Strollerderby

My boy loves him some golf. He wakes up most mornings and asks if he can play golf before breakfast. He knows all the big names and talks about Tiger, Vijay, Ernie and Annika. He abruptly changes the subject at dinner by emphatically interjecting, "Golf is very important...," rambling on about the difference between miniature golf and real golf and practice shots and teeing off. He played his first nine holes last month and he owns no less than three sets of clubs, one with real irons. He's two-and-a-half.

When people see us hitting the ball from the sand on to the fairway (also known as the wood chips to the field at the park) or see him at the indoor driving range with my husband or my dad, they either laugh and nod knowingly or they look at suspiciously. And for shared joy or judgment, they almost always say the same thing, "Maybe he's the next Tiger!"

And I both cringe and swell to hear this. What parent doesn't want their kid soar at something that they love? What parent doesn't envision their child living their dream? If those dreams are built on toddler obsessions, then yes, maybe my little boy will grow up to be the next Tiger.

But dreams aren't built on toddler obsessions. Next month, he could be more interested in tools or dolls or playing school. Next year, he could put the clubs away for good. Really, this doesn't matter to me.  As much as talking golf for hours (and hours and hours) on end exhausts me, I love it that he loves it so much. It isn't about learning the proper way to grip the club or how far he pummels the ball or knowing the difference between a birdie and an eagle (what is the difference anyway?). It is about the joy the of playing.

After all, he's just a kid. His path -- toward the green or in a lab or in an art studio or in front of a chalkboard or at a piano or on roads around the globe -- is not yet determined. He still has a lot of discovering to do before he even finds the gate that leads to the grassy area that overlooks the path.

So how does all of this joy and discovery turn so quickly in a kid's life to the great pursuit of the W and two-a-day practices and playing sports year round? How does a kid's passion for hitting or catching or kicking a ball lead to traveling teams at the expense of a kid's health and his parents' sanity and her interest in anything else at all?

How does a college scholarship or a professional contract become the goal for a ten-year-old? And how does a spark that sport sets off lead so fast and so furious to chronic and long-term injuries in children, babies?

Regan McMahon, author of Revolution in the Bleachers: How Parents Can Take Back Family Life in a World Gone Crazy Over Youth Sports, recently excerpted and podcasted by the San Francisco Chronicle, digs into the overwhelming reality of over-the-top youth sports culture, how it plants itself early and grows up into unhealthy bodily injuries and unnecessary pressure on kids to win games, scholarships and the coveted contract.

McMahon's chilling investigation spans hospital statistics and interviews with pediatric orthopedic surgeons, professional team medical directors, parents, kids, personal trainers and other people who have witnessed the intensity of youth sports rise over the last twenty years. It is the very message that our kids' health is at stake in the sports game that makes this article one of those rare links worth forwarding to your email list of mommy and daddy friends.

It comes down to this: There are many, many kids who are specializing in one sport, playing year round with inadequate breaks between practices and seasons, and being pushed (or learning to push themselves) toward prodigy status.

And that situation inevitably leads to this: Compromised growth plates in developing bodies, increased tendon and bone wear from repetitive motion and a long list of pains that range from shin splints up to Little Leaguer's shoulder, all injuries caused by over-use and under-rest.

Not only are the injuries chronic for many young athletes, the problem of injured young athletes is chronic.  The U.S. Consumer Product Safety Commission reports that in 2003, 3.5 million kids received medical treatment for sports injuries. All of those kids were under the age of 15. This number rose four times in eight years. It is estimated that 30% of those kids -- just over a million soccer-playing, pitching, cheerleading, running, skating, balance beaming children -- had injuries caused by over-use.

And while many children's sports schedules out-do the rigors of a professional team, McMahon points out that one of the sad ironies of all this is that the ultimate reward may not ever be attainable to over-played kids anc clarifies, "So let's get this straight: Parents are putting their kids at risk having them play year-round so they can one day play professionally, and the pros are starting to be wary of players who may have worn out their arms trying to get to the majors."

The cost is tremendous, not just in co-pays and hospital bills, but on the still-developing temples of the children we sighed over when they insisted on sleeping with a tennis racket as a toddler.  It costs families weekends spent relaxing and rejuvenating rather than schlepping a child from game to game to game, and it costs parents time together or alone while they are booking hotel rooms for away matches. It costs families bonding by prioritizing practices over rituals like dinner at 6. It costs children the opportunity to flit from piano to painting to hip-hop class to develop more than just one part of their bodies, brains and interests. It has devalued the life lessons we learn when we lose and importance of exploring the world, not just the inside of a kiddie-sized arena.

And all of this madness has cost kids the chance to just play, to embrace the spirit of childhood, to be healthy and happy and have fun.

So read this bit and if you are as enraged and inspired as I am, read the whole book. Pass it on to your playgroup, your preschool, your kid's track coach.  As McMahon says, "The time has come to get our priorities straight. No trophy, no scholarship is worth endangering our child's health."

I think my priorities were pretty straight before I read this article, but now, they are far more aligned. After nap time today, my boy and I will surely be headed to the park, golf clubs in tow. And when we get there, we will be swinging for...well, the swings. And no matter how far or how crazy the ball goes, I hope we will not worry about the looks from passers-by or when we will get on a real green or where this whole golf thing will one day go. I hope we can just enjoy this funny and tiring toddler obsession while it lasts.