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their director gives a shit, has an actual plan and, just maybe, knows what he’s doing. In other words, they want leadership. And you can’t attempt to lead by being all things to all people or a slave to PC society—which brings me to why I was eventually overthrown as the basketball coach in a parent-led coup d’état and why they’ve never won a championship since.
    Lots of kids wanted to play basketball in that sixth-grade class. Isuggested that rather than having one huge team on which some kids would inevitably not get much playing time, we field two teams, with two different coaches, so the greatest number of kids could play. I then went through almost Manhattan Project–like analytics to ensure both teams were equally matched. But after my first few practices, I began to sense trouble.
    A gaggle of moms had been eyeballing me throughout our first scrimmage game with the grade’s other team. It soon became clear that they were not fans of my methods.
    “Why didn’t my son play very much?” asked the ringleader with the same righteous fire as Norma Rae. I couldn’t very well tell her that her boy had no interest in learning the fundamentals of basketball or playing basketball, and certainly not winning at basketball.
    “We’re all just getting our footing out there. The more they learn, the more they’ll play. But your boy’s working hard,” I lied, and immediately hated myself.
    Then the next mom spoke up. “I don’t see why you are dividing these boys’ friendships by letting your team win. These teams are from the same class!”
    “You . . . You don’t want anyone to win?” I responded. I had heard about this new mind-set about sports in schools, but thought it was only a BS punch line for late-night talk show monologues.
    “Well, I certainly don’t think you should be keeping score !” she answered. The other moms nodded gravely.
    I explained that, in my view, the tradition of noting the amount of baskets achieved, adding them up and comparing the total to the other team’s is the only objective method to see who played better. The moms sniffed and looked at one another. I haven’t felt such tension and disapproval since I sang with Snow White at the Oscars.
    “Well,” Norma Rae said with finality, “I don’t think it’s fair to have winners and losers.”
    I thought about debating that point. In my estimation, there is no more virulent motivator in life than wanting to win.
    As the season progressed, so did our team. We practiced hard, but always with an element of fun. Still, I could see that there was a type of parent who didn’t want to have their kids do push-ups if they goofed off, or run laps if they were late, or get benched for a lack of motivation.
    I loved these boys and loved coaching them. Telling a shy, awkward kid that he “can do this” when he clearly thinks he can’t, and has probably never been told he can, would almost move me to tears. When that kid made his only basket of the entire season, in our league championship, I wanted to run out and hug him. Instead, I gave him the game ball.
    After winning the championship, I found out that there were no awards (or anything else) to memorialize the boys’ achievement, so I decided to buy each kid a small trophy myself. I had it inscribed with the school’s name, the year and the word “champions.” I soon heard from the school’s PE teacher that he’d been getting complaints from parents whose kids didn’t win the tournament and so would not be getting a trophy. Furthermore, I was told that the kids would not be allowed to attend the awards/pizza dinner I’d arranged unless I got trophies for the other school team as well.
    “Does anyone object to the winning team’s trophy showing that they were, in fact, the winning team?” I asked.
    “Honestly; yes. But if all the kids got the same style and size trophy, I think you could get away with it.”
    “Okay. Do you want me to pay for these additional