I dig the comments section of this blog. Not only do I get to interact with readers, but plenty of posts are inspired by people asking for assistance I feel I can provide.

In this case, Evan Longoria’s guest post about the state of youth baseball here at Kaplifestyle prompted numerous comments. Reader Ben, with sharp self-evaluation skills and authenticity that I respect in another, identified himself as the (at times) overbearing father Evan eloquently inspired us to examine.

I’m a bit torn as I see things from a different perspective. I feel as though at times that I am “that dad.”

Ben gave us a bit of his background. He was a Division One athlete on the brink of signing a professional contract, only to fall short due to the numbers game in the Cincinnati Reds organization.

Having been involved in professional baseball in one capacity or another for roughly 20 years, I can tell you that the alleys of our sport are littered with stories like these. Unfortunately, being gifted with exceptional talent isn’t always enough. Baseball is a harsh business and falling just short of the childhood dream can be a difficult storm to weather.

Many men find themselves resenting this perceived misfortune. Shaking their fists at the baseball gods, they move on in life, have kids of their own, but always wonder where they might be if their paths had been slightly altered. Often times, there is nothing they could have done. Being in the right place at the right time isn’t necessarily a skill. In Ben’s case, the circumstances at his position partially dictated his fate. He was a catcher, and the Reds already had too many.

Ben, correctly or incorrectly, sees a further lesson. He needed to be pushed harder as a kid and may be holding his mother and father accountable.

I was never on your level, but in hindsight I do feel if I would have had someone there for me, maybe I would have gotten to your level

I think it’s important to be introspective and accept personal responsibility instead of blaming luck. However, regret doesn’t serve us well in life. It, like fear, guilt and other negative emotions, interferes with us making good decisions. All of us experience the moments of self-doubt and question what might have been, but we must fight against allowing those old memories to creep in and lead the way. They negatively impact judgment and throw up obstacles to our goal of long term happiness. From Huffington Post:

German researchers found that subjects over 65 who were happiest in their lives did not show remorse over opportunities missed as part of a game of chance, while those who were depressed did.

Our health and wellbeing, and that of our children, is front and center in our worlds. We all want our kids to lead improved versions of the lives we’ve endured. It’s admirable to strive to provide that outcome for them.

Ben is hell-bent on doing just that. He talks about his young man with great pride.

Along comes my son. He is a really awesome little five year old. He started enjoying baseball at a very early age. He wanted to do what his dad enjoyed. I have taught him quite a bit and he has become very good for his age. I don’t want to ever be accused of pushing him but at the same time I don’t want to let him down by being passive.

Two things jump off the page for me. The first is the honest checks and balance system Ben is trying to implement. He’s examining what approach will be best for his little guy. This is an absolutely critical role for a parent.

The second, however, is more problematic. The boy in question is only 5. It can be fun to discuss and dream on talent, but this is still a very young child. There isn’t a real need to sponge the best out of him yet, whether in baseball or any other endeavor.

When I was five, I was plenty happy with a lime and a plastic baseball bat. There wasn’t a talent evaluator on Earth who would have suggested that I had a shot to play in the big leagues.

I spent hours in the neighborhood as I grew, by myself, throwing taped sock balls and tennis balls against a brick wall and playing imaginary games. I never, for a single moment, felt pushed by my parents. From The Telegraph:

Ellis Cashmore, a professor of culture, media and sport at Staffordshire University, said today’s children were more likely to win The X Factor than become sports stars.

“My answer to parents who tell me their child might become a leading footballer or athlete is that they are putting them at risk of serious injury or closer to the world of performance-enhancing drugs.”

This is fairly extreme, but Cashmore’s point is correct. At Ben’s son’s age, no child is a superstar; they’re simply a five year old. How many parents can accurately and appropriately identify their child as a future star? Walk into any elementary school in your neighborhood. Statistically, there are zero professional athletes.

Of course, the stories of Serena and Tiger and their parents who “made them” rule the headlines, but how many stories of children scarred by their undesired hours on the court or field hide from the spotlight? At this age, they need love, expressed continually and unreservedly. Evan’s original point remains – if your child is talented and self-motivated enough to be standing out there under the lights, they’ll arrive.

Ben may not have felt enough care from his father, I gather.

I was the youngest of five boys and I don’t feel my dad was there for me. I made a promise to be there for my son and not let him figure things out on his own as much.

What a powerful, dominating thought. It fills my heart to see a father so devoted to his son’s life and happiness. But can’t this cut both ways?

I had an abundance of leadership on offer from my musician father if I wanted to learn piano. My mother, an early childhood educator, would have happily taught me everything she knew about the development stages of young people (perhaps I should have accepted before I had children of my own.) These things were not my interests. When it came to baseball, I received no guidance. Nor was I led in my desires to ride my skateboard and listen to profanity-laced music.

My parents didn’t necessarily endorse all of my interests, but I always felt safe. I amassed an enormous amount of satisfaction from “figuring things out” on my own. Granted, I was an independent-minded kid. I rode the school bus to the stop ½ a mile away, and then walked home to an empty house when I was 8 years old and in the third grade. While my ability to successfully manage this experience injected me with confidence, not all children are the same.

There is no perfect roadmap to raising children. Ben and I can offer our anecdotes, but these aren’t science. Our philosophies may differ, though our goal to raise happy, healthy men is aligned. Ben shared his tenet with me.

I believe in the school of hard knocks and don’t coddle my child. The only time I push him a bit is when he doesn’t try. When he says “I can’t do it” gets me the worst. I am very kind to him but will not let him use the lame excuses. We play all kinds of different sports throughout the year. Right now is tennis. When he is old enough he will likely play basketball.

Then he asked for mine.

Sometimes objectivity from a complete stranger helps. How did your dad parent you when it came to sports and more specifically, do you feel I’m going down the wrong path?

This is a question I can’t answer. I don’t know whether you’re going down the right path or the wrong path, Ben. One size doesn’t fit all when it comes to youth sports or supporting our kin. Hopefully this post will spark some ideas. Your son is five years old, who is determining that he will likely play basketball, you or him?

For me, the ideal approach is to let our kids lead. When they get excited, we get excited with them. When they get sad, we express empathy if it’s appropriate, encouragement if that’s the ticket. Sometimes holding them accountable is absolutely necessary. Even a nudge is useful from time to time.

The most important step we can take is to challenge what’s leading our parental behavior. Old guilt, resentment, anger and fear don’t allow for our best leadership to emerge. To counter this, we must observe ourselves closely. Abandon the search for the perfect words or actions; rather, examine the impetus behind whatever you do.

From a random lyrical breakdown to this? Phew.

Kap