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El Gallinero Gros
Mar 17, 2010
I'll never forget this.

I was not a good baseball player. I am what one might call a fourth outfielder: My defensive skills were solid, and I could swipe a bag or two, but I could not hit for poo poo. I think I got a stat sheet at the end of the 1 season I played and I hit something like .215. I got to play a lot because, a)I had a habit of getting on base in the most non-conventional ways possible, b)Our manager was a good, supportive man who understood that above all else, little league is supposed to be fun.

One day though, I either was dialed in very briefly, or I got a real meatball over the plate(he'd struck me out twice on like, 8 pitches previously, so he was likely just tired), because I hit a line-drive off of a guy for a double (probably my only extra base hit of the year) and ended up scoring on a fielding error. He had a no-hitter going into that at-bat. It ended up being the winner. I don't say this to make myself look good, merely to set up the payoff: That guy's dad was the team's manager. And holy poo poo, he utterly loving humiliated this kid after the game in the parking lot. Told him how worthless he was, referred to me as a punch and judy hitter (true, in his defence), yelled at him about not throwing more breaking pitches (he was 12, and my understanding is kids that age REALLY shouldn't throw breaking balls if they can help it because of what it can do to their arm), called him a half-fag (don't ask me to explain that, I got nothin'). My dad, who picked me up, almost stepped in, but thankfully the kid's mom was there and put a stop to it, if at least temporarily. The real shame is, I went to school with this kid, and he was one of those popular kids who gets along with everybody, no matter how low on the popularity food chain they are.

I have never felt worse about doing something good in sports.

bewbies posted:

I played high level hockey all through my formative years and it was never really that bad. There were incidents etc but in general parents just wanted to drink beer and find ways to get to a TV to see whatever football game was on. This was a while ago, though. Soccer was way worse in that regard, at least for me.

Now...what I'm curious about is tennis. I only started seriously playing tennis as an adult and have never seen a youth tournament. At the courts I play at, theyhave signs EVERYWHERE saying things like "YOUR KIDS ARE WATCHING" and "THE IMPORTANT THING IS BUILDING CHARACTER NOT WINNING SO CALM THE gently caress DOWN" and "WE WILL KICK YOU OUT IF YOU ACT THAT WAY". I'm really curious what prompted all of these zoo signs and I would have liked to have seen these incidents.

My understanding from the one guy I knew who played competitive tennis was part of the problem is many parents are also their kids' coach. That can turn out really poorly, obviously.

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El Gallinero Gros
Mar 17, 2010
Ugh, I just had a thought: One of the things that spawned this thread was the discussion that people like Gretzky, Crosby, etc must have heard and been subject to some awful poo poo because of their talent gap. We then agreed that most people who have played significant time at high level hockey have probably been subject to this, even if they weren't great players at the pro or major junior level, because at one point, or another, even if they were only 13, they were the best guy on the ice.

Imagine the poo poo PK Subban heard. Gross.

El Gallinero Gros
Mar 17, 2010

glynnenstein posted:

I topped out at glory-starved Div II college hockey where the post-game/practice beer source was the most challenging issue to gameplan. I did, however, play with some actually really good guys at the prep level in the DC area, so it's a welcome miracle that I didn't endure or witness abuse from the politico 1%ers bankrolling my classmates' DUI habits. My own father, a genuinely good guy, is still pretty vague on most of the rules of the sport, so he made it out to every game to shout amusingly generic support. While focused in the heat of play I was never aware of his cheering outside of one particular attempt to check an opponent. As a 6'2" 180 pound 17 year old I usually had size in my advantage, but physics won out when I shouldered an off-season left tackle who had to be tipping 275. As I literally flew through the air toward my own net I heard my dad's distinctive voice: "Oh wow!" followed by his guffaws as the laughter spread through the other spectators. It's one of my fondest memories of high school.

On the other hand, we imported some coaches in the style of "Iron" Mike Keenan from the rural backwaters of Saskatchewan over the years. One major-junior washout we borrowed from the Canadian embassy spotted real potential in our freshman goaltender when he saved some of his 90mph slapshots during a show-off session. He spent the season hammering terrifying missiles at the kid when he wasn't berating him to skate faster in our sprints; I suppose the extra pads weren't a good excuse for a lack of speed. I can be pretty confident this coach succeeded in removing fag passes from our game along with tendencies to act like fuckin' pussies when we had our bell rung. Not clear if he can take credit for that goaltender quitting the team and running away from home later on; adolescence is a complicated time, eh.

This is a fabulous sentence, goddamn.

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