'The dad was yelling at his kid to murder my son'

"About a month ago, my youngest played rugby against a team who swore, punched, spat, cheated, and actually twisted nipples in the scrum. Did I mention these kids are NINE?"

Have kids, they said. It’ll be fun, they said. Especially Saturday mornings. Because who needs a sleep in, ever, right?

Is anyone else totally over sport, or is it just me? Yep, I know the Olympics are on right now and the whole world is tuning in with bated breath, but I’m not talking about watching supreme athletes compete at the highest level. I’m talking about the struggle of Saturday morning kids’ sport. So kind of like the opposite of the Olympics.

I swear that when I decided to have kids, getting up at 6am on a cold, wet, Saturday morning, and driving half way across Sydney in traffic to fight for a park, only to stand on the sidelines in the rain in gumboots, clutching an umbrella while my kids roll around in a muddy field, definitely wasn’t what I signed up for.

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I have four boys, all who have compulsory sports in different locations on the same day … and my husband and I are only two people. So you can imagine the mad scramble every Friday night at our place, while we figure out the logistical nightmare of how we can each be in at least two places at once the next day.

And you know what I’ve figured out recently? Who your kid is playing can make an already unpleasant experience unbearable. These past few weeks I’ve come to realise how important our influence on our kids actually is. Because the little people we’re raising, the behaviour they’re learning, it starts at home.

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Ingrid's weekend's have quickly become a juggling act to figure out how to get her four boys to their different sports. Picture: Supplied

"I can't even bear to think how they behave at home"

About a month ago, my youngest played rugby against a team who swore, punched, spat, cheated, and actually twisted nipples in the scrum. Did I mention these kids are NINE?

How were they like this? They displayed disgusting sportsmanship on the field. Meanwhile, on the sidelines, I was gritting my teeth and clenching my fists as the fathers of these little nipple-twisting darlings screamed offensive obscenities, and yelled advice to their sons that involved murder, pain, and homophobic slurs against my son’s team.

And, right there, was my answer. How can these kids possibly learn to be good sports and play fair, when they’re learning by example from these so-called men?

Don’t get me wrong, the majority of dads on the sidelines are beautiful: encouraging, kind, gentle, and enthusiastic, with sportsmanship to die for. But unfortunately, the few bad apples, who are incredibly vocal and incredibly vulgar, rot the whole barrel.

These are ‘men’, who I can only assume had less than stellar sporting careers themselves, and now choose to live vicariously through their children. Because none of them looked very sporty, I can tell you that, and the Wallabies definitely won’t be recruiting them as consulting coaches. And if this is the way they behave in public, I can’t ever bear to think how they behave at home. How do they speak to their wives? How do they treat their children?

Because it’s not okay to scream at your kid to kill another child, or to punch them in their private parts, or to call the children in the other team offensive names. Ever.

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Ingrid's four boys have always enjoyed getting active. Picture: Supplied

"We have to be careful what our kids learn by observing us"

And this isn’t a new thing. My mum got asked to leave a rugby game back in the 90s when she was watching my brother play. There was an aggressive father beside her yelling at his son to murder his opponents and rip them apart, and Mum just saw red. She turned on him, told him that these were just children, and that he should be ashamed of himself. It was not well received, and back then, the coaches took his side.

I can only assume these fathers on the sidelines with me today, are the children who were playing against my brothers thirty years ago. And hence the generational trauma continues. These ‘men’ are teaching their sons that this sort of behaviour is fine, over and over again.

We have to be so careful what our kids learn by observing us. Because at this stage of their lives, we are their biggest influences. By watching how we interact with our partner, they clock what marriage looks like. By watching how we interact with our mates, they clock what friendships look like. By watching how we speak to waiters and sales staff, they clock how they should treat people in the service industry.

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Just like by watching how we interact on a sporting field, they clock how they should treat their opponents. This season alone, I’ve seen kids aggressively shoving their opponents’ faces into the grass while their parents cheered them on. I’ve seen them swearing aggressively in the scrum, while their parents swore on the sidelines. And I’ve seen them aggressively rucking other children while their parents nodded proudly.

These are kids, and this is meant to be a game. This definitely wouldn’t happen at the Olympics…

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Ingrid with her son Xavier. Picture: Supplied

"The buck starts - and stops - with us"

And then last week, my son and his team lost. They were disappointed, because they’re a strong team and they’ve been doing well this season. After the team talk with his coach, we collected his stuff, and went to leave. 

As we passed a little boy from the opposing team, the boy walked over to my son, looked him in the eye, and stuck his hand out. “Good game, you played well,” the little boy said with an earnest smile as he shook my kid’s hand.

And all I could think was, what a lovely little boy he was, a little boy who’s been raised to be kind, empathetic, and a good sport. My child smiled, and that’s my lasting memory of that game.

So there is hope… As long as we foster a sense of decency in our children, and we teach them to be kind, empathetic, and good sports. Because the buck starts – and stops – with us.

Ingrid J Adams is an author and mother-of-four from Sydney.

Originally published as 'The dad was yelling at his kid to murder my son'