.png)
Is it Possible?
Can we, even for a short time, put aside the pressures to conform our coaching to match the weekend games? Instead of fully discarding our idea of the "official game," what if we simply set it aside, allowing us to deconstruct the familiar notions of what great play looks like in our terms, and make room for something new? I understand this is difficult; it’s not easy to let go of the game we’ve all grown up watching and loving.
We’re surrounded by professional sports—it’s part of our community and a shared experience. Whether we’re cheering for a team or marveling at an unexpected moment of brilliance, those surprises are what keep us engaged, returning time after time to witness these modern gladiator battles.
But when it comes to our kids, there’s too much emphasis on conforming to adult standards and behaviors. As we stand on the sidelines, we often find ourselves torn. On one hand, we want our children to play freely, enjoy the moment, and develop naturally in their sport. On the other hand, we crave the proficiency, order, and complexity we see in professional games—the kind that makes sense, that follows a predictable logic.
This internal conflict is exactly what we need to confront before the game even begins. I suggest a different mindset, one where we allow for pure self-expression, where it’s not about perfect passes, polished dribbling, or impressive goals. Those things will come, but they’ll arrive in unexpected, irregular, and often surprising ways.
Think of it like playing an instrument. Yes, you have to place your finger exactly right to produce a true note, but playing a song (game) isn’t always about perfection or a 'performance.' Often, it’s not even about a song but experimenting with single notes. Sometimes, the offbeat, discordant notes provoke a reaction, sending shivers up your spine. In that dissonance, we learn something deeper.
Kids, like novices in any discipline, thrive in environments where their instincts and inspiration can flow freely. Can we let go of the rigid expectations of what the game should look like? Being proper doesn’t belong in the discovery phase, and childhood is one long discovery phase. Just as animals learn through play, so do humans. It’s essential that we don’t trap them in a prescribed idea of the game. There must be a level of abandonment, and I know how difficult that can be to accept.
We have two choices.
One, we continue telling kids how to play, modeling each scenario to avoid undesirable outcomes, hoping they’ll eventually adopt our version of the game.
Or two, we let go of these limitations. We release the tight grip of right and wrong, and in doing so, we create the space for new possibilities. By removing the limits, we allow young players to surprise us—and themselves.
When we’re trapped by our own ideas of what the game should look like, we stifle the creativity and unique expression of the young. They’re like butterflies in a jar, fluttering endlessly, waiting for someone to lift the lid and set them free. Butterflies don’t fly in straight lines; their paths are erratic, yet beautiful in their unpredictability. It’s this freedom that we should allow our children—not a jar of should and shouldn’t reign our thinking.
Our kids will find their way, each at their own pace. Some will get there faster, others slower, but what matters most is that they move forward in their own way. Maybe, by supporting them in playing their own game, we’ll help them develop a deeper appreciation for the game as we know it when they grow older.
“If nothing ever
changed, there’d be
no butterflies.”
—Unknown
Comments