SEVEN-PART SERIES

Practice What You Preach

One of the most overstated phrases ever might just be “Do as I say and not as I do.” Although that statement makes more sense to me now, it didn’t make much sense to me growing up.  And, I learned a most valuable life lesson through one of my greatest shames. 

Before playing junior high and high school basketball, I was groomed in the Alpharetta Parks & Recreation leagues, playing point guard for whatever team my dad was coaching.  My dad, a very imposing figure at 6-4, 200-and-something pounds, always took every game seriously, and everyone on the court and in the stands knew it.  While opposing coaches wore the standard khakis and a collared shirt or a pair of jeans and shirt the color of the team uniform, my dad came to each Saturday morning game wearing nothing less than one of his finest suits, ties, and dress shoes. 

And, seeing that he played college ball and had been following basketball his whole life, he often did more than let his suit do the talking during games, especially toward the referees.  Interestingly, on top of coaching his heart out every week with our team, my dad made it a sport to hound the game officials with every bit of second-guessing, belittling, and downright insulting comments he could think of without getting hit with a technical foul.  Pretty much, his whole demeanor dared any referee to even think about tossing him from the game. And, for the most part, it worked to perfection. 

Not surprisingly – as the old saying goes “like father, like son” – it didn’t take much for me to start joining in on the referee-bashing charade too – with the only minor difference being in that I was a barely five-foot-tall, rail-thin, squeaky-voiced 10 year old that probably couldn’t scare much of anything at the time.  

I still remember clearly to this day my first technical and the unfortunate aftermath that resulted.  I never had much of a jump shot, so I was forced to do most of my damage on the court in the lane where little point guards often get treated like pinball machines by much bigger and taller players. 

On one particular morning, I took an awful beating while driving through the lane for a layup, missing badly with no foul called.  As everyone went back down the court, I passed by the unsuspecting official and squeaked out, “Hey, Mr. Ref… when you get home you should check your answering machine cause you’ve been missing calls all morning.” By the time the next ball was bounced, the appalled official screeched his whistle and motioned for a technical foul against me. Just as quickly, my dad – even though he was definitely out of an earshot of my comments made  – took me out of the game and let everyone in the whole gymnasium know the reasons behind the benching as he laid into me.  

You want to run your mouth, then sit on the bench. Thinking you can talk to the ref like that?!?  You play and I’ll do the talking!  And, I’m sure that somewhere in his berating was a “Do as I say and not as I do.”  

That’s the day I learned that I could not do what my dad does and get away with it.  I also learned, however, a little something about hypocrisy that day, which leads me to my next point.

In basketball, referees – even the ones that are in need desperate need of an eye exam – are the authorities on the court.  And, with this authority, coaches and players alike are supposed to abide by the calls and restrictions laid out by the officials. So without even knowing it, my dad through his actions with these referees was subtly teaching me to defy authority whenever I felt necessary, and that I could get away with it if I played it right. 

Granted, it’s a natural tendency for children to attempt to defy any brand of authority, but I sincerely believe that seeing it modeled by a parent or coach (in my case, both) did more to increase that impulse than to decrease it.  Unfortunately, I happened to carry that attitude even stronger in sports, at school, and at home throughout my childhood and into young adulthood. And, it got me into trouble growing up – a lot of it. 

Now, my dad and I – two people who have mellowed out a lot since then – laugh about the havoc he used to wreak on those recreation leagues, particularly the fact that they had to implement a “seatbelt rule” for all coaches to stop his constant bombardment of the referees. The seatbelt rule simply stated that if a coach ever got out of his seat during the game, it was an automatic technical. In fact to this day, we’ll still jokingly put the seatbelt rule on each other the few times we find ourselves in an impassioned discussion, usually debating some sports topic. 

But simply put, children really do model the behavior of their parents.  And, since nonverbal language speaks so much louder than anything verbal, parents and coaches alike have to be conscious of practicing what they preach. 

As an adult covering football, I’ve heard from high school players firsthand that the coaches who are seen helping to line the field before practice, or their car can be spotted in the school parking lot during weekend hours and occasional holiday vacations, end up earning certain players’ undying respect.  And, players will still call and visit these dedicated high school coaches years after they graduate, hinging on their every athletic, academic, or professional directive. 

As parents, the rules do not change, particularly in the case of the last post, “Finding Time for Family.” 

Children, at best, are only going to put in the same amount of time and energy into their family as they observe their parents doing.  That means parents should try not be too consumed with their professional careers or social lives and then expect their children not to be overindulged by their separate social lives at school, which every parent knows is a short road to a multitude of troubles. 

Parents dedicated to family and those who consistently practice what they preach fare much better in getting their children on board with the program, and in turn, help to develop a winning culture within the family that spreads everywhere else – football fields and basketball courts included.

Next week: Mutual Respect Wins Out

Written by: Jordan R. Yates, MA MFT, LAPC, Children, Adolescent and Family Therapist at Restoration Counseling of Atlanta