Lunatics on the Sidelines

A Coach Who Focused on Fun and Respect Savors His Memories, Win or Lose

Good coach, bad coach, nurturing coach, denigrating coach, loud coach, quiet coach, motivating coach, self-serving coach, teaching coach, dad coach, mom coach.

I've met them all and many variations thereof. Standing and sitting on the sidelines during the past 15 years as a parent and as a coach, I have watched adults behaving in a way that bordered on the lunatic, sending out signals to their young charges that this kind of behavior is acceptable. On the sports field, parents are teaching kids to foul and cheat.

My introduction to youth sports was back in the 1950s, when I grew up playing baseball, hockey and basketball. Sure, we had the desire to win back then, but I never got the impression from any parent-coach that winning was the only option. For the most part, there were no parents on the sidelines, either to cheer or to interfere. We played after school, at a time when our dads were still at work and our moms, sexist as it sounds today, were mostly busy preparing dinner. Truth be told, we played largely to have fun. Sure, it was great to win -- but who even remembered by the next game?

Fast-forward to the early 1990s.

That's when I entered the fray with the simple intention of spending more time with my children during their formative years -- and ended up sticking around as a coaching alternative for kids who wanted to participate, learn new skills, meet new friends and, primarily, have fun.

My son began to play soccer, baseball and basketball for community-based sports teams and, as the years went by, travel soccer and basketball. I now had a new role -- part-time coach and full-time observer. To say that I was in total disbelief about how things had changed since my own childhood would be a gross understatement. I found not only that coaches thought winning was the only option but that they were willing to go to any lengths to achieve that goal. They would bend the rules of the game and hope no one was noticing. Sometimes these antics did go unnoticed, but not always.

I remember one basketball game in which a referee removed a player from a game for playing by his own personal rules. The player's brother, who was coaching the team, questioned the official in a not-so-pleasant manner and was himself ejected. Then, lo and behold, down from the stands came their father (a longtime coach himself), whose protests caused him to be thrown out of the gym as well. This is the kind of father-son bonding we need not encourage. Some people were not fazed at all by this reality show, having witnessed similar scenes before. But there are those of us who (silently) cheered, grateful that our kids could see that there can be consequences.

In my role as observer, I have found that many parents are no better behaved than the coaches. They think that while sitting on the sidelines, it is their right, if not their duty, to yell at and berate opposing players, game officials (I've seen young referees hastily leave the playing field and never return) and, most tragically, tear mercilessly into their own children.

So why, in this gladiator-type atmosphere, would I subject myself to the role of coach?

Coaching my kids gave me a greater respect for their individual talents. My son was the more natural athlete, playing his best but never giving up on the idea of having fun, too. My daughter, four years younger, excelled through hard work and perseverance and gradually learned to believe in the success she could achieve.

From the beginning, I wanted to be different. I made a decision: I would be an "alternative" coach, one who put top priority on preserving the ethics of sportsmanship, instilling confidence and motivating every player, from the star of the team to the beginner to the not-so-athletically inclined. I taught them all to do their best, work together as a team, play fair and treat everyone with respect.

While my coaching record is not what anyone would call stellar, I stick by my belief that winning isn't everything. My son went off to college this year, and my daughter is pursuing other high school interests, so you could say I've retired from the sidelines, at least for now. As I look back on all those coaching hours, I am convinced that my time was well spent. And, I have to admit, I grin when my former players still greet me as "Coach."

Jim Fishel is an Alexandria resident whose parents would have sent him to his room without dinner if he ever displayed bad sportsmanship. Comments:health@washpost.com.