Student-Athlete Criticism from a Parent’s Perspective

Mitch Arnold • August 21, 2023

There was an illegal procedure called on the field, and the inebriated commentator seated a couple rows behind me was quick with her analysis. “Whenever there’s an illegal procedure called, it’s almost always the center’s fault.” It wasn’t the first time she shared her commentary with the entire section, but this one got my attention because my son was the center, starting his first home game on national television as a redshirt freshman.


I’ve been thinking about that moment lately, as we near the start of the college football season, a time of year when fans across the nation lose their minds over a game played by young men just a few years removed from getting their driver’s licenses. Now, before the first snap, everyone loves the players on their team. Once the games start, however, some of those same players become idiots, worthless, losers and much worse, when profanities are included.


While I can appreciate the passion of fans, I’m really bothered when that passion devolves into derision, especially since I had an inside view into what goes on behind the scenes with college football players. Playing college football, especially at the highest level, is a full-time job for these guys, and when you factor in school, it’s much more. That’s when everything is going well. Injuries, relationship problems, being homesick – any number of things – can make things even more difficult.


The physical challenges are obvious, but most critics are completely unaware or oblivious of the mental challenges facing athletes. I saw that recently, when a star player for the big team in my state left the team, saying he just wasn’t into football any longer. Some fans on the message boards I frequent opined about the player’s toughness, stamina and ambition. To them, the player’s self-awareness was subjugated to their desire to see him on the field entertaining them. Such thinking relegates student-athletes to gladiators, and that’s just wrong.


 The quarterback my son played with in college, a redshirt freshman getting his first starts with my son, received vile message from “fans,” after losing that first home game to a nationally ranking Washington State team led by the late coach Mike Leach. This quarterback had taken over for Josh Allen, who became an All-Pro with the Buffalo Bills, and these “fans” were upset that he wasn’t playing at that level. To express their anger, they sent him messages not only criticizing his performance, but also suggesting that he kill himself. Imagine being a nineteen-year-old, already upset with the loss, receiving messages like that.


Fortunately, most fans are rational and keep their negative comments to themselves. Unfortunately, they are often overshadowed by the crude behavior of others. Most of us have heard it often enough that we’re numb to it or perhaps we’re forgiving because we’ve muttered some of that negativity ourselves. I did, before I was able to see things from a parent’s perspective.


Now, when I hear negative comments about any athlete, I try to counter the criticism with perspective and to humanize the subject of the criticism. If you haven’t played at that level and you don’t know the athlete personally, how could you ever appreciate what they’re going through? Even more, how would you feel if someone said that about your son?


Football is in the past for my son and our family. Like most college athletes, his career didn’t culminate at the professional level. Instead, he’s out in the real world, trying to make his mark as a family man and a professional. That’s where most of the athletes we so harshly criticize go, while their critics carry on their antics. Though I wanted to, I didn’t try to correct my son’s critic that afternoon in the stands. Instead, I try to do that with myself and the people I know, and I hope others do the same, until it’s no longer socially acceptable.

But, Could It Be Better?

