Why youth sports matter more than pro sports

Brett Freeman

First, congratulations to the New York Knicks.

Their championship even got my attention, which is saying something. The last time I paid close attention to the NBA playoffs, O.J. Simpson was in the back of a white Ford Bronco and NBC was interrupting Game 5 of the 1994 NBA Finals to show the police chase.

So, yes, it has been a while. But even I can appreciate what happened this week.

The Knicks winning their first championship since 1973 is a great sports story for New York. And the scene with Jalen Brunson after the final buzzer was hard not to appreciate. Here was a superstar athlete, overcome with emotion, having reached the top of his profession. And nearby was his father, Rick Brunson, a former NBA player and now a Knicks assistant coach, sharing in the moment.

As a father, that part got me.

But I have never felt much emotional affinity for highly paid professional athletes. I also don't understand the strange phenomenon of fans celebrating a championship by damaging the very city they claim to love.

Maybe that is why, even after a championship, my mind went less to professional sports and more to youth sports.

As much as I enjoy watching great athletes do impossible things, I have become convinced that the best sports stories are found in school gyms and on local fields.

My son Jared started wrestling in third grade and continued through fifth grade. Around the same time, he was also playing tennis. Eventually, tennis won out. But I still credit wrestling with helping make him the athlete he is today.

For all the intensity of the sport, what always struck me was how much emotion there was in those gyms.

You will see boys who are fearless on the mat walk off with tears in their eyes. And then, after all of that emotion, the lesson at the end is simple: shake the other wrestler’s hand, shake the opposing coach’s hand, respect the official and respect the sport.

Throwing your headgear is not an option. Refusing a handshake is not an option. And if a wrestler forgets that, his own coach is usually the first person to remind him.

One of my favorite memories from Jared’s wrestling years came toward the end, when he was 11. It was a team-style event, with one wrestler per weight class, so each match contributed to the team’s overall score.

Jared lost his first match and his coach was not pleased, which is putting it mildly.

The coach challenged him hard. Very hard. Maybe harder than many people would expect a coach to challenge an 11-year-old. In that moment, my job was to take a step back, let the coach coach, and then be there for my son emotionally afterward.

The coach knew Jared. He knew what Jared looked like in practice. He knew what Jared was capable of. And he believed Jared was not wrestling up to his own ability.

Good coaches are not merely there to tell every child that everything is wonderful. Sometimes they deliver exactly the kind of tough love that is hard for a parent to hear from the sideline.

But those same coaches are also the ones who, when they run into your family around town, light up and give your kid a big hug.

In that moment, Jared responded. He won the rest of his matches that day and battled all the way back to third place, which any wrestling family understands can sometimes feel more satisfying than second place. When you finish third, it means you ended the day with your hand raised.

The team won a trophy, and Jared’s coaches told him to go get it. I will never forget that. More importantly, I do not think Jared will forget it.

When he eventually decided to stop wrestling, I asked him to write individual letters to each of his coaches. Each of them respected his decision and wished Jared well in tennis. That, to me, is youth sports at its best.

Tennis is quieter than wrestling and more polite. And while I loved the parental adrenaline rush from wrestling (it's the only sport where you can yell at your kid to trip their opponent), I am nevertheless thrilled that Jared has found his sport.

Tennis has its own pressure and its own drama, but I can still see wrestling in Jared’s tennis. I see it in his endurance, his footwork and his mindset.

One of his wrestling coaches used to tell the team, “You either win or you learn.”

That is a pretty good philosophy for sports. It is also a pretty good philosophy for life.

My daughter has had her own version of that lesson.

She danced when she was younger, and anyone who does not think dance is athletic has never watched how much strength, discipline and conditioning it requires. Later, she did marching band, which also requires more physical and mental toughness than many people realize.

She eventually stopped marching band and tried swimming. Many of the kids she was racing had been swimming for years, but she stuck with it and improved.

She also did winter track and spring track. And what I love about track and swimming is that, yes, there are winners. But for most kids, the real competition is with themselves.

A personal record is a powerful thing. It tells a teenager: You may not be the fastest person here. But you are better than you were last week.

And the benefits do not stop when practice ends. I am convinced that sports have made both of my children better students. They come home exhausted, but often in the best possible way. They know they have homework to finish, and they learn to manage their time because they have no other choice.

The mental health benefit may be just as important. Exercise has a way of clearing the mind and can change a child’s mood.

At their best, sports create community in a way few other things do. Kids from different backgrounds become teammates. Parents who might otherwise never meet sit together in bleachers, stand along fences, drive to tournaments and share the strange bond that comes from watching your child compete.

Sports are not perfect. Youth athletics can be too expensive and too specialized. One of the reasons Jared left wrestling when he did is because he didn't want to do it year-round, and the best wrestlers at his age were doing that. So were the best tennis players, and he had to make a choice.

Like any organization, it can get political. But when youth sports are done right, they offer something our culture desperately needs. They reward effort; they teach resilience; and they demand accountability. They create friendships across demographic lines that too often divide people in other parts of society. They remind children that excellence is earned, not assigned. And they teach kids to respect both victory and defeat.

So, yes, I congratulate the Knicks. Professional sports can entertain us. Youth sports can form us. The Knicks gave New York a championship. But in our towns, every week, on fields and courts and tracks and mats and pools, children are learning lessons that may shape the rest of their lives.