Sunday, December 03, 2000
Coaches' biggest pain? Parents
Pressure, criticism drive them from an already thankless job
I am a parent of a high school athlete, which means I'm liable to do just about anything.
Yell. Scream. Complain. Threaten. May I make a suggestion, coach?
My kid should play. My kid should play more. Why isn't he? My kid should be an all-star. Why didn't you nominate him? You're ruining his chances for an athletic scholarship.
It's your fault, coach. If you won't listen, I'll go to the athletic director. I'll tell him you're incompetent. I'll say you abuse kids.
I'm a parent of a high school athlete. I'm liable to do just about anything.
Only this year, I won't. I will keep my complaints bound and my opinions gagged. I will let the coach coach, because coaching in high school is a vital, sometimes thankless job that pays next to nothing. Someone making $2,000 for four months of his or her considerable time does not need to hear from the likes of me.
This year, I will shut up. Before I embarrass myself or, more importantly, my kid, who just started high school. He's on the wrestling team.
Lack of objectivity
We parents mean well. We're responsible citizens. We go to work, pay our taxes, help our neighbors and watch Who Wants to Be a Millionaire. But when it comes to our kids' games, we lose a screw. If we could hold a mirror to our faces in the first quarter, the fifth inning or the overtime shootout, we'd slap ourselves and swear never to act that way again.
Two ex-coaches talked about this Friday. One was Frank Zuccala, who coached boys soccer at Anderson for four years, until he quit after the 1999 season. Why?
“Parents,” he said. “As a parent, it's hard to view your children objectively. No matter what it is. But soccer for some reason breeds a severely unbalanced group of people.”
It's not just soccer, or Anderson. Meddlesome parents are everywhere. Coaches are disillusioned. They're dropping like flies.
At a preseason meeting of local high school soccer coaches in '99, Zuccala asked all the new coaches to stand. He counted 42 heads, out of 141 coaches in attendance. “After I left (Anderson), my job was open for six months. Does that tell you anything?”
Zuccala is a former Marine officer. He's built like a copy machine. “I like tough kids,” he said, “and I work them hard.”
In this age of sensitivity and self-esteem, some parents are scuffed by Zuccala's style. You can't argue with his results, though. In more than 20 years of coaching soccer, Zuccala has been a national coach of the year, five times an Ohio coach of the year and seven times a city coach of the year.
And he's not coaching high school anymore.
“(Parents) confront you. If that doesn't work, they go behind your back” to the administration, Zuccala says. “You're mean, you scream too much. Anything goes. If they can't have their way, they smear somebody.”
Listening to this was another former coach, who asked not to be named. He coached a girls varsity team for three years, until he got tired of parents telling him whom to play and trying to get him fired. We'll call him Steve.
“It's ego, mostly,” Steve said. Parents “live their lives through their kids. When anything happens to their kid, they take it as happening to them.” Steve never had a problem with a player, he said. “They were great. I miss them.”
But he won't miss coaching. “I was miserable coaching. Now, I'm in heaven. I'm a free man.”
Cheers, not criticism
Zuccala's 13-year-old son plays select soccer. Zuccala goes to the games. “Parents are screaming their bloody heads off,” he said. One mother even keeps track of how many minutes each 13-year- old plays. “They say to me, "How can you not say anything?' I tell them I'll cheer for my son, but I'm not going to scream at him, or the coach. It's his game.
“The natural inclination is to yell. The right thing is to enjoy your kids and the game.”
We meddle. We yell. We embarrass our kids in the name of supporting them. We teach them it's always someone else's fault. We teach them to act like jerks.
We should stop.
Zuccala said the next coaching job he takes “will be at an orphanage.” He was joking. Perhaps.
“Coaching is a lonely, lonely job,” he said.
Paul Daugherty welcomes your comments at (513) 768-8454.
Sports Stories
LeBeau's job rides on today's game
Saints' offer still haunts Bengals
Last chance for a W
Who's got the edge?
Bengals-Cardinals by the numbers
Players to watch
NFL Insider
SULLIVAN: Concepcion getting short shrift from Hall voters
Wisconsin 61, Xavier 46
McAfee struggles at small forward
WXIX blames satellite
Xavier women 89, Wis.-Green Bay 74
Marshall to play UC in bowl
Bearcats using down time to learn
UC women 84, Coastal Carolina 55
DAUGHERTY: Coaches' biggest pain? Parents
