I have created this letter based upon very real feelings experienced by some athletes who have had a dysfunctional relationship with their parents regarding their participation in high school sports. The subject game here is basketball and the athlete is female, but the sport could be any and the athlete could also be male.

Dear Dad,

I wrote you this letter because I don’t think I can talk to you about what’s happening with me playing on the school basketball team.

I know you want what’s best for me and you would do anything to make me happy, but what’s going on at the games and in the car when you drive me home has made me very upset. I really don’t know who else I can talk to about this. Mom says that’s just how you are when I hear you yelling at the referee. At first, I thought you were right and that he’s always making calls that help the other team that we’re playing. The other night, when you wouldn’t stop yelling at the ref, I wanted to run out on the court and scream at him, too.

Then at halftime, one of my teammates asked me, “Why is your father acting like such a jerk?” I pushed her and the coach had to come between us. I was angry then, but my feelings have changed since then.

On the way home that night, you also told me my coach is no good. You said he doesn’t play me enough. You told me I’m better than most of the girls on the team. Dad, the truth is I’m not. I’m trying to get better at practice and all the coaches are helping me, but I can see that I’m not as good as the girls they play most of the time. When you met with my coach last week and he told you I was working to improve my game, you came home and called him an idiot and said he doesn’t know how to coach. Well, Dad, our team is pretty good. I’m OK about that, whether I play more or not.

Mom took your side and both of you told me I should quit the team if I don’t get more chances to play. Dad, don’t you remember telling me that nobody likes a quitter and that once I made a commitment to be on a team, I owe it to my teammates to stay until at least the season ends? And don’t you remember telling me that somebody where you work didn’t like the boss telling him what to do so he quit? You called him a loser. So, if I quit, what’s that make me?

Dad, you taught me how to dribble a basketball when I was 4 years old. Then you put up a pole and a basketball net at the end of our driveway on my 11th birthday and we’d play for hours until it got dark. It was so much fun. I’m so confused right now Dad because I’m not having fun anymore and I can’t see it getting any better.

We have a girl on our team who doesn’t have a father. She told me he left when she was really young. She said how lucky I was to have you come to our games and when I told her how you and I used to play basketball together for hours, she started to cry. The other night at the game when they told you to leave the gym because you were yelling at the referee, she said, “Isn’t that your father?” I looked at her and I said yes. I felt terrible. I started to cry and she put her arm around me.

Dad, I don’t like what people say about you. They say there’s that crazy guy yelling at the referees again and the kids on my team now know it’s my father. I don’t feel angry about what they say. Now I just feel very sad. On the drive home last night, you said they would ban you from coming to the rest of the games if you do it again. Then you said you were going to talk to somebody on the school board and try to get the coach fired. Dad, the coach is really trying to get me to play better. I wanted to tell you to please stop blaming everyone, but I couldn’t. I was afraid you’d be mad at me.

You were the reason I loved to play basketball, but I don’t love it anymore. The other fathers don’t seem to do what you do. I asked Mom why you yell like that and even when you’re home, you yell a lot, and she says it’s because you get so stressed out at work and when you come to the games and see me sitting on the bench, you get mad about that and you let out your anger at the referees and the coach.

There’s this girl on our team who plays much less than me and last week, she scored her first basket of the year and I saw her dad stand up and shout, “That’s my girl!”

I wanted to hear that from you, Dad. No matter how much I play or how well I do, that’s all I ever wanted from you.

Please don’t come to my games anymore. Let me finish this season and after it’s over, I’m going to quit the team. I don’t care if everybody calls me a loser. I’m sorry, Dad. I hope you understand.

Love,

Me

Rich Strack can be reached at richiesadie11@gmail.com