Monthly Archives: March 2013

Touchline dilemma

There’s a break late in the game. The opposition winger is deep in your team’s half. Your left-back has tracked back and has the winger in his sights. Your centre back is heading in the same direction. The rest of the outfield players are distant, with one exception: an opposition striker is making rapid progress into your penalty area.

I’ve described my approach to following my kids’ sporting ventures: the art of supporting, while not supporting. Bellowing at the players has no part in this policy. But there’s policy and there’s practice.

The game is close, a 2-1 advantage to your team. A cross from the winger will find the striker with just the keeper between him and the winning goal, unless your centre back stops his run towards the corner flag and marks the striker lurking behind him.

Junior athletes learn best from experience. A reliance on instruction from coaches can create a dependence that stunts players’ development. The importance of not getting caught upfield and of being aware of opponents making runs are important lessons.

The winger stops, looks up and sees his teammate enter the penalty area. Your defenders have their eyes focused on the ball – your keeper does, too.

The match is a semi-final. Victory would take your team to a final at a semi-pro ground. What a learning experience that would be. Or the match could be a relegation decider. A draw would send your team down to a division where most of the opposition are of a standard that wouldn’t stretch your team – a whole season of marking time.

Your team’s coach has seen the threat. But he doesn’t shout and the wind whipping across the pitch would carry his voice away from the centre back who’s continuing his run towards the winger, alongside the left back.

The centre back is your son. He takes defeat hard, getting upset and remaining down for the rest of the day if he thinks he’s had a bad game. You’ve also heard some of his teammates complaining about him after matches.

One shout from you and he could check his run, intercept the pass, save the game, get the team into the final (or escape relegation), earn the praise of his teammates.

What would you do?

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Competition time

From my position in the audience, sprawled on a mat, there are gymnasts spinning, jumping and soaring across my whole field of vision. To my right the floor routines; beyond which is the beam; straight ahead the vault run-way to the vaulting horse, which stands in the background of the uneven bars which I turn to my left to see. All in the same image, I see someone swinging through the air, another gymnast bounding along and a third wheeling away. Well-ordered as it is, the sheer movement of bodies makes it feel like I’m at an acrobatics display at the circus.

In amongst these twirling bodies, the slightest and most fragile looking of them all, is the one & only daughter (1&onlyD). The event is her gymnastic club’s annual competition. It’s a closed event, taking only members of the club – in fact the boys and girls who practise alongside each other twice each week, forty weeks a year, for two hours of conditioning, and technical practice. 160 hours of practice and barely two hours of competition.

At the same age – nine – no. 1 son was playing a football match each Saturday morning and training one evening each week. A ratio of one hour competition to one hour training. Eighty times more competition, relative to practice, than his sister.

What is the right amount of competition for juniors? It depends on factors such as age, competence and the sport itself. Gymnastics is a technical discipline where the performance is the execution of a tightly planned series of moves. Practice edges the performer closer towards perfection. Football is a fluid activity, where players respond to and seek to influence the flow of play. At all levels of these sports, gymnastics will have a higher proportion of training than football.

The right amount of competition also depends on the individual child. Some kids shrink in the face of the ordering and ranking that competition implies. Children of that nature should be spared that discomfort or they may never happily engage in sport.

My kids, perhaps led by no.1 son’s example, revel in competition. Games only engage them if a winner is to be found. Mundane activities such as eating tea with good (ha!) manners come alive if there are scores to be awarded. Conversations may loop in all directions, but eventually swoop back towards establishing who’s better, what’s bigger, faster or more popular.

I wonder how the 1&onlyD continues to motivate herself without the regular challenge of competition. The answer isn’t hard to find. She’s gradually mastering more and more moves; in recent weeks: backward walkover on the beam, back flick on the floor and soul circle into upstart on the uneven bars. Golfers compete with the course. The 1&onlyD is continuously taking on the apparatus and challenging her own body to greater contortion, exertion and courage.

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