From one parent to another, lighten up, James Harrison.
I came home to find out that my boys received two modest tokens of sports memorabilia from a week spent being active, learning about teamwork and having fun. This small symbol seems to at least partially inspire them to continue pursuing their passion for sports and give them a lasting reminder of the enjoyment they felt. Participation trophies!
I am very proud of my boys for everything they do -- hmm, that kind of unconditional support feels like ... wait for it ... the participation trophy of parenting. I take it back. There are plenty of times when I'm not proud of my boys: when they don't try their best, when they don't listen to teachers or coaches, when they don't demonstrate empathy and when they overlook the spirit of joy that should infuse their playtime.
Not only will these trophies NOT be given back, I am going to help my kids display them as prominently as they want -- one goes on a dresser, one goes next to the homework desk, one takes a place of honor on the bedside table, so he can see it before he drifts off to sleep. There is nothing not "real" about a participation trophy to a kid -- if you think, like I do, that participation trophies add modestly to youth sports being fun. (And, by the way, the academic research shows that the impact of trophies is, indeed, very modest -- not nearly as big of a deal as Harrison thinks.) To this nominal extent that trophies even matter, I trust my kids intrinsically know the difference between a participation trophy and a relativist trophy earned for having more "wins" than other teams. Any parent who has watched "we-don't-keep-score" games in the early grades knows that the kids themselves keep score with an actuarial precision that would not be unfamiliar in an NFL team meeting and has little to do with trophies.
I'm not sorry that I'm not sorry for believing that a bauble like a small trophy or medal or certificate -- regardless of the number of scoreboard wins your kid (or your kid's largely arbitrarily populated team) earns -- is not only not harmful or leading to a kid's future of entitlement-driven failure (projecting much?), but might incrementally offer the kid a positive memory that leads to future sports participation. An active, healthy lifestyle. An enthusiasm for being part of a team. To equate "earning a trophy" with "winning the league championship" ignores dozens of other amazing benefits of youth-sports participation. Just imagine how Harrison himself felt when his Kent State football coach handed him his official team jersey as a team walk-on, the participation trophy of FBS-level college football. Harrison clearly did not throw it back in the coach's face saying "Scholarship or nothing!" (I can only assume the same thing about his NFL game check -- a not-insubstantial "participation trophy" for 50 percent of the league on any given Sunday after a losing effort.)
I am totally about to raise two boys to be men by making them believe that trying their best, regardless of the result, is a core value; in sports and elsewhere, it is often referred to as "process over outcome." Nominal symbols of enthusiasm and encouragement, like a participation trophy, are not going to erode the goal of trying their best. There is a far greater chance it inspires them to continue trying their best or, to Harrison's point, "drive you to want to do better." One place where Harrison and I and so many parents agree: Sometimes your best is not enough. As teacher and writer Jessica Lahey points out in her great new book, "The Gift of Failure," that's OK!
Crying and whining about participation trophies is the problem here. Here's something to "shut u up and keep you happy" -- focus on what keeps your kids' youth-sports experience fun.
Dan Shanoff writes for espnW about the intersection of sports and parenting. Keep the conversation going on Facebook (facebook.com/danshanoff), Twitter (@danshanoff) or Instagram (@danshanoff).