The Rose lying in a bed of weeds

When I was living in Baton Rouge, I did a lot of odd-ball general assignment jobs for various newspapers and media outlets throughout the city.

That’s pretty commonplace for young reporters starving to generate clips and make connections. It’s also a way to make a little spare cash – something that always comes in handy during the weekend party scene at LSU.

But one assignment of the hundreds I did stands out over the rest. I remember it like it was yesterday. It was a Saturday afternoon in the year 2007. The sun was bright in the sky, and there wasn’t a cloud anywhere in sight. The temperature was gorgeous – probably somewhere about 65-70. It was one of those Saturdays where the last place you want to be is work.

But because I was the low man on the totem pole, I was the one picked to do this assignment. My task was to cover a youth basketball tournament at a gymnasium within the city. My boss told me to get a few pictures, talk to a few coaches – the basics.

So I got there, walked into the gym, sat my butt on the wooden bleachers and watched. What I witnessed for the next four hours was horror.

There were coaches hollering and screaming at players – sometimes rants filled with expletives.

There were parents yelling back at the coaches – their words filled with four-letter, one syllable quips beginning with the letter F.

When the parents got over their anger toward the coaches, they slapped on an imaginary striped shirt and became officials. They hollered and shouted insults to the referees, touting that their late grandparents could do a better job than the two-man crew assigned to the game.

When told to stop, they obliged, however briefly. After about 5-10 minutes of obedience and sane behavior, the mountains of roars continued.

The poor players were somewhere in the middle. On one hand, they were happy because they were playing the sport that they loved. But on the other, they were miserable, nervous wrecks. The people they loved and trusted the most – their parents and coaches – were making complete fools of themselves. They had nowhere to turn for support, and no one to look to for guidance. Some stayed strong amidst the chaos. But others broke. Every team on the court on that day had at least two or three boys who cried – relentlessly – during or after the games.

I did my story, got my quotes, painted a bright, sunny picture on the entire ordeal and got in my car and went home.

While driving back from the gym to my apartment, I made a phone call and told a close friend of mine that there was absolutely, positively no chance that I, or my future child, would ever be involved in organized youth sports.

Flash forward almost eight years to the present, and I’m here to say that I was wrong.

Youth sports are not bad mechanisms to blossom our children. They are actually very useful tools that should be in place in every community throughout the United States. The problem is the BAD PEOPLE that populate the organizations. They are the folks that ought to be sent to pasture, for they are the ones that give the entire process a bad rap.

Here’s my own story. I graduated school in 2009, and moved back home to begin my work for this paper. About a year or so later, my brother asked me to help him coach my nephew Lennon’s Iddy Biddy team. Still remembering that vivid day in 2007, I was very nervous. But not wanting to turn down a chance to help my nephew develop, I said I’d think about it.

So while going over my options, I spoke to a few buddies of mine about the entire situation, most namely Damien St. Pierre, of Golden Meadow, to talk about the community’s local basketball program.

Damien was already heavily involved with Biddy, and he and a couple of his buddies had been recruiting me to be more active, as well. One of those other guys pushing me was a fella by the name of Blake Lee. He was the President of South Lafourche Biddy Basketball at this time. He told me that for someone who loves sports like I do, I’d be cheating myself to not work with the kids.

Through speaking with them, they convinced me to give it a shot. They told me that South Lafourche Biddy was a program that does things the right way – with a heavy focus on the kids.

They were right.

Through coaching my nephew, I’ve seen first-hand how amazing and powerful a community can be when it all rallies around a good cause.

South Lafourche Biddy Basketball has continually grown, now introducing the sport to 513 kids in the community.

Is it perfect? No. It never is at any place. We have our moments where some people’s passion gets out of line, and the kids-first vision is lost. But by and large, it’s a place where everyone feels at home, and things are always done right for the greater good.

Since my inception within the organization, I’ve wanted my role to grow, as well. Where I once coached just one team per season, this past year, I took three. In the past two seasons, I also have been blessed to coach All-Star teams, meaning that I was given the responsibility to take a squad around the area to compete against other organizations.

It is through that experience that I learned the lesson I present to everyone today. Youth sports are not the problem. They are just an easy target that short-sighted people like to blame.

It’s the people within them that are often the problem.

I know at my Biddy organization, things are done right. And the number growth proves it.

Through traveling around the area, I know that other programs around the area do amazing things, as well.

Our brothers at Thibodaux Biddy Basketball run a fantastic program that is clean and free of the drama. The same can be said in Houma with Terrebonne Parish Biddy. Lockport Biddy Basketball is the same – an organization in which parents can feel comfortable putting their children in positions to grow and prosper.

But some other organizations throughout Louisiana that we visit and frequent leave a lot to be desired. They are the same types of folks that I witnessed in 2007. They are the folks that need to be banned from being involved in games.

We’re lucky here. We are one of the few places in the country that does it right.

I’m so glad that I was wrong on that one day in 2007.

I’m so glad to know that there are still people lots of people around who do things to put the kids first.

And I’m even more glad and honored to call all of those people my dear friends and colleagues.

This is all an experience that I’ll never, ever forget – something I’ll continue doing as long as humanly possible.