As I was wrapping up our big spring break sports camp last week, I took a few minutes to share a "very special message". Cue "Facts of Life" soundtrack.  All week we played wiffle ball, kickball, soccer, and basketball. We kept score and promised a first place prize.  Here's the catch, we had all age ranges and skills levels; some of the younger ones couldn't shoot a basket, strike a soccer ball, swing the bat, or for that matter, run the bases in the right order.  It was the fist time I had a child hit a nice line drive and  run to the pitchers mound fully thinking he was "safe".  On a side note, the very same five year old taught me how to play WII tennis (he creamed me), but that's a whole other deal, that deserves it's own posting.

As you can imagine, a lot of the older seasoned athlete's kids got really frustrated watching the leads they'd generated evaporate.  But these very moments happen to be why I am happy to be a youth coach and yes, at the heart of every over the top 1980's after-school special you watched with your little brother.

So at the end of camp, after I gave out the "prizes" I asked the whole group, many with semi-disappointed looks, why they liked playing sports, and if they liked playing knowing that they might lose (there is almost a 50% chance every game).  As we walked off the field, something seemed to have clicked with that group of 75 sweaty, tired, happy young athletes. It felt like we were walking away from a big win, like how it felt to me as a kid walking away from a pick up game (regardless of the scoreboard). I always had older kids that were my hero's, and post-game I was usually just in awe of their game. I couldn't wait to play again.

So as I wax hoplessly romantic, I leave you as I left the kids, "play for love of the game and the rest will take care of it self".