Have these parents never seen 'two-a-day' football practices in August? Have they not read 'Junction Boys?" Might I suggest attending a few football games watching 'on the sidelines.' Television sensitizes the abundant violence of football-- HD, plasma and slo-mo create an almost ethereal experience. When one witnesses football up close, there is a preeminent dose of reality that, shall we say, awakens you like a double-shot of Cuban espresso. The game is faster that you thought. The players are bigger than you thought. The hits are real, not cartoon-like. Have you ever studied at football players hands? Have you looked in their medicine cabinet? When one makes the choice to allow their kid to play football--even of the tackle 'Pop" Warner variety-- it is a tacit acceptance of the violent nature of the sport. The probability of getting hit in the testicles, bit on the anlke, punched in the eye and having a incisor ripped out is the ante to 'get in the game.'
If you-- as a parent-- are considering allowing your child to play NCAA D1 football here's a tip: Go observe a practice before signing a National letter of intent. Football is a sport of violent collisions. It is not for the 'faint of heart.' And if you don't completely trust the head coach don't send your kid to that school. If you do trust the coach, then let him do what he thinks best. Provided the coach doesn't hit your kid --at least as hard as a linebacker might-- let the coach do what he does. And you, in turn, revel in being a supportive parent. The only time you should be truly angry is if the coach lies to your kid. That's when you get involved. Other issues like playing time and discipline-- allow your son to resolve it with the coaching staff. That is a hurdle on the road to manhood--every boy must cross it. God knows there are too many weak-ass adult males who -- as teenagers-- scurried away from the 'iron that would have sharpened them.' One does not become mentally tough without being tested.
I was cursed at, screamed at and called imaginative, creative names demeaning my race, ethnicity, culture, IQ, understanding of basketball, where I lived....etc. And today, I am no worse for it. Only weak players whine at being screamed at. If you're so 'Charmin-like' soft as a player that you can't stand a coach yelling at you, restrict your athletic exploits to PlayStation and leave the confines of the field--or the court-- for real men. Many boys would have benefited from a coach who cared for them, demanded discipline and exacted excellence from them-- and screamed and yelled-- and, perhaps isolated them in a closet.