1992-93: The Prep Year In Review : Parents Always Ring Twice

The memories from a high school sports season are limited only by the number of people taking it all in. The members of The Times Orange County prep sports staff have provided the commentaries on these two pages about the people, events and issues that made the greatestimpression on them in the last 10 months.

R iiiing.

Who would it be this time?

Riiiing.

A principal? A coach? A player? Please, not the Red Cross looking for another pint.

Riiiing.

In a county gone bonkers over prep sports, telephone calls to the office are never boring. The daily exercise can even be fun. And never more so than when a parent is on the line.

“You’re a Mater Dei honk.”

“You hate Mater Dei.”

“Where is Mater Dei?”

It comes with the job. Still, I never expected to be compared to Hitler. After all--and I hope I’m not going out on a limb here--he was a very bad man.

But perspective is subjective, and it can lead to some interesting conclusions. Never more so than that day this year when I was called an anti-Semite.

Hey, I had it coming, of course.

“Why wasn’t my son picked as one of the top players?” was how it calmly started. It ended with, “I hope it’s not because my son is Jewish.”

Ah, parents. God bless ‘em.

I have a couple myself, so I know of what I speak. They raise you, they nurture you, and, given the chance, they will devour your enemies--real or imagined.

Kind of an Ozzie and Harriet thing, only with nunchakus.

Prep parents are a gas. They are a reminder that, no matter how crazy life seems, there’s someone out there who really does think he’s Napoleon.

Most are just fine. Oh, they may have blinders on when it comes to their child’s athletic ability and athletic future--like those who are certain their 5-foot-10, 170-pound son with the 4.8 speed is the next great running back at USC. Still, generally, these parents are reasonable.

But there is a faction out there who aren’t and they all know how to use the phone.

This year, in anger, a parent offered to bet hard cash that his son’s team would win a playoff game. The offer was turned down. Such gambling is, of course, illegal.

Another time, it was suggested that I, personally, hated a particular team, the high school from which it came and the city in which it was located. Naturally, this was false. But I really wasn’t crazy about their uniform color scheme. (Thought it best not to mention this at the time).

No possible slight is overlooked. One parent asked, “Do you only run photos of kids making errors?”

We reporters aren’t alone. Former Canyon wrestling Coach Gary Bowden once said that his goal was to be a head coach at an orphanage.

Most coaches grin and bear it. Even the ones who are having their heads called for on a platter--with an apple in their mouth, of course.

A few years ago, a number of folks in Irvine thought Terry Henigan was the dumbest, the most pitiful, the absolute worst football coach who ever existed. Now, two Southern Section titles later, they want to canonize him, instead of wanting to aim a cannon at him.

Parents are essential to any athletic program. Among other things, they do provide the kids. But there are no clearly marked boundaries for their participation.

Give ‘em enough rope, and they’ll try to hang you with it.

It starts with, “Have you seen my son play?” and ends with, “You evil man.” Somewhere between you realize, “Geez, this person must really like their kid.”

You’re silly. You’re wacky. You’re fun. You’re, well, parents.

Oh, by the way. Any complaints, and I’m telling Dad.