Recently I was walking through our local park and came upon a sign near the football pitches. It was an initiative called “Silent Sideline.” The idea is that when kids are playing soccer the coaches and parents on the sideline are not roaring abuse at boys and girls who are putting their heart and soul into everything on the pitch. An admirable idea and I understand each team does it for a week etc. However you can have one silent side of the pitch and the other team, who is not partaking, shouting and screaming at their kids as if the World Cup was in earnest and taking place on a muddy pitch in the Dublin suburbs with a torn net and an out of shape referee.
The team who weren’t partaking in the silent sideline had an overzealous parent who was shouting “Ah Referee!” every time the nine year old on his team was deemed to be fouled. The ref had, had enough and went over. “Who shouted that?” he asked.
To which the parent in question began to walk up and down the sideline with his hands in his pockets whistling! Come on it was like a scene from a kids school, he was only short of pointing the finger at someone else and saying “He made me!” How pathetic, I thought to myself.
In fairness, though I guess we are all guilty. If it is not sport we all want our kids to do well in their music, ballet or acting class and any time they get a medal, certificate etc we want the world to know about it. Me too. I am guilty and want to shout from the rafters about anything good the kids do. But do we risk the chance of becoming bores? I mean let’s be honest we only put up good news stories on Facebook. Uncle John’s funeral mass would not make for many thumbs ups or likes. Or I just lost my job is not really a contender for too many “shares.” So it is understandable to an extent when we do get a little over enthusiastic when our little ones are in the throes of battle.
Last month my daughter was running and I got sitting beside a nice lady from Galway whose daughter was in the same race. We talked about the lovely day, the stadium, the training etc. We were getting on really well and just before the race was about to start she turned to me and said.
“Do you know what I really hate?”
“What’s that?”
“When parents on the sideline start screaming at the children.”
The starter fired his gun at that instant and as the girls sprinted forward I pursed my lips tight. I felt like a kidnap victim with tape across my mouth trying to alert the policeman who was walking past the factory where I was being held.
Everyone around us was screaming and I fidgeted in the seat writhing with frustration as she smiled along beside me. At one stage I actually whimpered! I have it on video I sound like a girl.
As the race drew to an exciting climax I didn’t know what to do, She must have thought I needed the bathroom such were my motions. So out of desperation and to allay my screams of encouragement I bit the side of my finger! In fairness I gave a more masculine grunt as the pain seeped in.
My wife who had been seated elsewhere came over after the race. After introductions etc she noticed the redness of my hand.
“What happened your finger?” she asked incredulously.
I just looked at her and pointed to the other woman.
“She made me do it.”
The team who weren’t partaking in the silent sideline had an overzealous parent who was shouting “Ah Referee!” every time the nine year old on his team was deemed to be fouled. The ref had, had enough and went over. “Who shouted that?” he asked.
To which the parent in question began to walk up and down the sideline with his hands in his pockets whistling! Come on it was like a scene from a kids school, he was only short of pointing the finger at someone else and saying “He made me!” How pathetic, I thought to myself.
In fairness, though I guess we are all guilty. If it is not sport we all want our kids to do well in their music, ballet or acting class and any time they get a medal, certificate etc we want the world to know about it. Me too. I am guilty and want to shout from the rafters about anything good the kids do. But do we risk the chance of becoming bores? I mean let’s be honest we only put up good news stories on Facebook. Uncle John’s funeral mass would not make for many thumbs ups or likes. Or I just lost my job is not really a contender for too many “shares.” So it is understandable to an extent when we do get a little over enthusiastic when our little ones are in the throes of battle.
Last month my daughter was running and I got sitting beside a nice lady from Galway whose daughter was in the same race. We talked about the lovely day, the stadium, the training etc. We were getting on really well and just before the race was about to start she turned to me and said.
“Do you know what I really hate?”
“What’s that?”
“When parents on the sideline start screaming at the children.”
The starter fired his gun at that instant and as the girls sprinted forward I pursed my lips tight. I felt like a kidnap victim with tape across my mouth trying to alert the policeman who was walking past the factory where I was being held.
Everyone around us was screaming and I fidgeted in the seat writhing with frustration as she smiled along beside me. At one stage I actually whimpered! I have it on video I sound like a girl.
As the race drew to an exciting climax I didn’t know what to do, She must have thought I needed the bathroom such were my motions. So out of desperation and to allay my screams of encouragement I bit the side of my finger! In fairness I gave a more masculine grunt as the pain seeped in.
My wife who had been seated elsewhere came over after the race. After introductions etc she noticed the redness of my hand.
“What happened your finger?” she asked incredulously.
I just looked at her and pointed to the other woman.
“She made me do it.”