I don't remember the first time my father cautioned me against "quitting", but his admonishments echo in my head to this day. I do remember the school track meet where it became painfully evident that a 25 second 100 yard dash wasn't going to cut it.
And that was just one of many events that my butt came in last. Something had to give. In my adolescent logic there had to be something better for which I was suited. Something that wouldn't make it so glaringly obvious that I was the fat kid that always came in last. Something that would still give my father and his WWII mentality the illusion that I was trying as hard to win as all of his platoon did on Iwo Jima....and still allow me to survive to adulthood.
As fate would have it, someone else came up with the idea. The track coach explained to me there were others that had better times (and longer legs) and he wanted those kids to have their chance on the team. He sent me to Mr. Whippet, the wrestling coach. That evening I explained to Pops that orders had come down from HQ and I had merely been reassigned. I had not quit. To my relief he was amazingly understanding.
Being the youngest in a pack of wild Cash boys had actually honed me for rasslin'. I didn't have run anywhere, the competition occurred right there on the floor. I took advantage of my weight and my survival instinct to stay on top. Somewhere there are school yearbooks that are a testament to the fact that I could moosh almost anybody's face into a mat and sit on top of them and make them holler "calf rope". I was not only good at it...I liked it.
And all that victory was a result of a desire to quit track.
So life isn't really as simple as we try to make it for those that we're teaching. I'm sure Pops was just trying to make sure he wasn't raising a quitter. But if I had stayed with the blind ambition he was trying to foster, I would be forever known as the fat kid that always came in last.
So I guess it's ok to quit, sometimes. As long as you have an out. So "not" quitting isn't really what we should teach young folks. What they really need to be taught is how to rationalize things in their own mind. And oh, what a Pandora's Box that turns into.
I guess I've got to go. My wife is hollering at me from the other room, "Will you please quit staring at that computer?!" :snarky:
Yesterday, I took a U9 recreation team to the 3v3 tourney. Our club is the host field for the New Orleans area every year. Year by year, the tourney attracts elite teams from SE Louisiana and MS. It makes the REC teams stay home.
Since it is on our fields, we enter teams for the fun of it.
Yesterday, they placed my U9ers in the U10 division since there were no other U9 teams entered. The pool was all academy and travel teams that have tourney and competitive experience. So we got smoked as expected. The boys played 5 games and it was one goal scored and they gave up about 60 goals. NO typo there : ( Like I said, these were REC players playing crème de la cream all-star teams from a 150 mile radius.
But I thought that they deserved something. So I pressed the tournament director hard and got his attention with some choice words containing an F bomb and by forfeit, they were named the U9 champions even though no other U9 teams registered. I thought of it more like receiving Purple Heart medals than an award. I had some kids destroyed psychically and physically but they survived to play another day…hopefully against boys on their level of play.
I guess there should be some tyoe of recognition for taking a horrendous public beating and humiliation. If you keep getting off the canvas beaten to a pulp instead of throwing in the towel, that is worth a lot IMO
Good looking bunch of rascals. From the photo it looks as though they have a good grasp on their performance.
Teaching someone to lose is a hell of lot harder than teaching someone to win. God bless you for what you did for them. I'm sure they'll remember it for a long time. If they don't, show 'em the pic!
You know, life ain't fair, but we all do what we can. I always told my sons that "fair" is word that you use when you try and get pre-schoolers to play together unsupervised...other than that, "fair" really doesn't apply to life.
Good job. And again, that's one great pack you've got there.
My modest athletic successes were mostly in Baseball.
1st year 1960 at age 7. 0.000 batting average, 1.000 on base average. Got moved up from no. 9 in the batting order to no. 2.
Played several years at 3rd without a single error, fielding or throwing.
Overall never did learn to hit. but one year as a sophomore had 3 at bats as a pinch hitter. Got 2 hits and a walk. 1.000 batting and on base average.
Had lots of fun doing it all.
B-)
"Are you a quitter?" Them's fightin' words, Boy.
Quitting was not an option. Not starting was OK, though. A bit like Yoda's comment of: Do or do not. There is no try.
We were raised to believe that if you started something, you needed to finish it, if physically possible. It was not an endurance race, though. Say you signed up for a specific sport. You lasted the season. The next time a season rolled around counted as a new start or non-start. No problem with a non-start. But, no quitting mid-season.
That reasoning probably explains why I managed to graduate from college. Quitting was not an option, no matter how challenging everyday life became. I can recall having $8 in my pocket and no chance for any more money for at least seven days. I can recall being up all night with a sick year old baby and showing up at 7:30 a.m. for a major exam in Electronic Circuits and Controls. Answering the call was essential.
That reasoning also probably explains why I remained married to wife number one for nearly ten years longer than most would have lasted. Gained two wonderful daughters during that time, too.
