I grew up in the small town of Mayo, where I was listed at 5’2” and 97 pounds during my senior season in baseball. When I would put on that jersey to represent Lafayette High School (LHS), I had a sense of pride knowing I was representing, not only myself and my team, but my school and my community.
For the opposing teams that came to Mayo or hosted us at their place, I understood I may be the only representation they would see of LHS. While I wanted to win at all costs, winning did not outweigh the risk of embarrassing my school, family or community. As a high school athlete, it was relayed to us that it was a privilege to represent our school and wear the jersey that had LHS written across the chest.
When I was in the sixth grade, I was playing little league baseball, and was the ball boy for the Lafayette Hornets’ varsity baseball team. That was the greatest learning experience I ever encountered in my baseball career. I got a grade A education from some high school greats and a ton of good high school baseball players. I remember watching my cousins, Ryan, Chan Perry and Maury Byrd, take batting practice and work through defensive drills. I got to watch Derek Garland, Steve Land, Brett Hewitt, Travis Hicks, David Olgeslby, Matt Pearson and Tyler Folsom, none of whom realized their every move was being watched and studied. I remember watching Steve Land and thinking I wanted to be him on the ball field one day. He was only a high school player and just six years older than me, but he played on the LHS varsity baseball field and, to me, he and the rest of that team were larger than life. I always immolated him on the baseball field; I would pump my fist into my glove the way he did, I would wear my uniform the way he did. I remember sitting in the dugout before home games and looking throughout the crowd, thinking, “Wouldn't be cool to one day play in front of fans like this on this big stage?”
Today, not a single player probably recalls me being their ball boy that season, but the impact they all left on me would shape my baseball career. By watching them, I understood what it meant to be a varsity baseball player at LHS. No, we weren't celebrities, and we weren’t signing autographs, but I understood younger eyes were somewhere, watching us, just waiting on their chance to play on the varsity field and wear the Hornets jersey.
I remember the fans that would come to every game, no matter if their child was playing or had already gone past high school. I remember being grateful that they would take the time out of their schedules just to come watch us play. It wasn't until years later I understood they weren't there watching a particular player, they were there watching Hornets baseball, something larger than one singular player.
I mention all this to say these are the memories I built and remember throughout my childhood growing up in Mayo and at Lafayette High School. Today, however, all of those types of memories are lost at the high school level. Kids’ memories are being filled with parents screaming at referees and coaches, players fighting with other players. All for what? The opportunity to say you won the game. I look around today and see parents screaming at opposing players, players fighting with other players. Fans argue with other fans, getting ejected from gymnasiums, and fighting with law enforcement when asked to leave. For what? Because your child’s team or your child in particular is getting beat? These actions are being justified every day as “kids will be kids,” or because an adult’s foolish pride got the better of them instead of setting an example for the children who are watching them.
Recently, I heard about a game that involved a bench clearing brawl between players and parents on a varsity soccer field between two middle school teams. The result of such actions? The players were suspended, while the parents received no disciplinary action from the schools or the Florida High School Athletic Association (FHSAA). I also heard about another altercation of fans fighting amongst each other in the stands, resulting in players getting involved because they felt they had to defend their mothers who were amongst those fighting. The result of that fight? Parents, again, received no disciplinary action, while the players were suspended.
However, the embarrassment of the fans’, parents’ and even players’ actions does not stop there. Fans at another game became so unruly law enforcement was called into action, leading to a fan being forcibly removed from the gymnasium after refusing to leave his seat. All of this chaos has taken place at high school sporting events. I could not tell you a single score from those games, because parents, fans and players decided for themselves that they were bigger than the game itself. Your actions are being watched, too; what kind of examples are they setting for the next generation?
High school sports and their integrity is growing frailer every day, not by the sport or the players themselves, but rather by the parents and the fans who continue to act obnoxious and unruly, then question why their children and players are always being singled out as the problem. Perhaps the issue isn't with the child's “high strung personality” or their “extreme competitive nature.” Perhaps it’s their parents’ actions that teach them it is okay to act disrespectful and unlawful, then quickly turn around and say, “it wasn't my fault” and point fingers at others to deflect their own foolish pride.
Playing high school sports is not a right, it is a privilege, as is being a fan and helping to create a positive atmosphere for the kids to play in. Let's hope 2023 will bring sportsmanship to our area schools, and the kids can get back to playing a game that, in itself, could help shape their future moving forward. Let the struggles of practice, games and the feeling of a tough loss and greater wins fill their memories rather than the chaos many players have witnessed and have been part of recently.