“Hey Dad, is it ok if I don’t play baseball next year?” my son Brad asked at the end of his freshman year in High School.
I was shocked. Not because he was indicating that he didn’t want to play baseball. I was very ok with that, but shocked because he felt like it might not be OK with me and he felt like he should ask for my permission.
“Of course it’s ok”, I said, “What makes you think you would even have to ask?”
“Well, name another Klontz who hasn’t played baseball”. He had me there. There weren’t any Klontz’s I could think of that weren’t passionate about baseball. My brother. His cousins. His Dad. All of these Klontz’s played organized baseball, many collegiately. Not only that but both his Uncle and I were part of very successful High School baseball programs as head coaches.
I had always been proud of myself for not having my kid’s future all planned out. I prided myself in believing the message that I was giving them was that they could do whatever they wanted to do and I would be there to support them. I imagined, and would have told you until this day, that they would feel free to follow their own desires and interests. I prided myself in not being one of those parents who would try to use my kids to attempt to play out some unfinished business from my childhood, as I had seen so many other parents do.
Then, I started taking a look at what I might have done to feed him the belief that he was expected to continue the family legacy of every Klontz male, that of becoming a baseball player.
Could it have started when as a newborn, I put a baseball and glove in his crib? Nah, that was just for fun. Could it have been that as a young child there were baseballs, bats, plastic and rubber balls resembling baseballs that dominated his toy box? Nah. Could it have been that I watched every baseball game on TV that I could often with him sitting on my lap? Nah. Could it have been that when he was four or five I had a miniature baseball uniform designed for him, an exact replica of the varsity baseball team’s uniforms? Nah. Could it had been that every chance I had, I used him as our bat boy? Nah. Could it have been that when we did spend time together he and I (and his sister) would often go to the baseball field and water the grass, pull weeds, rake the dirt, pick up papers, clean the dugouts, paint the fence, hang signs, ride the tractor as we groomed the baseball diamond? Nah. Could it be that every chance I could I would take him and his sister to Tiger Stadium to watch the Tiger’s play, managing to bribe the ushers so we always sat right next to the field? Nah. Could it be that they could sense that if they wanted to be with their dad, baseball was part of the trappings? Nah.
Actually, the more I thought about it, the more I realized that I had, unknowingly and unintentionally groomed him (and his sister). The effect was as if I had said to my son “You will be a baseball player, you will like it, you will be good at it, whether you want to or not will not matter”.
I must have done a little bit right though, because he did ask, eventually. I have no idea how long he had been wanting to ask, or how many years he played baseball without really wanting to.
He said, “I think I would rather play tennis”. Tennis!!!! It was a game that he had been exposed to by his step-mom. She was very good at it. She was the varsity tennis coach. I was terrible at it. It was a game that I literally didn’t know anything about. Tennis indeed.
Tennis it was. He became a good enough High School tennis player to get a college scholarship. He later became a national amateur champion. It was actually quite fun to watch him play a game I knew nothing about other than I wasn’t allowed to or supposed to talk. I was to just sit there and keep my mouth shut. It was a sport that he has been able to carry with him for more than a couple of decades. When I see that, I am grateful that he asked and that I said “Of course it’s OK”.
One of my best baseball players said to me, the day after he graduated from medical school, “It was clear to me that my parents wanted me to be a Dr. They began saving money for my medical school education the day I was born. They let me know that. They also told me I didn’t have to go to medical school, but, deep down, I knew better. So here I am a doctor, and I will always be a doctor, but I am realizing it was something I never really chose for myself.” “You know what else?” “I would have preferred to play tennis instead of baseball, but I knew it would break my dad’s heart”.
I have never forgotten about the law of unintended effects. I have tried to remain conscious of and sensitive to the effect of what I say, what I like, what I don’t like, my opinions, and how I live my life. I never know what someone might walk away believing about myself, themselves, or their world. I am still surprised when I am told about something I have said and done that has had a powerful impact on others’ lives. I have to keep in mind that whether I say it or just live it, I am giving them a message. Is it the one I intend, or is it something different?
It is amazing how we learn so many “unintended” lessons from our parents. Please tweet this so we can re-tweet and FB link.
It never ceases to amaze me the effect my actions have on others and how often I am unaware of this. Still, as you say, I must be doing something right, if people feel safe enough to tell me, or ask me, about things that I say, or do. Thanks for sharing that story Ted, all my best, Peter
You must have sent a message of love and acceptance as well. He talked to you about it. He changed paths. Even though your messages “to play” were obvious and strong”, your willingness to listen, must have been even more prominent in his mind. You sound like a very loving man. God bless you both.