Published: February 16, 2009 03:37 pm      

THEREFORE I AM: Participatory trophies a double-edged sword

Before I was a parent there were things I promised myself I would never do. I would never demand that my kids go to the same college I went to. Check. I would never tell them that the music they're growing up on is worse than the music I grew up on. Check (even though it is — well, some of it). I would never hand out participatory trophies at the end of sports seasons. Hmmm. Well, you see, umm.

Even as a kid I wasn't really a fan of participatory trophies — as an adult I'm even less so. Handing out trophies to everyone at the end of a sports season, regardless of how well a team or individual players performed, just rubs me the wrong way. It's too touchy-feely, everyone-feel-warm-and-fuzzy, I'm-OK-you're-OK, hippy-dippy. Yuck.

That being said, I'm reminded of an old saying that seems to apply here. "You can't put the toothpaste back in the tube."

[Insert sigh of defeat here.]

Long before I volunteered to coach my kids' various sports teams, someone decided that it would be "nice" to hand out trophies to every single player who participated in the season. I don't know who the coach was, what sport his team played, or if he had an illicit kickback deal with the local trophy shop, but once he squeezed the Crest out of that tube, it was never going back in. Participatory trophies are here to stay, like it or not.

Through a little Internet research I was able to confirm what I suspected. Participatory trophies began in the 1970s — the same years I was playing soccer as a kid. The reason I suspected the '70s was because participatory trophies were just here and there. Some seasons I got a participatory trophy, and some seasons I didn't. The concept was just starting to take hold.

I won't lie. I enjoyed getting the trophies when I was young, but I suspect it may have had more to do with the fact that I was excited about getting a trophy because everyone else on my team was excited about getting one. So that makes me wonder if those other little boys in 1978 were truly excited or if they were, like me, simply happy to be included in the group. Was anyone more than just superficially thrilled?

This much I do know: I have no idea where all of those participatory trophies are today. I even had a handful of "earned" trophies, and I don't know where they are either. They're probably in a landfill somewhere or in my parent's attic in a box mislabeled "kitchen utensils." Either way, they haven't seen the light of day in decades, and probably won't for decades more. It's entirely possible they were sacrificed by yours truly and his pals in the name of backyard fireworks research and development.

Fast-forward 30 years or so. Now I have my own kids, and I'm more than happy to wear the coach's hat for their various teams. It's a lot of fun, but at the end of every season I feel a little funny about handing out the participatory trophies. The parent and soon-to-be-teacher in me can't help but wonder what message we're sending to these young kids. Are we setting them up for a long string of disappointments in adult life where even if you do your very best, you often don't get a reward? Third-party affirmation can be a crutch. Trophies and pats on the head don't come very often when you're an adult. I think the conscientious adult realizes that the internal satisfaction that comes from doing one's personal best is its own reward. If someone else wants to give you an "attaboy" or a trophy or a pay raise, that's great, but don't count on it.

I suppose I could be an ogre, put my foot down and refuse to hand out participatory trophies, but what would that really do? Nothing good. They're just kids. Participatory trophies are here to stay. They're part of American culture. If I don't give them out, someone else will.

My kids' rooms are full of trophies they've received not for winning anything, but merely for being part of a team. They arrange them on their shelves just so, but I'm not sure they're proud of them per se. They're just, well, there. Anna and Phil seem to view them as mementos of seasons gone by rather than spoils of victory. Is there anything wrong with that? Probably not. Would Vince Lombardi have handed out participatory trophies? Probably not. Of course, he wasn't coaching 5-year-olds who pick daisies in the outfield.

David Spates is a Knoxville resident and Crossville Chronicle contributor whose column is published each Tuesday. He can be reached at davespates@tds.net.