The Boy Gets Taunted

The boy finally got back to playing soccer this weekend after a 2 week hiatus due to Columbus Day Weekend and a Scout event the week prior. The flow of the game itself was interesting. The opposing team seemed to be slightly better- they had better spacing and seemed to have more guys aware of the ball and able to track it better. They outplayed the boy’s team in the first half.

But then the 2nd half started, and it was like an inverse of the first. The boy’s team spent most of the half attacking and keeping the other team on their heels. They were down for most of the game, but they’re constant pressure yielded some late goals and they were able to eke out a tie that felt more like a win.

The first thing the boy said when he got off the field was “I don’t ever want to play that team again. They were mean.”

So I asked him why they were “mean.”

He said they were saying some nasty things out on the field, including calling him particularly an “idiot.” Seems at some point his feet got tangled with one of their players and their player went down while the boy did not. That happens a lot actually, because the boy is bigger than most kids his age. After that minor altercation, the taunting began.

Not being on the field myself, I can’t judge to what degree it went to. It could be anywhere from a one-off heated comment to a full-on any chance they had to do it. But whatever the case may be, the boy was bothered by it.

I’m not surprised as he takes anything like that, especially from his sister, personally. Too much so in my opinion. Regardless of the fact that I’ve told him those kind of comments from kids he doesn’t know shouldn’t bother him, it bothers him. Some kids will never be bothered by that sort of thing, the boy just isn’t one of them. He just needs to develop a thicker skin.

When it came time for bed, I was curious about what the boy thought about his play today, so I asked him. He was generally pleased with how he’d played, but then he switched gears and asked “How should I handle it when kids call me names? I know I shouldn’t get mad and hurt them…” He was clearly still bothered by the “idiot” comment.

I wanted to try and explain that name-calling is a form of gamesmanship. But then I realized there was no point because he wasn’t ready to understand the mental games involved in sports. So I opted for advice my Dad would have given me: ignore it, play harder and make the taunter eat his own words. I didn’t bother to tell him that, sometimes, the taunter still gets the win. It’s better that he think “good” always wins right now.

I think part of him hoped I would reveal some kind of special incantation that would turn his adversary into a toad, or something. The advice isn’t the sexiest, but if he follows it and practices it, he’ll ultimately develop the ability to block those kind of distractions out. When that happens, he’ll have a big leg up on his competition.