My Will Smith Moment
I understand his sentiment, if not his methods.
The Oscars were all the buzz this morning. As usual, there were a bunch of movies I haven’t seen and rambling speeches, and I know this without even watching it. Imagine my surprise when the local news teased a clip at the top of the show of one guy hitting another! A glance at Twitter unveiled the whole sordid affair.
The Oscars traditionally contain a fair amount of celebrity roasting. This night, Chris Rock targeted Jada Pinkett Smith, wife of Will Smith. Referencing her shaved head, Rock joked that he’s looking forward to seeing her in G.I. Jane 2. Demi Moore sported a similar shaved head in the fictional 1997 military movie, G.I. Jane. Will Smith was initially laughing at the joke but his wife who struggles with Alopecia was not amused. This is when Will Smith took the stage, delivered a hefty slap to Chris Rock, and returned to his seat.
Debates have ensued about what topics are off-limits as jokes and what are appropriate responses from the offended parties? Chris Rock’s corner defends jokes as harmless fun. Will Smith’s corner applauds him for defending his wife. I have no strong feelings about it because it has nothing to do with me, but I have been known to act without thinking when it comes to defending my own.
The setting was an intense one: a second-grade soccer game. If you’re laughing it’s because you’ve never experienced one. Everyone else just had chills go down their spine. My son played for fun, which is highly unusual in youth sports. We agreed to let him join the team because fresh air, exercise, and playing with friends seemed like a good idea. My husband and I knew absolutely nothing about soccer other than it’s fun to kick a ball.
It didn’t take long to pick up on the seriousness of the sport to a large segment of the parental population. I dismissed this observation because it didn’t affect my kid having fun. Before each practice, I instructed my son to listen to the coach and have fun with his friends. Seemed simple enough.
Then the games began and I sensed some pent-up aggression in Dad Coach. He was going to make his mark on second-grade soccer come hell or high water. His son knew the drill and was a fierce little athlete. My son, on the other hand, had a difficult time tracking which direction he should be kicking the ball. It was also a time in his life when he needed about five solid seconds to process an instruction. That was 4.75 seconds too long for Dad Coach.
In this particular game, Dad Coach was yelling for my son to go down the line. Since he’s my kid, he had no idea what that meant so he ran along the white line. Dad Coach yelled again and my son came back to him. The instruction was repeated, and my son hit that white line again. This time, Dad Coach decided to emphasize his instruction with a frustrated push to my son’s back. My son fell forward, and off I went.
I walked right up behind Dad Coach and calmly addressed him. He turned to me, quite surprised. I evenly told him that not all kids are athletes like his son, and he is never to put his hands on mine again. I can’t say his reaction was entirely surprising. This church-going, philanthropic board member and Boy Scout leader unloaded a tirade of profanities in my face. I pointed my finger at his and told him to not touch my son again.
This got my husband’s attention. He had been busy as the honorary sideline-boy-wrangler this game and did not see the events on the field unfold. His entire career has been de-escalating situations, so I was confident this would be calmly resolved in his hands.
With that, I marched back to my waiting younger child. Seasoned soccer parents will know that a smooth exit is not possible. You must first address the situation with the canvas chairs. Shaking, I fumbled to fold mine up and squeeze it into the little condom bag that it came in. And I did it while not a single parent looked at me or said a word.
These were the same parental comrades that had been with me since Kindergarten. The ones I shared herding duties with on field trips and concocted stupid games with for class parties. The same ones that shared worries about their kids and stories of their hilarious antics. But now, there was silence.
I would later learn that parents didn’t speak up because they feared retaliation from Dad Coach. It was important to them that their child get playing time, and they would not jeopardize that by standing up to him. In second grade soccer.
I don’t know if Will Smith would repeat his moment, but I would certainly repeat mine. Only he knows what led him to take that action, and he is the one who lives with the consequences. Fortunately for me, living with my consequences was easy. Being snubbed by parents who won’t stick up for their kids because of a sport was insignificant. What was significant was my child recognizing that I would not stand idly by while he was mistreated. He learned that I would never be too afraid to protect him. Perhaps Will Smith was sending the same message to Chris Rock’s face.
