Being an Athlete…

It’s funny to me that a single word can be loaded in such a way that the repercussions of genetic ability and the activities that coincide with your giftings have the ability to be influential in every aspect of your life for years after your life as an athlete has long concluded.

My disposition and certain bends have internally contributed to my success as an athlete. My obsession with detail, my need for structure, cravings for routine, and an all-or-nothing effort all helped me to become the athlete that I was, but what do I do with those characteristics when there isn’t a game to prepare for? 

The mental constructs created through the channeling of those characteristics into a sport have had effects on every aspect of my life post sport. My view of self, my marriage, and most recently fatherhood.
 

Sports taught me how to do a lot of things. They built me up and tore me down in equal proportions. When sitting down and thinking about the potential effects of athletics on my parenting style I landed on two things centered around response. 

Number one. 

I will preach to my children to an annoying extent; even if you didn’t do this cool thing that you did. I would still love you. 
You scored a goal!! That’s so cool!! But even if you didn’t do that, You know I would still love you. 

Your team won the championship!! You worked so hard. I am proud of you. But hey, you know that even if you didn’t play (insert sport here) I would still love you right? 

You got an A on your test! Dood, I am so proud of you for studying and putting in the time, but even if you wouldn’t have done that well, I still love you for who you are. You know that right? 

My parents loved me so well growing up. They bragged to anyone with ears about their kids. What we were doing and who we were. It was great. Until I wanted to quit football and my first question was “I wonder if my parents will still love me if they dont have the ability to tell people that I play D1 football.” 

A silly thought and it put my dad in tears when I asked him if he would still love me if I wasn’t an athlete anymore. His response was “bubba, I love watching you play football, it is a lot of fun for me but I love you for who you are and for the man that you are, if you want to quit football and that is what is best for you then that is what needs to happen.” 

My parents were great and I am sure they told me over and over they loved me for things outside of what I was doing but at the time I don’t think I heard it. And honestly, I don’t think I would have wanted to hear it.

I loved being able to collect praise from people for the things I could do for them. It felt good. And truthfully I was able to do a lot of things for a lot of people. In my humanity, that made me feel good. But as I am learning, what happens when you can no longer do anything measurable for anyone?

I can’t keep track of my receptions, yards, and touchdowns. There is no film to be critiqued and no highlight tape to be applauded. Why then would you love me if I can’t do anything for you? I will make sure that my children hear that I love them, for them through repetition. I will repeat it to them and they will echo it back to me because this is something that I am actively learning and walking through today. 

Number two 

deals with my response to my friends, in all things but especially in parenting. 

Being a father has taught me how to tightrope the mental landscape of grace and discipline. Well it is attempting to teach me. I fall off a lot and thank God for friends who’s words act as the net to catch me. I can’t accurately give weight to the words that have encouraged me in moments when I felt like a complete failure as a father.

This is where my experience as a dad is starkly different than that as an athlete. Failure is met with “hey you did that too? No way! My baby also rolled off the bed. At least you made it 6 months before it happened. Congrats.”

That is Just a little bit different than,

“Parsons you see that block you missed there. Rewind it. Okay no, watch it again. Are you an idiot? You have to be an idiot. Rewind it. Johnson, you see what Parsons did here wrong? Do this differently. You know what? Actually Johnson, tomorrow we are gonna just have you take first-team reps because obviously, Mitch can’t do it!”

I think that would be something positive that I have learned in my life post sports.

The importance of grace and the value of the first response.

I understand. Our baby rolling off the bed is not a good thing. But being reprimanded immediately helps no one. Making adjustments and learning from the experience has more value than a slap on the hand. I want to take that into how I speak to my friends in all areas of life.

My wife and I have been the pioneers for most things in our friend group. First engaged, married, having a dog, buying a house, having a baby. We haven’t had a whole lot of help in the how the hell do we do these types of conversations. But now all of our friends are following us and that gives us the opportunity to give advice and to teach! I have learned through sports and my previous coaches exactly how not to do that. 

I have learned through writing these last couple weeks that there are a lot of things in my life that are a result of my sports experience. A lot of them seem to be out of my hands and I am having to learn how to navigate life with them. But there are key things that I have picked up along the way that have the potential to shift trajectories of my own life, but also to pour into the life of the people around me.

Sports were significant to my life. They bring feelings of both triumph and pain and there are lessons to be learned in both.

My challenge today is to break the lens of what I was taught was right.

How do I take the experiences I have walked through and apply their inverses? The lessons learned were what I don’t want to be. That perspective was new to me.

Mitch