Parental Projection Will Muck Your Kiddos Up

Projection comes at our kids and at us from every angle.  I will start with  an instance of projection which was laid upon my son in baseball season and will follow on another day of a situation where I saw projection hurled at my daughter. 

 The male version of parental projection came no doubt from one of my many, many encounters with little league dads.  My son was a hell of an athlete.  He played most sports when he was younger, and I coached most of his teams.  My reason for coaching was to make sure no little league dads ruined this experience.  I had seen enough of that stuff by those backstage moms who infiltrated my daughter’s theater experiences. Well, one baseball game we were getting killed.  I mean the other team was run-ruling us on every inning. 

The 3^rd base coach for the opposing team had his kids steal on every pitch, I mean every frickin’ pitch they were running!  Our catcher was out ill and his replacement was not any good.  The kid was a wreck from the tension of dealing with all those base runners.  Kids know when they aren’t having a shining moment, just like we do, and they tighten up.  This kid was totally locked up.  

“Hey bud,” I hollered from the dugout to the other coach.  “Why don’t you take your foot off the gas a bit and quit stealing on every pitch?  Give this catcher a break, man.  He’s freaking out back there.”

 “You teach your catcher to catch, and I’ll teach my kids how to steal,” was his curt reply. 

 I wanted to walk out of that dugout and strangle that jerk right there on the spot. Instead, I walked out the back gate of the dugout and walked around under the bleachers until I calmed down.  

I’m from the day when dads brought their coolers to the baseball game and drank Schlitz in a can while their sons played ball.  Trust me, as a kid, I’d seen my fair share of little league dads going at it with the umpire or other dads.  Fist fighting dads at the ballpark!  What a great memory from my childhood! 

I wasn’t about to put those images into my son’s or his teammates’ heads.  Finally, I walked back into the dugout.  They were still stealing on us (every pitch!), which by now was almost always a pass ball as our catcher had the yips. 

Well, I’d had enough of this crap. 

I got as close to that 3^rd base coach as I could while staying in our dugout, and quietly said, “Hey man, just because you got cut from the team when you were a freshman doesn’t mean you gotta’ take it out on these 10 year old boys.” 

For some reason the guy stopped sending the runners. 

I don’t know why, and I don’t care why. 

I only care that he backed off the throttle.  

Parents get awfully caught up in projecting their stuff onto their kids’ lives.  Make sure you don’t, and make sure you defend the innocent ones when you see it being done to them.

          ….happy parenting….

Projection comes at our kids and at us from every angle.  I will start with  an instance of projection which was laid upon my son in baseball season and will follow on another day of a situation where I saw projection hurled at my daughter. 

 The male version of parental projection came no doubt from one of my many, many encounters with little league dads.  My son was a hell of an athlete.  He played most sports when he was younger, and I coached most of his teams.  My reason for coaching was to make sure no little league dads ruined this experience.  I had seen enough of that stuff by those backstage moms who infiltrated my daughter’s theater experiences. Well, one baseball game we were getting killed.  I mean the other team was run-ruling us on every inning. 

The 3^rd base coach for the opposing team had his kids steal on every pitch, I mean every frickin’ pitch they were running!  Our catcher was out ill and his replacement was not any good.  The kid was a wreck from the tension of dealing with all those base runners.  Kids know when they aren’t having a shining moment, just like we do, and they tighten up.  This kid was totally locked up.  

“Hey bud,” I hollered from the dugout to the other coach.  “Why don’t you take your foot off the gas a bit and quit stealing on every pitch?  Give this catcher a break, man.  He’s freaking out back there.”

 “You teach your catcher to catch, and I’ll teach my kids how to steal,” was his curt reply. 

 I wanted to walk out of that dugout and strangle that jerk right there on the spot. Instead, I walked out the back gate of the dugout and walked around under the bleachers until I calmed down.  

I’m from the day when dads brought their coolers to the baseball game and drank Schlitz in a can while their sons played ball.  Trust me, as a kid, I’d seen my fair share of little league dads going at it with the umpire or other dads.  Fist fighting dads at the ballpark!  What a great memory from my childhood! 

I wasn’t about to put those images into my son’s or his teammates’ heads.  Finally, I walked back into the dugout.  They were still stealing on us (every pitch!), which by now was almost always a pass ball as our catcher had the yips. 

Well, I’d had enough of this crap. 

I got as close to that 3^rd base coach as I could while staying in our dugout, and quietly said, “Hey man, just because you got cut from the team when you were a freshman doesn’t mean you gotta’ take it out on these 10 year old boys.” 

For some reason the guy stopped sending the runners. 

I don’t know why, and I don’t care why. 

I only care that he backed off the throttle.  

Parents get awfully caught up in projecting their stuff onto their kids’ lives.  Make sure you don’t, and make sure you defend the innocent ones when you see it being done to them.

          ….happy parenting….

Projection comes at our kids and at us from every angle.  I will start with  an instance of projection which was laid upon my son in baseball season and will follow on another day of a situation where I saw projection hurled at my daughter. 

 The male version of parental projection came no doubt from one of my many, many encounters with little league dads.  My son was a hell of an athlete.  He played most sports when he was younger, and I coached most of his teams.  My reason for coaching was to make sure no little league dads ruined this experience.  I had seen enough of that stuff by those backstage moms who infiltrated my daughter’s theater experiences. Well, one baseball game we were getting killed.  I mean the other team was run-ruling us on every inning. 

The 3^rd base coach for the opposing team had his kids steal on every pitch, I mean every frickin’ pitch they were running!  Our catcher was out ill and his replacement was not any good.  The kid was a wreck from the tension of dealing with all those base runners.  Kids know when they aren’t having a shining moment, just like we do, and they tighten up.  This kid was totally locked up.  

“Hey bud,” I hollered from the dugout to the other coach.  “Why don’t you take your foot off the gas a bit and quit stealing on every pitch?  Give this catcher a break, man.  He’s freaking out back there.”

 “You teach your catcher to catch, and I’ll teach my kids how to steal,” was his curt reply. 

 I wanted to walk out of that dugout and strangle that jerk right there on the spot. Instead, I walked out the back gate of the dugout and walked around under the bleachers until I calmed down.  

I’m from the day when dads brought their coolers to the baseball game and drank Schlitz in a can while their sons played ball.  Trust me, as a kid, I’d seen my fair share of little league dads going at it with the umpire or other dads.  Fist fighting dads at the ballpark!  What a great memory from my childhood! 

I wasn’t about to put those images into my son’s or his teammates’ heads.  Finally, I walked back into the dugout.  They were still stealing on us (every pitch!), which by now was almost always a pass ball as our catcher had the yips. 

Well, I’d had enough of this crap. 

I got as close to that 3^rd base coach as I could while staying in our dugout, and quietly said, “Hey man, just because you got cut from the team when you were a freshman doesn’t mean you gotta’ take it out on these 10 year old boys.” 

For some reason the guy stopped sending the runners. 

I don’t know why, and I don’t care why. 

I only care that he backed off the throttle.  

Parents get awfully caught up in projecting their stuff onto their kids’ lives.  Make sure you don’t, and make sure you defend the innocent ones when you see it being done to them.

          ….happy parenting….