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My parents only ever encouraged their sporting children, so I was 12 before I first heard a dad abuse his son at a football game.
It was after a match in the rain. We were being herded into our suburban change room, filling it with steam and laughter, picking the mud from our ears.
Most of our parents were pressing in, folding umbrellas, whispering small but important words, "Good game, son", just as we wanted. Warming our hands in theirs.
I can't remember whether we won or lost. Five minutes after most kids' games, no-ones cares much about the score.
One player, William, was being given more back slaps than any of us because he had just played the game of his life.
I remember telling him he was, "best on ground by a mile".
His father, skinny and mean, disagreed.
William's dad bent down and said to his child loud enough for a few of us to hear: "Don't believe anything they say, you were shit today. You didn't even go in hard."
I watched for William's reaction but the boy didn't flinch, wince or even look up at his old man. He just stared at the floor in cold silence, waiting for the moment to pass.
William didn't play many more games of footy.
I can only imagine the harrowing critiques his insecure father gave him in private.
It's not surprising some parents, even the most well-meaning, say the wrong things to their children before, during and after games of junior sport.
Watching your boy or girl compete is an emotional ride from elation to frustration and back. If you're not careful, you start to feel part of the action and imagine your child's performance reflects your worth.
The Let Kids Be Kids campaign is a beauty because it reminds us that we don't have to be as cruel as William's dad to ruin our child's sporting experience.
Caring mothers and fathers who shout out incessantly during games, "Get moving. Don't run there. Go after it. Shoot. Pass it. Go quickly, Get 'im. Get 'er. Oh C'MON!" can inadvertently suck the fun out of it.
Good coaches know too much instruction limits development of decision making, which is vital for enjoyment.
From a child's perspective, all that yelling increases the weight of expectation until the load is too heavy to lug around the field.
For their health and happiness, it's better to stick with encouragement, no matter how many mistakes you see, and best if you can support both teams with generous applause.
Don't be a back-seat coach
Post-game feedback is a test of patience for some sporting parents who have "played the game".
We have an impulse to pass on our "knowledge".
I tried giving wisdom to two of my sons after their first cricket training.
In the car on the way home, I lectured them on the merits of, "playing with a straight bat", and, "respecting the bowler", ignoring that at their age I was only ever a wild slogger who respected no-one.
The hypocrisy was shameful and the boys looked miserable hearing me go on.
"Dad, we just wanna try and hit sixes," one of them said, almost pleading.
Thankfully, it wasn't too late to see my error and apologise. I now give my advice on request.
Seems a good rule for any parent, coach, team, or club; reverse the roles and let the children teach us.
Do as the Let Kids Be Kids campaigners did and line your children up in front of a camera; ask them to tell you why they play sport.
Play it for all to see the next time someone on your side has a go at the kids while they're trying to have some fun with their friends.
Topics: sport, children, australia
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