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.

Surviving a Collision with a Garbage Truck

By Mitch Arnold • June 29, 2025
I got hit by a garbage truck the other day, but was able to recover quickly, because it wasn’t the first time it happened, and it won’t be the last. It’s an unfortunate reality that everyone will occasionally run into a garbage truck through no fault of their own. (see ‘The Law of the Garbage Truck” below) One day I hopped in a taxi and we took off for the airport. We were driving in the right lane when suddenly a black car jumped out of a parking space right in front of us. My taxi driver slammed on his brakes, skidded, and missed the other car by just inches! The driver of the other car whipped his head around and started yelling at us. My taxi driver just smiled and waved at the guy. And I mean, he was really friendly. So I asked, ‘Why did you just do that? This guy almost ruined your car and sent us to the hospital!’ This is when my taxi driver taught me what I now call, ‘The Law of the Garbage Truck.’ He explained that many people are like garbage trucks. They run around full of garbage, full of frustration, full of anger, and full of disappointment. As their garbage piles up, they need a place to dump it! Sometimes they’ll dump it on you. Don’t take it personally. Just smile, wave, wish them well, and move on. Don’t take their garbage and spread it to other people at work, at home, or on the streets. The bottom line is that successful people do not let garbage trucks take over their day. The garbage truck in my latest collision was a prospect who I had never talked to, before picking up the phone and calling him about a position I was helping a client fill. Within seconds of introducing myself, his aggressive tone began to dominate. He demanded that I tell him who my client was and how much they were going to pay. I assured him that I would answer those questions once we determined that his background was a good fit and that he was interested in learning more. Finally, I offered to arrange a call at his convenience, when we could discuss the opportunity further. We never got to that point. After sending him some information on the opportunity, he repeated his earlier demands, this time through text messaging. In our exchange, I was able to determine that his background wasn’t a fit, so I thanked him for his time and asked if he could confidentially refer anyone. He responded by calling me a “god-awful recruiter.” I know that I’m a pretty good recruiter, and was fairly certain that he was a miserable person (garbage truck), but I held off on sharing those opinions with him. Instead, I just backed away, recalling “The Law of the Garbage Truck.” I wasn’t going to spend any more mental energy on him than I already had, and I surely wasn’t going to dump his garbage on someone else. Furthermore, I knew that my faith in humanity would soon be restored when I visited the gym over the lunch hour for my daily workout. Knowing that there are already too many garbage trucks wandering around out there, I try to be just the opposite, and the gym gives me a place to put that effort into practice. Because I appreciate friendly, positive people, I try to be one myself. I attempt to learn the names of the people I routinely see, like the front desk people, custodian and regular members, and I try to make connections with those who are receptive. And, I try to do that all with a smile, regardless of how I feel, even if I’m still stinging from a garbage truck collision. Per usual, the gym atmosphere didn’t disappoint. I exchanged pleasantries with people who expect me to be there at the same time almost every day, and enjoyed conversations that completely erased the garbage truck from my memory. Getting older has taught me that kindness pays dividends, and that even when it can’t save you from garbage truck collisions, it can certainly make them easier to recover from. Take the time to create a refuge of kindness that you can rely on when something like a garbage truck threatens to ruin your day. It’s worth the effort.

Acceptance vs. Resistance

By Mitch Arnold • May 28, 2025
I bought my first and only motorcycle in 1993. It probably wasn’t a good idea then, and it’s a much worse idea now, but that didn’t stop me from recently considering doing it again. I was only 23 years old and still in my invincible era, when I strapped on my helmet and rode off on my own two wheels for the first time. Understandably, a few naysayers shook their heads and voiced their opinions about me endangering a body that was already fraught with challenges; however, like I did often back then, I ignored their concerns, and was able to ride with no problems. To me, the motorcycle represented freedom. I loved being able to enjoy the open road. I even rode it on a thousand-plus mile round-trip journey to Sturgis for the annual motorcycle rally. Getting kind of smug, I began to envision myself as a life-long biker, but two years later, life intervened. I was moving half-way across the country and getting married, so the motorcycle had to go. In fact, I sold it to pay for an engagement ring, promising myself that I would buy another one when I was established and had the finances to do so. Things didn’t work out the way that I had planned. Fatherhood and home ownership ate up my finances and time, and a second motorcycle kept getting pushed down the line of priorities. Meanwhile, despite my best efforts, my body aged more quickly than I had hoped it would. For most of my life, my resistance to my physical limitations has enabled me to get the most out of imperfect body. Tell me that I couldn’t do something, and you could bet that I was going to try, if only to prove to myself that I could. That resistance allowed me to overcome significant challenges and to succeed when success didn’t seem likely. Lately though, as my limitations have grown and my sense of self-preservation has become stronger, I’ve been trending toward acceptance. Both acceptance and resistance are natural responses to change, and change happens to all of us, especially as we age. While resistance can challenge the status quo, sparking innovation and resilience, acceptance often opens the door to growth, fostering a sense of peace and adaptability. That’s where I’m at now, at least most of the time. Still, when my uncle told me that he was selling his motorcycle, those thoughts of acceptance were elbowed aside by thoughts of resistance. I began to rationalize motorcycle ownership and to imagine myself in the seat again, handlebars in my grip. I could now afford the bike of my dreams, and even had a spot in the garage to park it. I didn’t plan to ride it to Sturgis again, but I thought it would be fun to ride it to the gym and on quiet Sunday mornings, like I used to do. When I researched parking a motorcycle in a handicapped space, I should have realized the insanity of the idea, but resistance tamped down logic. My wife, to her credit, let me play those scenarios out in my head and gave me room to dream, knowing that logic would eventually prevail. And, it did. One slip-up on a bike, and I would suddenly and dramatically limit what I could do with the rest of my life. Accepting that reality was important, and I’m happy that I was able to do it. Being able to accept who I am – all of it, even the limitations – has given me peace and perspective. It’s not always easy to accept limitations and new realities, but it’s crucial if we want to live a life without regret, and I’m finally there.
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