« February 2006 | Main | April 2006 »

March 11, 2006

Adults just don’t understand kids these days

It’s a shame, but we adults just don’t understand what is going through the minds of young people.

For instance, Nick was a 15-year-old Korean-American and proud of both.

He and his older brother Alex had been adopted by a reputable Irish family in our small town and both boys quickly became known for their impeccable character.

I was coaching a high school JV soccer team, and in order for Nick to get to practice on time for the five-mile run, he would get out of school, sprint his three-mile paper route and arrive at practice smiling.

About half-way though our season, we came up against Sutton, a perennial soccer power in our area, a team we usually lost to by at least a bunch, maybe even a passel, of goals.

I called the team together on the sidelines prior to the game and started to read off the starters.

“Start me!” Nick said emphatically. It was uncharacteristic and it stunned me.

“I have to start.” He stared directly at me through glazed eyes and stood up from the bench running in place.

“OK,” I said.

He was a great student, and a great kid. I would give him this much, but I would watch him.

Two minutes into the game Nick slid Sutton’s big half-back from behind. He got the ball but he got the kid’s leg too, and was awarded a yellow card, his first ever.

He didn’t wait for me or the ref, he just sprinted off the field and sat at the mid-field line hugging his knees and waiting to go back in at the first break.

I subbed him in a few minutes later and he sprinted to his position.

The other 19 field players slowed down, dreamlike, as Nick became the action.

He seemed to have the endurance of an ant colony and the lung capacity of a dirigible. He never slowed.

The athletic director sidled up to me near the bench and asked, “What’s wrong with Nick?”

“I don’t know,” I said, but I was worried and watching him closely.

“Do you think it’s drugs? I’ve never seen him like this.”

I didn’t think so, but had to admit he was acting as if it might be possible.

He slid, tackled, popped to his feet, sprinted the field with the ball, passed to no one, and no matter how many times he was stopped, he attacked the ball again and again.

I subbed for him, and he shouted at the player coming in, “No!” and sent him back to me.

I thought “maybe he hates someone on the other team,” but his friends said he didn’t even know anyone on the other team.

I scanned the sidelines for a girl he might be showing off for, but that wasn’t it.

“I called the captain to my side, “Did Nick have a fight in school today?”

“No.”

On the field, Nick seemed to beam himself from one point to the next, playing no particular position, just the ball.

Then it happened.

He broke away on the right side, blew past a half-back, passed to himself through the defense, beat them to the ball, and buried a shot in the goal.

But instead of celebrating, he sprinted to the goal grabbed the ball, ran it to mid-field and set it up for Sut-ton’s kickoff.

“Could he just be trying to get more playing time,” I thought.

Then it dawned on me. It must be jealousy. Alex was a varsity player, Nick must be jealous of his older brother, just a little sibling rivalry.

At the end of the game Nick sat down on the field.

We had lost 2-1. Nick’s had been the only goal. He had played an incredible game. He was bleeding from both knees, was covered with dirt and scrapes. His shirt was torn, his left cheek was bruised, and he was crying.

“You OK, Nick?” I asked sitting down beside him on the field.

“No.” he sobbed. “We just found out today that Alex has a bone disease. He could die. I thought if I could just win this game….”

It’s a shame, but whenever we adults try to figure out what is inside a young person’s head we attribute to them drugs, hatred, pride, greed, anger, lust, poor sportsmanship and jealousy.

Everything Nick had done on that field, which we adults had attributed to nearly all the cardinal sins, had been done out of an incredible love for his brother — out of a love that made him believe if he won the game his brother would live.

We lost.

Alex lived. Probably because of the love, not the score.

Now, whenever I find myself stereotyping young people I think about Nick and Alex and just how wrong we adults can be about kids.

John Hourihan is wire editor of the Connecticut Post. You can reach him at 203-330-6207 or by
e-mail at jhourihan@ctpost.com

Posted by todd on 06:28 PM | Comments (1)