The Last Generation

The children of the 1970s and early 80s were the last generation of Americans to grow up without organized youth sports.

We did not have American Athletic Union (AAU) memberships, U.S. Youth Soccer (USYS), paid coaches, expensive uniforms, traveling the country for tournaments, parents as their children’s chauffeurs, an active pursuit of college sports scholarships, sport specialization, lost family weekends, week-long sleep-away sports camps, select sports, and adults trying to make a living as youth coaches. We had our backyards, our playgrounds, our streets, our schools, and each other.

In the ‘70s, summertime meant waking up, getting dressed, eating breakfast, and heading out to play with friends. Depending on where we lived, the last words we heard before we left the house were, “Be home before dinner,” “Get home before the streetlights go on,” or “You know the bus schedule, be on the last bus if you don’t wanna walk.”

In the Midwest, where I grew up, there weren’t many fences, and all the back yards butted up against each other, so we had what seemed like football fields worth of combined spaces to play whatever games we dreamed up. (A recent return visit as an adult revealed it wasn’t even half as big as I remembered.) Depending on the numbers and equipment we had that day, we would play football, baseball, basketball, frisbee, soccer, tag, pickle, 500, or any game we could make up.

It was not uncommon to play hybrid games that borrowed from the rules of several games to make one free-for-all game. Somewhere in there, I think we probably invented Ultimate Frisbee, though we referred to it as frisbee football and allowed people to run with the disc. Tag had what seemed like dozens of variations. Sometimes we had team tag. Sometimes we played capture the flag. We even had a game we thought we made up, statue maker, where the statue maker spun you around and when you let go, you had to end up in some statue-like position.

I remember a friend of mine had some apple trees on his lot, and one day when we were sitting in his front yard, we thought it would be a great idea to have what was essentially a snowball fight with the apples on the ground. It ended shortly after it began when I led my friend, who was running from my right to my left, perfectly on a throw that nailed him right in the temple.

While these situations weren’t frequent, they happened enough that we all learned a thing or two about crisis management and first aid. We knew what we could solve ourselves, and we knew when we needed to bring in someone’s mom, dad, sister, or brother. (We usually tried brothers and sisters first… less chance of getting in trouble.) These situations were also useful in learning the power of the apology—which was just as often used as an insurance policy against getting in trouble as it was because you really felt badly.

When nighttime came, we’d play until we couldn’t see anymore. Then we’d transition to jailbreak or kick-the-can. Hide and seek was especially difficult at night, so we’d only play that when we all had special permission to be out later, or if we were all sleeping over at someone’s house.

Whether it was day or night, everyone was welcome to participate. Boys. Girls. Kids who were new to the neighborhood. Kids from other neighborhoods. Older kids. Younger kids. Cousins. Visiting family. Great athletes. Poor athletes. No one cared. Whoever was around was welcome to join us. And no matter who you knew or where you were from, we all learned to take turns.

We didn’t need tryouts. We just counted heads, divided up, and made teams. Sometimes we picked teams, but we all understood that some are better than others, and you don’t just get picked first for showing up.

Participating didn’t cost anyone anything either, except perhaps the cost of new equipment as we used up, broke, or lost the old equipment. But even then, we were resourceful and creative in our replacements until someone was able to get new and proper equipment.

We didn’t have uniforms. We just relied on our ability to remember who was on our team. Every so often, you’d throw the ball to someone you thought was on your team. But they would just throw it back, erase the play, and start again.

Without parents present, it was up to us to resolve our own disputes. None of us knew all the rules to any one sport, and we were often making up new rules on the fly, so we all had to learn some diplomacy and problem solving so we could move the game on. When there was an argument, no pressure was greater than the rest of the group sitting there and staring at the two arguing, applying the proper pressure to get it resolved so we could all play again.

Through these situations, we learned how to express ourselves to each other. We learned how to be honest with each other and how best to navigate the needs, demands, and wishes of everyone in the group. We learned how to negotiate and compromise without the need for our parents to step in and argue on our behalf.

Sure, sometimes there was some fisticuffs, and sometimes someone ended up going home in tears, or just literally taking their ball and going home. But we all learned the tools necessary to get the games rolling again. And we learned when to apply them. We knew who would be the right person to head over and convince someone who left in tears that we really wanted them back. We also learned who responded best to the challenge of merciless teasing. (I’m pretty sure we felt like we invented the phrase, “What is ya, yella?”)

