Bits & Pieces

By Kim J. Harmon

It felt it – black, ugly and disturbing.

For a long time I have condemned parents for their incessant complaining about, primarily, playing time for their kids. I certainly understood how they must be feeling, watching their son or daughter languish on the bench without getting an opportunity to participate or contribute, but I never really got it since my kids played mostly rec league basketball where playing time was (supposedly) a right rather than a privilege.

Oh, I get it now.

It doesn’t change my position on the issue. I have always condemned the kind of complaining a lot of parents do (one phone call after another, meetings with school officials, letters to the editor) and I will continue to condemn it. All I’m saying is – I understand the situation a little better.

My son made the North End Middle School basketball team this year and got to play right away, putting in about 10 minutes in the season-opener against the team’s biggest inter-city rival, Wallace Middle School.

Ben played quite a bit in the next several games and even started once against Long River Middle School in Prospect.

But when North End squared off against Wallace again he never saw the floor and didn’t see the floor again when North End took on another inter-city rival, West Side Middle School. Neither time did I get ticked off because, quite frankly, other kids deserved to play more than my son – who had scored a few baskets, sank a few free throws, but was a little soft on defense and not quite aggressive enough on offense.

I had no problems … none at all. In tough games, a coach needs to keep a short rotation.

My son didn’t have a problem either, especially since his team remained undefeated. But then Swift Junior High School of Watertown came into the city and even after North End built up a 16-point lead with four minutes left in the game, my son still had not set foot on the floor.

That’s when it started – an anger that was like a black little ball roiling in my stomach. It was ugly and, admittedly, I was annoyed by it.

Even when Ben got on the floor and played three minutes it was still sitting there in my belly.

My wife was unaffected. Although she was disappointed Ben didn’t play more, early on in the season she decided to go out and cheer on the team and not just her son and it was a lesson I thought wouldn’t only work for me, but anyone else that gets easily perturbed when their son or daughter isn’t playing.

That’s when the little ball of anger twisting in my gut dissipated.

I realize far too many parents over-estimate the athletic ability of their children and I am determined never to do that. I know my son has a decent shot and good basketball instincts, but he is still inexperienced, not terribly aggressive on either end of the floor, and lacks some confidence needed to compete against some of the talent in these middle schools.

But he wants to play and, gosh, as I parent I want this experience to be a good one for him and, I know, it hurts when your kid is disappointed. The key, I think, is putting that disappointment into perspective and making it work.

After the Swift game, Ben complained to me about not getting in until the fourth quarter and then only playing three minutes.

Instead of telling him I would talk to the coach, I remembered what Newtown High School athletic director Gregg Simon tells athletes prior to the start of every season – that is, try to work out playing time with your coach on your own, instead of getting your parents involved.

I felt that an eighth-grader wasn’t too young to learn that lesson. So I told my son, “Don’t sulk about it – keep working hard in practice and then go up to coach and ask him what you need to do to get more playing time. Don’t complain about it; just promise him you’ll continue to work hard.”

Gosh, it sounds so reasonable. So why is it so hard?