A Moment in Soccer - Selection #8

Smile

U14 girls practice went particularly well one evening. The kids were focused and improving their ability to play under pressure and their ability to make a fake.

About five minutes into the practice, I told a few of the girls who were struggling to “Smile.” They half-smiled and continued to work and improve. At the time, I didn’t think much of the exchange, but I was about to.

The next morning, I received the following email:
“Please don't tell ____ or any of the girls to smile. We prefer that she focus on improving her soccer skills at practice and not worry about her physical appearance in that environment. If you are concerned that she is unhappy about something, maybe you could ask in a general way to the whole group how practice went or some other sort of check in.

I'm wondering if you ever ask any of the boy’s teams to smile?

Maybe you haven't heard, but this men-telling-women-to-smile phenomena is a well-documented gender thing. (see links below)

I think we need to be aware that when men in authority over girls give them commands to alter their outward appearance, however well-intentioned they may be, it creates a counterproductive atmosphere at best, and a hostile one at worst.

We also don't see what smiling has to do with soccer. It's clearly unrelated. We'd like to her to focus on the ball, building skills and relationships with teammates. If she smiles at practice or in a game, we want it to be from the heart, not to fake it to make anyone else feel better about themselves or what's happening.”

I wonder what you, the reader, are thinking now? Does the email make you mad, thoughtful or confused? Are you taking sides? What do you think I was thinking?

I’ll tell you what I was thinking, I was angry. I’m not sexist, she wasn’t there, why isn’t smiling part of soccer and don’t assume I don’t say “smile” to boys’ players.

Then I took a breath. Don’t react with a poorly constructed email or emotional phone call, I reminded myself.

Then I got contemplative. Long ago, I learned some brain science that I convey to every team I coach: “When we or you are critiqued our natural biological reaction is to come up with two to three reasons why the critique is incorrect.” My brain and entire being was in full defense mode - I’m fine and you weren’t there lady.

After I calmed, reread, and pondered the email, I was no longer mad. I was disappointed; disappointed I was perceived as a sexist coach perpetuating female gender roles. Am I a sexist coach? Is there some validity to her email? She cited her sources, and the information made sense. I can’t deny women and girls are objectified. I can’t deny woman and girls are expected to be feminine and are considered bitchy or emotional when they compete. Can I deny my part in propagating these stereotypes and social constructs?

I’m not comfortable in a politically correct world. I like making ethnic jokes. I enjoy sarcasm and irony. I love Don Rickles, rest his soul. I want to laugh at myself and others with equal parts humility, truth, and compassion.

I’m not comfortable in a non-politically correct world either. Political correctness is a response to racism, sexism, homophobia, and ethnocentrism. When grandpa made a racist joke, he thought it was funny because he believed it was true, not because he was being ironic.

When my anger, disappointment, and embarrassment subsided, I exchanged emails with the parent. I won’t address the particulars of our conversation except to say we got into each other’s shoes and took a little walk. Though I wasn’t excited at the time, I’m happy I received the email. She never questioned my commitment, her child’s playing time, what position she played or team tactics, but her feelings boiled down to the notion that “I want my daughter to be a competitor, to be determined and damn any teacher or coach who marginalizes her effort.” What’s not to respect about that?

As for me, I’ve always said “smile.” I say it to girls (not so much anymore) and I say it to boys. “Smile,” because the pain of trying to get better at something is always fun.