said that to me.  But, damn, it does ring true in finesse games.

Whoosh!  Everett reared back and missed the ball – not heeding my advice.

Again.

And, again.

Whack!

Finally, after three unsuccessful attempts, he made contact – sending the ball into the ground about 15 feet from the AstroTurf threshold from which he stood.
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Again, I thought he could do better so I butted in.

“Everett,”  I interjected, “Keep your front arm locked and straight.  And, switch up your hands – just like in baseball – right under left.”

Sweat now drenching his brow, Everett, launched into a violent five-missed-swing tirade that ended as his back foot shook loose of his worn flip-flops.

Obviously blaming his errant swings on my uninvited instruction, Everett looked at me in disgust, “DAD!”

My lesson, today, was over.

Everett returned to his reverse cross-handed swing.  He missed the ball less.  He hit the ball the same, sub-par distance.  Everett, though, did so with a markedly better disposition.

As we jumped into the van, a thought entered by mind –

Why would I be annoyed at an official calling a 6 year-old for a traveling violation at basketball camp, but later insist that my 5 year-old use proper form in hitting at the driving range?

Is it my duty to coach my kids to perfect while others should take it easy and step off?  This didn’t feel right to me.

In these moments I realize that my expectations of what I feel coaches should deliver to my kids is often different from what I practice with them.

I tell myself that I want one thing for my kids’ sports adventures at this point – for them to be actively enjoying their time playing.  That’s it.  I just want them to have fun – no rules, no adults breathing down their necks, no pressure-packed championship game, no screaming fans, no agitated referees blowing the whistle for every meaningless violation.  Just have fun, I say.

Too often, though, I catch myself scoffing at a coach’s approach from the sideline or complaining quietly to the parent standing next to me.  It seems more difficult to hold myself to the same, “just fun” standard.

I need to try harder.

If a 6 year-old needs four steps to garner the strength to hurl the basketball eight feet into the sky, that’s fine by me.

It’s okay if the toddler soccer player grabs the ball while playing midfield – just put it down and start again.

If my tee-ball kids miss home plate or run toward third base first, so be it.

And, if Everett wants to swing as hard as he can with his right hand above his left, I should shut up and let it be.

After all, for little kids, the goal should be to, simply, just have fun.