By Mitch Arnold • July 26, 2026
When facing challenging situations, my go-to response is often “it could be worse.” It’s raining: it could be worse. We could be scooping this stuff. It’s hot outside: it could be worse. At least we have air conditioning. The “it could be worse” response is a simple and common way of putting things into perspective, summoning at least a modicum of gratitude and showing the absurdity of petty complaining. Unfortunately, it can also blind us to the potential of “it could be better.” I say it aloud frequently when I am with people, but I also mutter “it could be worse,” to myself when I am alone and struggling with my mobility. That simple phrase has brought me peace and acceptance, as I have experienced progressive physical challenges throughout most of my entire adult life. While things could definitely be worse, and I’m right to summon gratitude when negativity creeps in, I was recently reminded that sometimes things could be better, and if that’s possible, I should do everything I can to make them better. For more than 40 years, I have lifted weights five to six times per week, and that has allowed me to maintain a fairly active lifestyle, but lifting alone isn’t cutting it anymore. Despite frequent exercise, I have struggled to get around more than usual for the past year or so, and that has made my world even smaller. Despite this, I persisted with a positive attitude and told myself, “it could be worse.” Not until the discomfort and limitations began to prevent me from doing things I should be doing, like meeting friends for breakfast, did I consider the possibility that things could be better. Making sure that I realized this was my wife Lynda who had been on me to try physical therapy, since my primary physician wrote a prescription for it a year and a half ago. I resisted because, though I am positive about almost everything else, I was pessimistic about what modern medicine could do for me. I had done physical therapy as a child, and have undergone several medical procedures that did little to improve my condition and seemed to provide only frustration. How was this going to be different? But it was. After only two sessions and a daily regimen of stretching and purposeful movement over the past four weeks, plus the strength training, I have already improved my mobility. Stairs are easier and walking, less painful and troublesome. That has greatly helped my energy level, focus and confidence. Even when I fell and sprained my ankle a couple of days ago, the recovery was easier. While things could definitely be better, they could also be much worse, as they were for me a month or so ago. Had I not relented and at least considered the possibility that things could be better, I would have continued being unnecessarily limited. Are you unnecessarily limited? If you are going through a difficult period in your life – maybe your job or a relationship isn’t as fulfilling as it once was – consider the possibility that things could be better. Always lean into gratitude for what you have, but don’t let resignation obscure options for improvement.

Don’t Skimp on Experience

By Mitch Arnold • May 25, 2026
Recently, as occasionally happens when I watch the golfers on the course behind my home, I caught myself thinking about what it would be like to be out there again. Only this time, I also thought about the cost of golf, and began calculating how much I’ve saved by not golfing over the past 20-some years. Of course, I would rather golf than have the money I saved by not golfing, but due to a physical disability that increasingly limits my life, that isn’t an option. Thus, instead of fretting about something I can’t change, I comforted myself with math and tested my mastery of the positive explanatory style . With green fees, cart and the obligatory cold beverages, I estimated that each round would have cost me around $75. If I got out twice per month over five months of relatively nice Nebraska weather, I would golf approximately ten rounds per year, for a cost of $750. Multiply that by 20 years, and I’ve saved $15,000 or the cost of a pretty nice motorcycle. I used to ride motorcycles too, but haven’t been able to do that in more than 30 years. If I were still riding motorcycles, I figure that I would have probably had at least two during that time. Factoring in taxes, insurance and maintenance, I estimate that I’ve saved nearly $50,000 by not riding motorcycles for the past three decades. I also haven’t used a comb or paid for a haircut in nearly 30 years. However, unlike golf and motorcycles, that has nothing to do with my disability and everything to do with my genetics. Still, by avoiding monthly haircuts at $20 a pop, I’ve been able to save over $7000. I share this exercise with you not to try to talk you out of spending money on the things that bring you happiness, quite the opposite actually. You should absolutely do the things you love while you still can. In almost all cases, the money you spend on experiences is an investment in your life, and you owe it to yourself to get the most out of life that you can. Most of us, at some point in our lives, will lose the ability to do the things that once brought us happiness, and all that we will have left will be the memories. When that happens, we should cherish the memories of all that we have experienced, and look for other outlets to enhance our lives. Travel now fills the gaps once occupied by golf and motorcycles. With the help of my wife and some incredibly supportive friends, I’ve been able to visit some remarkable places like Charleston and Nashville, and enjoy unforgettable experiences, like a Green Bay Packers football game and the NCAA Final Four. Admittedly, travel gets a little more difficult each year, but that only increases my urgency to do more of it and enhances my gratitude of what I can still do, because I know that, some day, if I live long enough, I’ll be calculating the money I’m saving by not travelling. Television writer and producer Taylor Sheridan agrees, as you can see in this clip from the Paramount+ series, The Madison. https://www.youtube.com/shorts/tydIBHknM_s Don’t wait until everything is in order to invest in experiences. Accept the golf invitation. Buy the motorcycle. Take the trip. Prioritize making memories while you still can, because some day, those memories are going to be more valuable than whatever you have in the bank.