Boy?
> "Are you a quitter?" Them's fightin' words, Boy.
You call the Mississippi a creek? 😉
You're a good man, Mr. Cow, for your stamina and intestinal fortitude. Quitting isn't (and wasn't) a part of my early culture either.
My "sports" career was a fluke, however. At that age, we just signed up for "sports" and the PE teacher (vice principal) assigned everybody to whatever activity he felt we needed to be in. Cole and Holden were both track savvy and I guess that is how I wound up in track. My lateral to rasslin' was a blessing though.
Two years later I was starting defensive left tackle on the football team. My goal was to make sure whoever was opposite me on the offensive line remembered me...
(Bruce Springsteen's "Glory Days" playing softly in the background..B-) )
Boy?
Boy is the term I would use to address the questioner if someone were silly enough to walk up to me and ask if I were a quitter. Your's is a case of general inquiry, not specific inquiry, so you're safe.
How long has it been since anyone called you Boy? I'm guessing more than 50 years.
By the way, the Mississippi is a creek waaaaaaaaay up yonder in Minisoder.
There is the question about when it is ok to cut your losses and run?
Sometimes a healthy dose of realism needs to be injected into the situation and quitting may be the best option available.
Like all of the best things in life, nothing is black and white.
I quit smoking back in '89, and am proud of it.
If you start something, you must finish it. Be it a project, season, et cetera, you must finish. You do not have to finish well, but you cannot quit. If after having finished, you find that it is not suited to you, then you may find something else, but you cannot quit midstream. This was what was taught me and what I taught my son.
My son, is a helluva goal keeper. I mean really good! Better than I was. I trained him because I played for years. However, being the only one from Rusk in another town's league, he got the worst team every year.
His final season he played, they were getting beat every game. Morale was VERY low. He grew to hate the game. There was a tournament one weekend before the final game. It was double elimination. In the final elimination match, he was shot on 72 times! 72 times I say! He blocked 55 of them. His teammates yelled at him every time one got through and so did the coach (more of a sponsor really). My son was about in tears because he was so mad. I calmly walked out to him and said that he had to finish the season, but if he NEVER wanted to kick a soccer ball again, I would not be upset. Then I went and had a discussion with the coach about proper techniques dealing with kids and that his were, as I said "Piss Poor" and some other choice words.
As fate would have it, the last game was rained out. He has never played again but loves to watch it. I hope he gets back into it because he was VERY good as a goal keeper. He's not fast, but very focused. Had he had ANY defense on his side, they would have won by attrition.
As far as that goes, I practice what I preach and so does he now.
Boy?
"Boy" is a term that cam be used in several different ways.
My dad always introduces me as his "boy". Doesn't bother me in the least.
However, used correctly, the term "Boy" can be a great way to trigger a fist fight.
Are you a quitter? PADEN
Thanks Paden, send me an email, I need t send you something.
The thread on mentors below made me think of my soccer coaching mentor. He has 30+ years’ experience of coaching and refereeing at all levels. He is devoted to the sport and kids of all ages. If you walk out on the pitch with him, he puts his best effort into teaching you. His mentor was the former director of coaching for Louisiana Soccer who is currently the national director of coaching for U.S Youth Soccer.
A few years back while in a South Louisiana Kohl’s Cup tourney, he showed me the “Mercy Goal”.
We had a very talented group of U9 REC kids playing in the U10 division. They were eliminated from advancing late on a Saturday afternoon in a very competitive heart/spirit breaking match. There was one more game of pool play on Sunday morning against a team called the Twisters from a Parish about 20 miles away from the tourney site. The same distance that we had to travel. Usually, teams will bail on these games since they have no bearing on the outcome of the tourney. But the Twisters wanted to play even though the game meant nothing except pride, I guess. They had been the ‘raw meat’ of the tourney and were pommelled badly by all of their Saturday opponents. They were goalless
Score was 5-0 our favor at half time. In the second half, we placed restrictions on our team for scoring but we kept scoring. He had our best players on the bench and time was running down with the Twisters still goalless. So he told a few of the best players on the bench that they were going to go into the game and give them a ‘Mercy Goal” but they had to sell it. He explained what he wanted them to do and they were all in. They entered the game and one of the Twisters in the final moments headed up field . One of our players hit the ground like he got juked and slipped, then another slid for a slide tackle purposefully mistiming his slide. Then the Twister player approached the net with his strike and we were all praying that he would put in on frame. It was and our keeper in an Oscar worthy performance let it go in the net.
Boy! You never saw such a elated overjoyed bunch of Twister players on the field and on the bench. It washed their dismal weekend away. A goal is such a precious and priceless thing in soccer.
Plus our boys were taught to show mercy…
Blessed are the merciful for they shall obtain mercy.
Are you a quitter? PADEN
:good:
