Got Perspective?

I've heard the claim that soccer parents are the worst, but I really can't say I have an opinion on that because my son only played soccer for one season. If I go by that one season I would have to say they weren't, at least here in Traverse City, any worse than the parents in other sports. Some of the parents on my son's baseball team last summer were much worse than those at the soccer games and quite frankly, some of the worst I'd ever seen. You know the ones I'm talking about. They'll talk every player through every pitch, every play, and help to make positional adjustments for the outfielders...all from the comfort of those wrickety metal bleachers behind the backstop. They'll yell for baserunners to keep going even though the coach has both hands up telling him to stop. They'll pick on a 14-year old umpire who's doing the best he can and just wants to make a few bucks in the process.

Now that we're in the thick of hockey season here in Michigan emotions are running high. If little Johnny doesn't have a great showing at the Frozen Tundra Pee Wee Tournament he may not get that scholarship offer from Michigan State. Granted, he won't be eligible for college for another six or seven years, but hey, you never know who might be watching. That's why his Dad will stand behind the glass at the "goal scoring end" (it's called offensive zone, dad) and scream for Johnny to "Shoot it!!!!!" every time he touches the puck. If Johnny tries to make a pass to a wide open teammate, one who is in a much better position to score than Johnny, and the pass gets knocked away or intercepted Johnny's dad will throw his hands in the air, shake his head, and yell "shoot the puck!!!!!". He tried to make a good play, dad, chill out.

Where is the perspective in these people? Has life been so easy for them that whether their son or daughter wins a game is truly the most important thing? Do they not have enough confidence in their child to just let them go and play? Why talk them through every single action? Let them try some things on their own and make some mistakes. They'll fall down, dust themselves off and get back at it. They're kids and they're tough. Let them learn some things on their own through trial and error. Sit back, drink a cup of coffee, and just enjoy watching your child play. Before you know it they will be leaving home for college and then they will be a professional. However, it will likely be in something other than sports.

Every time I observe one of these parents I want to tell them the story of Jeff McCullough. Jeff played hockey for the Traverse City Central Trojans and I was his coach. In June following Jeff's junior year in high school he was diagnosed with cancer. He first had cancer when he was just eight years old, but kicked it and had been "clear" ever since. Now, it had come back and the road was going to get tough again. Jeff and I talked a lot while he was receiving treatments at the hospital in Ann Arbor, MI. He always told me how he couldn't wait to get back on the ice and start his senior season. Jeff didn't know it, but his dad had already told me the doctors said there was no way he would be able to play hockey. The cancer was back with a vengeance and the doctors didn't know how long Jeff had. It was eating him up and it would only be a matter of time.

By the time October rolled around Jeff was in very bad shape. On one last cold, frantic night Jeff's condition became the worst it had ever been. His parents carried him to the car on a makeshift stretcher they put together using bed sheets. Jeff wasn't strong enough to walk, but they needed to get him in the car and make the drive to Ann Arbor in hopes the doctors could save him. Jeff was alive when they arrived in Ann Arbor, but he passed away two days later.

In the days following Jeff's passing I spent a lot of time with his mom and dad. We talked about the great times we shared during the hockey seasons and how much we'd both miss that now that Jeff was gone. His dad told me some things about Jeff I never knew, some of which he followed up with, "Jeff would kill me if he knew I told you that." He was so proud of his son. Proud of the way he handled himself when he was a healthy, strong teenager and proud of how he handled himself when the cancer had taken almost every ounce of energy he had.

Jeff's dad often said he would do anything to have Jeff back to play just one more shift in a hockey game. He wouldn't have to score and wouldn't have to be considered the star of the game. In fact, he didn't even need to touch the puck. Just give him 30 seconds to go out and play, however he wanted to, and let his dad enjoy the moment. Jeff's dad doesn't have much patience for over zealous parents that take sports so seriously. In a way, he considers those parents lucky for having a life so easy they don't know any better. He also thinks it's sad they take their child's opportunities for granted assuming they will be here forever.

We have a home game tonight against Petoskey. Before entering our lockerroom I will pass by Jeff's retired number 14 which hangs in the lobby of Howe Arena. I'll stop for a moment and say thanks to Jeff for giving me perspective. Next Wednesday we play Traverse City West for the Jeff McCullough Memorial Challenge Cup. Win or lose I will take great pride in having the opportunity to honor an outstanding young man.