An apple a day . . .

The reason I fell in love with covering high school sports was because of the kids. Early in my career I dealt with college athletes and, for the most part, found them to be spoiled, egotistical and self-serving.
High school athletes, on the other hand, seemed to appreciate any attention they got. Especially female athletes, who are normally on the short end of the stick when it comes to recognition, were always grateful to see their name in print in a positive way.
Perhaps it was my ego that led me to reporting on girls’ sports. Call me selfish but I like it when someone is excited when I’m interviewing them. I like it when a kid says thank you after their story is told in the newspaper.
Girls, for the most part, were happy when I wrote about them. That, of course, made me happy, made me feel like someone cared and appreciated what I was doing. It made me feel good about myself, too.
A few years ago, I had a lot more fun covering high school sports. Slowly but surely, however, the college attitudes I despised have crept into the prep arena.
Nowadays, by the time an athlete is in the 11th grade, they’ve seen their name and face in the newspaper so many times, it’s no longer a big deal. A sports writer wanting to talk to them is no longer a thrill, it’s a nuisance.
We’ve seen it in Union County. Players in Norphlet basically ran their coach out of the job. In Junction City, not only can a coach no longer kick a player off the team, if they try, the coach’s safety becomes in jeopardy.
In high school, the children have all the power and it shows in their attitude.
When I talk to coaches around the county I’m constantly amazed at what they have to put up with. I often wonder why they deal with the stuff they deal with.
Despite the bad apples, there are still a few kids whose parents raised them the old-school way. There are still a few yes sirs and no mam’s out there.
It’s to the point now, when you hear a young person say “yes sir” I automatically look to see whose mouth those words came from. Children with manners are the exception, not the rule these days.
But, those few old-school kids are the ones who make me keep doing what I’m doing. I like kids. I like believing that, in some very small way, I can make a tiny difference in someone’s life.
I like the notion that, if I write a hundred stories about a hundred different kids, perhaps something positive I write will spark a little self-confidence that helps one of them. Perhaps one of those hundred kids will be so inspired that someone noticed their hard work, they will strive to work even harder. Maybe, one of those hundred stories will get noticed by a college coach, who will give that youngster an opportunity.
Maybe it’s just my ego that makes me think a small-town local sports writer can make an impact in a life. But, if I didn’t think it was possible, I couldn’t do it.
That’s probably what keeps coaches, coaching.
Just when you think every apple on the tree is rotten and you start to think about doing something else, you suddenly spot one good apple. And, that one good apple makes you forget about all the bad ones.