I have been very very busy lately. And when I am busy, I tend to get a back log of things I want to write about, and very few of these things actually make it to the site before my mind wanders on to the next item. I think a lot during my drive to and from work (I have a commute now) and at lunch, and waiting on hold for T-Mobile to change my bill, or wherever I can let my mind wander for a few minutes. I think of a lot of things, and I get frustrated sometimes that I don’t have the time to sit and properly formulate and put down in pixels, a well thought out, and interesting essay on something I feel strongly about.

One of the topics that I have been meaning to write about, but just haven’t had the chance to properly put together, is my utter disgust with the bullshit hippie-parent movement that is ruining youth sports in America and preparing our youth for a life of miserable failures and disappointment. More specifically, somewhere over the past several years, fostering competition and keeping score in youth sports has given way to an “everybody wins” mentality where the scoreboards are dark, and everyone is just out to have a good time.

Now don’t get me wrong, kids should have a good time playing sports, and I think striving to create an environment where kids can play and enjoy sports without being pressured is a good thing. And I am certainly no fan of the overbearing sports dad who treats his kid as some sort of pawn through which he can attempt to re-live his own athletic glory days, but let’s get some perspective here.

I grew up playing soccer in a town where it was the only sport that mattered, and early on, the competition was intense. I started playing when I was five years old, and by age 11, I was attending premiere league (NCCL League at the time) tryouts where 50 kids were vying for 18 coveted spots on one of 8 teams that competed in this league state wide. This was before pissy parents who’s kids didn’t make the cut, opened up their wallets, and snatched their loser children off to the hills of Concord to set up their own teams where little Timmy could be sure to always have a spot on the roster. This was before the “everyone plays at the same level” and the “everyone wins” days. This was back when 50 eleven year olds went through four hours of drills and scrimmages, split over two evenings, while several adult coaches milled around with clipboards, making notes next to the box on the sheet that corresponded with the number pinned to your shirt. And once the two nights of tryouts were over, you waited for the letter. Everyone got a letter, this was the one thing that every player was guaranteed, but only 18 of those letters started with a “congratulations”. The other 32 letters started with a “thank you for attending the tryout” and ended with some words of encouragement that basically suggested you spend the next 12 months with a soccer ball by your side at all times, and maybe you will get one of the “congrats” letters next time.

The first year I tried out, I got cut. I don’t recall the exact feeling, but I am guessing it sucked at the time. Some of my friends made it, I didn’t, and that is a big deal when you are 11. I had shortcomings in some areas, I wasn’t good enough, and I didn’t make it. As I would later come to understand, that’s life. But it didn’t scar me (hell, like I said, I don’t even remember how awful I might have felt), it actually made me want it more. It made me work harder, and for an 11 year old, I worked as hard as I could. I played outside all summer, kicking a soccer ball off the side of the house thousands of times, occasionally trying to kick it into the basketball hoop in the driveway, and romping through my town team. The next year, I made the team. From then on, I continued to work hard and I continued to play at that level for the next six years, traveling to Europe one summer to play, and eventually starting for my college team as a freshman.

Though I didn’t realize it at the time, looking back on this event now, at 11 years old, this was the first in a long line of failures that any person needs to be prepared for in life. The girl or boy that dumps you, the job you don’t get, the college you can’t get into, or the sale you can’t close. It doesn’t always come up roses, and mommy and daddy aren’t always going to be there to make you a winner.

To put it simply, the world is a tough place. It is a tough place filled with tiny competitions that range from soccer team tryouts and spelling bees to business proposals and elections for public office…and if you aren’t prepared, if you go through life never knowing what it feels like to lose, you are fucked.

So to all of the parents who think that keeping score is a bad idea, and that everyone should get a trophy, I have two things to say to you. One, your kid probably stinks at whatever he or she is doing, and that’s why you feel this way (that everyone should win). And two, do your kid a favor and keep score. Because if he or she DOES stink, keeping score and separating winners from losers will only help to motivate your child to become better, and prepare them for life in the real world.

And to think, I was just going to intro an article I read over at r0ml’s site which hit this topic (as r0ml tends to do) in a very clear and concise way with a personal story. Check his take out here, it is very simply well put.