Regardless of the score, we all learned to have a thick skin because the teasing and trash talk was relentless. If you struck out, missed a shot, whiffed on a soccer kick, or dropped an easy fly ball, someone was going to let you know about it. In the heat of competition, we would use every advantage available to us, including mind games. If we could get under your skin, you could count on everyone trying. We didn’t just learn how to take it. We learned how to dish it out.

As a result of all this outdoor play, we were all also healthy. Back then, we didn’t think of it as exercise, but we got plenty of it. Some of those sessions would be non-stop and last for hours. On the roughest or hottest days, we all had the willow tree in my backyard to give us the shade we craved.

Perhaps the most important lesson, though, was that when the games were all over, we all walked away friends and headed over to someone’s house to celebrate the victors and make fun of the losers. When I talk about this now, many express concerns about being made fun of, and why we would think that was alright. But those who grew up with it knew all too well that it was when they weren’t making fun of you that you had to worry. Being able to make fun of yourself, and take it from others, was the way we showed each other how much love, comfort, and trust we shared.

Giving each other a hard time was also a great excuse to exercise and stretch our senses of humor. If you had a one liner or comment, it was almost a crime not to share it with the gang. And if something was funny enough, you just couldn’t be upset about it - even if it was said in your direction.

Sometimes you just have to say what you’re thinking. We all learned to do that, too. No one had to guess what another was thinking. They’d let you know. No one held back on what they were thinking. There were very few filters. But that helped us learn to respect each other’s thoughts and ideas. We also learned how to disagree with respect (mostly) and still be friends.

Playing without adults present allowed us to learn and grow in ways we couldn’t have if we had grown up today. Left to our own devices, we were given the opportunity to learn, experience, and grow in ways that would shape us forever.

We all only had house phones, and we all knew how to use them. So if you wanted to play with someone, and you wanted to save a step, you called them yourself. If they were home, you were in! If not, you just called or went over to the home of your next option until you found someone.

Walking over to your friend’s house, ringing the doorbell, and asking, “Is Jeff home?” or “Can Jeff come out and play?” was the currency of the day. And if you went over to someone’s house, and they already had someone over, they just invited you in and all three of you played. The more the merrier.

In the absence of adults, we made our own choices, used our own judgment, and navigated our friendships on our own. Sometimes we handled things great. Sometimes we failed miserably. When we failed, we learned from it, asked for forgiveness (usually), and moved on to the next thing. In the 70s, touching a hot stove truly meant touching a hot stove. And when you got burned, that lesson was seared into your head. We rarely made the same mistakes twice.

Playing together, without parents, also taught us how to win and lose. We weren’t burdened by our parent’s desire to win. We didn’t have to mirror or support any of their bad habits or carry the jealousy some parents have for other parents whose kids are better or more athletic. We quickly learned that if we wanted to keep playing the games and keep our friends, you couldn’t be a horrible loser. On the flip side, you couldn’t be an ass when you win, because no one would want to play with you then, either.

We didn’t know it at the time… we couldn’t have known it at the time… but we would be part of the last generation to grow up without widespread organized youth sports. We would be the last to learn life lessons we didn’t even know we were learning through the experience of trying and failing without the constant presence of adults.

There were no adults present to meddle, make decisions, pressure, gossip, enforce rules, yell at the kids, or even to just sit quietly, cheer nicely, and enjoy the show. We learned by trial and error. We felt and guessed our way through things until we saw what worked and what didn’t.

We were young, free, and healthy. We woke up, charged up with breakfast, and headed outside to conquer the day. And if, for some reason, there was an energy deficiency, you were always one bowl of Lucky Charms or spoonful of sugar away from maximum power.

It sounds a bit idyllic, when I think back on it. But it was. We were truly free to make our own choices and decisions and learn from them. And there were no parents hovering around to guide events. It was trial, error, learn, and try again. And we would be the last generation of kids to grow up this way.

* * *

Fast forward 30 years. My wife and daughter, after 11 years living in Wisconsin, relocated to Seattle for a job. When we arrived, it was cold and gray. There were fences everywhere and kids who wanted to play with my daughter had their parents call us to make a play date. Adults were involved in every aspect of kids’ lives.

I should have been able to predict how this would all inevitably play out. But then, I don’t think anyone could have…