The kids aren't all right

DESPITE EXCEPTIONS LIKE TIGER WOODS AND SIDNEY CROSBY, MOST CHILD PHENOMS WET THEIR DIAPERS OVER THE MASSIVE PRESSURE PLACED UPON THEM. IT'S TIME PARENTS HANDLED THEIR CHILDREN MORE RESPONSIBLY.

One Sunday afternoon in 1995, as we watched a sweaty, hung over John Daly win the British Open, my dad told me the legend of a child prodigy.

“I remember this little kid named Tiger Woods,” he said. “He was on that old show That’s Amazing! The kid was scoring in the 90s at age two! I wonder what happened to him.”

As we learned in the years following, a hell of a lot happened to him. By the time he reached his early twenties, many already considered him the greatest golfer who ever lived and he’s arguably Earth’s most iconic athlete since Muhammad Ali.

How can you not be captivated by Tiger’s entire existence? A child dominating a sport from the day he could walk is ridiculous. Not as ridiculous as a goat penning a novel or Josh Towers throwing eight shutout innings, but not far off.

His story is inspiring but, as we’re learning with each new Michelle Wie or Freddy Adu, it’s equally dangerous.

With massive media frenzies surrounding child prodigies like Woods, athletes’ parents are seeing dollar signs and turning their kids’ lifestyles upside down to create their own phenoms. It’s time they woke up and realized they’re hurting their offspring, not helping them, more often than not.

Usually, a child prodigy’s ascension follows a pattern. First he ruins his local competition. Picture a seventh-grade basketball tournament with one lanky 6’5” kid dunking over 5’4” kids who haven’t hit puberty; as awesome as it is unfair. Then he creates local media buzz and his name starts spreading around the country like a myth. Sports media juggernauts like Sports Illustrated hear about the kid and start masturbating to him in print, billing him as “the next (insert legendary superstar athlete’s name here).”

From that point on, the athlete’s childhood virtually disappears. The Adus, Wies and Sidney Crosbys become media darlings. School becomes homeschool or a travelling tutor; action figures take a backseat to six-figure endorsement deals; proms and parties give way to autograph sessions and tournaments with teammates and opponents several years their senior.

Then pressure begins building. We all know it – that shaky feeling John Travolta gets every time a new movie starring him comes out. “Will Be Cool bring me back? Or will it be the nail in the coffin for my sometimes decent, often pathetic career?”

It’s a stressful and sometimes upsetting feeling, right? Well, do you remember how much worse it was when you were a kid? Morgan Pressel took flak for crying after Birdie Kim chipped in to steal the 2005 U.S. Women’s Open from her. Did she crumble and cry because she lacked toughness? Possibly. Or maybe she was a CHILD PLAYING IN A MAJOR PROFESSIONAL WOMEN’S CHAMPIONSHIP, for Christ’s sake.

For every Tiger or Crosby who overcomes massive pressure and succeeds at a young age, a dozen child phenoms crack. Michelle Wie looks more frazzled every week and hasn’t won a tournament yet. Freddy Adu appears afraid to test his skills across the Atlantic. Justin Rose spent a decade in limbo after a strong ’98 British Open before finally developing into a solid golfer. It’s unfair to call them busts; how can we expect them to succeed when they’re still kids – when they haven’t even discovered who they are and how they perceive the world yet?

When I see a Michelle Wie flounder at a men’s event, I wonder whom a quest like hers is really for. I doubt she woke up one day and said, “I need to make a million dollars today. I need it now. It can’t wait five or six years. I need to be a 13-year-old millionaire.”

Most likely, the culprits are the parents who want to turn their kids into walking ATMs. The media don’t help, either; their overhype of youths inspires other parents to push their kids and constant coverage or replays of serious injuries scares mommy and daddy into milking money out of them before any health ailments arise.

As a result, these poor kids, who could become just as dominant if not more dominant athletes if they had time to grow up first, lose their childhoods. No one knows that better than old pals Michael Jackson and Macaulay Culkin. Jacko lived an adult’s life as a child, working like a dog under an abusive father. It’s no wonder he wants to ride roller coasters and play Seven Minutes in Heaven with 12-year-old boys; he never had a childhood. Culkin’s life was also torn apart as his parents fought over their little blonde commodity.

The child prodigy is a relatively new phenomenon in sports; we haven’t truly seen what the long-term psychological consequences of losing one’s childhood are. So shouldn’t we view Michael and Macaulay’s stories as warning signs?

Mr. and Mrs. Wie, your daughter is a true specimen. But guess what? She’ll still be a specimen in 10 years. You could’ve waited. Maybe if you did, she’d be winning tournaments instead of faking an injury to avoid being barred from LPGA events because of poor scores. Instead, you’ve forced your daughter into an adult’s life. She’ll never get to make out with that scrawny emo kid at a bush party and puke her guts out the next morning after downing too many Jell-O shooters. Shame on you.

Even if Wie’s parents, or those of any other super athlete, don’t actively pressure their kids into competing at the highest possible levels, they’re just as bad if they don’t know when to stop them from growing up too early.

The child pressure syndrome is worse for some sports than others, depending on how much physical maturity is needed to compete at the top level. Football parents, for example, at least don’t have to worry about seeing their 12-year-old absorb a Sean Taylor killshot. But sports relating more to technique than physical strength, especially golf, are tempting money traps. The latest victim is 12-year-old Alexis Thompson, who competed in the U.S. Women’s Open two weekends ago. She missed the cut. Michelle Wie, by the way, withdrew with a wrist injury after firing a first-round 82.

My dad and I had another conversation that 1995 weekend.

Me: Dad, what should I be – a pro hockey player or pro baseball player?

Dad: Well, Mattie, it’s tough to say, I don’t know if you’re –

Me: All I want to know is which one. Just tell me which one!

Dad: Well, I don’t, uh, know if you can…make it, you know? It’s very hard to be a pro…

Thanks for looking out for me, Dad. You crushed my dreams because you love me. And I got to have a real childhood.

-- M.L.