A good mate of mine is head of sport at a large all-boys school down country. Recently they enacted a policy where pupils had to meet certain engagement levels in class before they would become eligible for school sports teams, an eminently sensible approach.
Imagine his dismay when he got a call from an irate father saying his son, a promising prop, was only at school to play rugby and any roadblock put in his way was unconstitutional.
There insidious examples of poor parenting got me thinking back to a series I recently wrote, with the catch-all title Raising Champions. One conclusion quickly reached was that parents were the biggest enablers and biggest handbrakes on promising sporting careers. The best parents were the ones that offered their children support and encouragement, and instilled good values.
So here's a tip for parents: ENTITLEMENT IS NOT A VALUE.
It's a scourge. We all know you love and cherish your kids. Some of you might even harbour dreams that they will grow into the next Richie McCaw, or Maria Tutaia, or Ryan Nelsen (though statistically, very few will make a living from sport). But you've got to let them try, and fail, on their own. You can't keep running to their sporting rescue every time they miss selection in a team or are tired from staying up late to finish an English assignment.
Please, parents, get some perspective.
GIVE 'EM A TASTE OF KIWI...
On this most auspicious of Apia days, I cannot think of anything more apt than to post this Wynne Gray interview with a great of New Zealand and Samoan rugby. Here's the one and only Michael Niko Jones.
SPORTS STOCKMARKET
I'm buying... lycra
There's something hypnotic about the Tour de France that can turn otherwise sane middle-aged men into sweaty fools. As Le Tour winds through postcard villages, past historic monuments and up and down torturous climbs, we suddenly believe we could do that, if only we had the right gear.
So we buy bikes we can't afford, resistance trainers that will sit unused in the corner of a garage for 49 weeks every year, and a bunch of pants and cycle shirts that will make us look like badly inflated bouncy castles.
What we have is two ends of the aesthetics scale. On one end, we have the actual tour; on the other we have overweight fools in lycra.
I'm selling... State of Origin
I'm over it - over the hype and the Hollywood production, over the tired commentary homilies, over the manufactured controversies and internecine angst.
It's a strange feeling to be selling this stock, because I've always made an effort to tune in and probably will flick over tonight between overs in the Ashes. Stranger still that I'm pretty sure the reason why I no longer buy SoO stock is because it lacks the threat of random violence.
That goes against my grain, but it's true. I could never give two hoots whether Queensland or New South Wales won - I'm a New Zealander and frankly, hope they both lose - but the prospect of the game deteriorating into a stoush always kept me hooked. Now the game has been sanitised, it's just another game of league and, judging by the past few years, not a particularly exciting one.
Give me the Warriors and their unique gifts and foibles any day of the week.
I'M READING...
Simon Barnes rarely writes a bad story. This personalised retrospective on the last truly epic Ashes series is not one of them. I love this line: "The deeper truth of all sport lies in the way that we remember the events, what they mean to us, how they affected us, how they changed us. The deeper truth is beyond numbers: fabled by the daughters of memory."
http://www.thecricketmonthly.com/story/885119/ten-years-after
MY LAST $10
Every week I will make one $10 bet. The goal is to get to December 31 with more money than I would have had if I had put it in the bank.
This week: $10 on Queensland to beat NSW in SoO III head-to-head at $1.62. I know, I know. I said I'm over Origin, but it seems like an easy enough $6.20.
Last week: Collected $19 on the Highlanders with a 5.5 points start ($1.90). With Wellington teams known historically for wetting their pants in big matches, this was far too easy.
Spent: $40 Collected: $34
OVER TO YOU
A reader, former All Black G Thorne, writes about his memories of some of Auckland's long-lost playgrounds, which I visited here.
"I watched soccer at Blandford Park as an 11 year old. I think China played. Ken Hough was goalkeeper. I saw a title fight at Carlaw Park and... I remember Sandy Davies letting a goal in at Newmarket Park when it trickled between his legs."
This is your chance to relive some memories, highlight a terrific grassroots sports performance, promote an upcoming sports reunion, or just send me crazy ideas. It's also not a bad spot for giveaways, if you're that way inclined. Email me at dylan.cleaver@nzherald.co.nz.
