This brings up an old post I keep handy to remind parents what dirtbikes are really about for our kids;
Contrary to what you will no doubt infer from the following lines, my
father is a great man-not a jerk. He served two tours of duty in Vietnam
and started a third tour before getting injured. Racing motocross is what I
wanted to do since my earliest what-I-wanna-be-when-I-grow-up thoughts. He gave me that opportunity when I was 11 years old, and I will always be
grateful to him for it. My dad, like any good parent, wanted me to have the
opportunities he never had, to live the dreams he never go to, but sometimes
he got so wrapped up in his dreams for me that he forgot about my dreams.
Eventually I got the chance to race my first race in the 80cc Beginner class at De Anza Cycle Park. I got dead last in both motos and I loved it!
There was just something about leaving the start gate with 15 other riders
that got my adrenaline going-so much so that I looped out right out of the
gate in the second moto in an attempt to get a better start. I loved those
days. I loved getting up in the morning too early to open my eyes to drive
to the track on the weekends. I loved riding motorcycles.
It was rather infrequent at first, but sometimes, especially at the bigger
races, if I didn't do well, my dad would say some mean things to me. He
would say things like "You're worthless" and "Why did we drive out here so
you could ride around the track like a wimp on a Sunday ride?" He started
to forget why we were doing it. It was supposed to be for fun and bonding,
but he actually, genuinely got his feelings hurt if I fell or rode poorly in
a race.
I came off the track at Perris Raceway during the Night Series after
finishing midpack. I knew I'd had a poor race, and I knew my dad knew it
too. I had pretty heavy arm pump, and I was expecting to hand over the bike
to him in the pits so he could put it on the stand, and I could get my gear
off. I knew he'd be upset. I parked the motorcycle next to the stand and
watched as my dad walked up-I could tell he was pissed. As I reached down
to turn the gas off, I heard a loud smack inside my helmet. I almost fell
off my bike. My dad had delivered an open handed blow across my head-helmet on, of course-but he was that upset-so upset that he hit me.
Racing never really got the fun back for me. It's had a negative connotation in my mind since I was in my very early teens. All because, ultimately, my dad wanted me to be Jeremy McGrath more than he cared about having fun. I wasn't around when Jeremy was coming up through the ranks, but I could almost guarantee you that Jeremy's father never screamed at him for losing, or threatened him in any way. That's part of why he is where he is, at the top of our sport.
If you don't think your child tried hard enough, or cares enough, he's not
going to try any harder or care any more if you force him to. Actually, it'
ll probably have quite the opposite effect.
If you're a mini parent, you can take it from me that what your kid wants
most is to have fun. Chances are that he or she won't ever ride a factory
bike, and chances are even better that you'll never get the money back out
of motocross racing that you put into it. The focus should be more on
whether or not your kid has a smile under that helmet, and less on whether
or not your kid beat so-and-so's kid. It's ridiculous to spend college-tuition money on racing in the hopes that some day Junior will sign a multimillion-dollar contract to race motorcycles.
Little 12-year-old Timmy isn't racing for the 250cc Supercross
championship. He's racing for fun.