No doubt if you’re reading this post, you know of the Sox 8th inning comeback last night from a 5-1 shellacking with an Ortiz grand slam to tie the game and then the win in the bottom the 9th.
Lots of video, pictures (especially the one of the Boston cop with his hands up while Torii Hunter only has his legs showing), and good writing about all of that. So I won’t try to improve on it.
But this morning I got the following email from a friend who is on a small Sox list that sends around cheers and cheering up at various times throughout the season.
I sent my son to bed at 5-1. He was so depressed about Scherzer dominating, I thought I was doing him a favor.
Worst. Dad. Ever.
I can certainly identify with his dilemma.
It’s not until after we’ve already induced the Sox obsession to our kid(s) that we begin to understand what we’ve done. (I’ve written about this previously, I Blame You and The E-Mail on the Kitchen Table.)
As parents, one of our roles, we think, is to protect our kids from hurt and disappointment. Somehow, we think we can do that.
Well, maybe the hurt part, if it’s a physical issue, is something that is right to do. But the disappointment part is an illusion.
No one knows that better than generations of Sox fans and their children.
To this day, after 60+ years of obsessing about the Sox, I find it difficult to watch certain games (see my last post, The Best Laid Plans… , about going to Tampa). In fact, I have kept the TV off for the first two games of the playoffs against the Tigers, knowing that it’s just too stressful for me to watch, tho I did follow the written play-by-play MLB coverage on my iPad.
But back to the father’s dilemma. To the dilemma we all face as parents.
When do we protect and when do we step back and let our progeny experience what life brings?
And is the above quoted dad being too hard on himself?
DD said:
Ah — I’m glad I was inspiration to you!
Here’s the rest of the story:
My jubilation woke him when I couldn’t contain myself in the bottom of the 9th after Salty’s game-winner. After he saw all the replays, I rewound the DVR to Papi’s grand slam so he could watch that as it unfolded. He was pretty groggy, but he mostly remembered it this morning.
But yes, I protected him from hardship and let him join in the joy when I knew it was joy.
Best. Dad. Evah?
DD
Lydia said:
Not WORST dad…I mean, there’s LOTS of examples of really horrifying things that parents do to their children, not least of which is indoctrinating them with the Red Sox bug in the first place.
Full disclosure: I don’t have a child. BUT, if I happen to ruin my future progeny with an obsession equal to yours with the Sox or my husband’s with Manchester United, I think it’s important to let them suffer through all of it — the lows and the highs. The game isn’t over until its over, and there’s something really important about knowing that.
Who knows, the game could have ended at 23-1, in which case there’s always something to learn from the loss and especially about the character of the team in the midst of a shellacking.
But it didn’t. And that shows a different kind of character trait — focus and hope.
Either way, powerful lessons that I hope I have the ability to let my child learn.
Bill Plitt said:
That’s a great question. To me it depends upon the child, the issue, the age, and the risks. If they are four years old, and crossing a busy street of course, there is no question about the role of the parent. Where there is a risk that would harm them physically, that’s pretty clear what we must do.
i once heard a long time friend say “By the time they are 16, the parenting is over.”
In some ways, as I reflect on our boys, it was sooner than that. I think our work is done at the point when they reach a stage of relative independence. They will make bad decisions without us on many occasions. As a parent, I hope such decisions will not lead to calamity.
As I get older, and my children who are now nearly middle age adults, I find myself biting my tongue a lot. Even when they ask for advice, they really don’t want to hear it. And so, I just listen and reflect on the chances I took as an adolescent, and wonder
how I ever made it this far. I don’ even want to begin considering the implications of this thought. Senility, blindness and deafness has some appeal.
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