2008 Woodie Awards
Crazy parents should learn to show respect
Chad Eldred
Issue date: 11/1/07 Section: Opinions
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What, exactly, is wrong with parents?
I'm not just talking about any ole' parents, but the ones who obsessively watch their high schoolers playing some sort of sport from the sidelines.
A recent soccer game I attended had me shaking my head and pondering what this world had come to.
The match pitted two conference rivals against each other, so I anticipated a tough battle on the field. Little did I know as I slowly sank in among the throng of parents supporting both the home and visiting teams I would be witness to an up and close battle off the field.
It started out fine.
One mini-van drivin' Mom, let's call her LuAnn, obnoxiously cheering and yelling after every kick of the ball. Other parents, supporting their own kids, replying with a robust set of obnoxious cheers of their own. Soon, the voices got louder, hands started flailing and then it was on.
It had all the intensity of one of those Jerry Springer shows, but without an 800-pound woman throwing the conveniently supplied turkey and cabbage at her 90-pound husband for cheating on her with a lizard.
But I digress.
In a miraculous turn of events, the parents suddenly realized that yelling louder and at each other really would affect the outcome of the game. In fact, they finally understood that what happens on the field, with the kids who are actually playing the game, doesn't even matter - it's the parent's soccer game whether their kids like it or not.
When a player actually on the field got injured, though, even that didn't stop obnoxious LuAnn and her cohorts from their yelling match. It got to the point where I wanted to stand up and initiate the following scene:
I stride up to LuAnn, who seemingly just got done baking cookies for the Sunday school bake sale, and ask her: "Excuse me miss, but my name's Chad Eldred from the newspaper. Yea, I just wanted to make sure I got your quote right. Let's see, that was, 'Oh, suck it up and drag him off the field.' Did I get that right? And, oh yea, you were referring to that 15-year-old boy who may have just broken his ankle, right? OK, and your job, please? Ah, living vicariously through your child, very popular in these parts. Thanks for your time."
I'm not just talking about any ole' parents, but the ones who obsessively watch their high schoolers playing some sort of sport from the sidelines.
A recent soccer game I attended had me shaking my head and pondering what this world had come to.
The match pitted two conference rivals against each other, so I anticipated a tough battle on the field. Little did I know as I slowly sank in among the throng of parents supporting both the home and visiting teams I would be witness to an up and close battle off the field.
It started out fine.
One mini-van drivin' Mom, let's call her LuAnn, obnoxiously cheering and yelling after every kick of the ball. Other parents, supporting their own kids, replying with a robust set of obnoxious cheers of their own. Soon, the voices got louder, hands started flailing and then it was on.
It had all the intensity of one of those Jerry Springer shows, but without an 800-pound woman throwing the conveniently supplied turkey and cabbage at her 90-pound husband for cheating on her with a lizard.
But I digress.
In a miraculous turn of events, the parents suddenly realized that yelling louder and at each other really would affect the outcome of the game. In fact, they finally understood that what happens on the field, with the kids who are actually playing the game, doesn't even matter - it's the parent's soccer game whether their kids like it or not.
When a player actually on the field got injured, though, even that didn't stop obnoxious LuAnn and her cohorts from their yelling match. It got to the point where I wanted to stand up and initiate the following scene:
I stride up to LuAnn, who seemingly just got done baking cookies for the Sunday school bake sale, and ask her: "Excuse me miss, but my name's Chad Eldred from the newspaper. Yea, I just wanted to make sure I got your quote right. Let's see, that was, 'Oh, suck it up and drag him off the field.' Did I get that right? And, oh yea, you were referring to that 15-year-old boy who may have just broken his ankle, right? OK, and your job, please? Ah, living vicariously through your child, very popular in these parts. Thanks for your time."