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.

It's Been Years

By Mitch Arnold • July 27, 2025
When I was a kid growing up in Loup City, I went to Ord at least once per month to visit my grandparents and other relatives, and it wasn’t a trip that I was always eager to make. It wasn’t that I disliked seeing my relatives, but there were other things that I would have rather been doing. I sure couldn’t imagine making that trip on my own volition, but that’s exactly what I did a couple of Saturdays ago. My grandfather has been gone for more than 40 years now, and grandmother, more than 20. I can still remember them vividly, as well as their house and the heaping bowls of fudge and caramel covered ice cream I enjoyed in their kitchen as I listened to Grandpa tell stories between drags on his unfiltered Pall Mall cigarettes. Though I resisted those trips as a kid, if given the chance now, I would love to make one more visit, but time has moved on, and all I have are the memories. I’m a grandpa myself now, and that has given me a new perspective on the fleeting moments that we enjoy with loved ones. Years pass quickly these days, and with each new calendar we pin to the wall, we lose touch with people and places from our past. New people and places come into our lives, and we push aside the past to make room for them. While some of that is necessary and a part of life, I think that it’s also important to stay in touch with our roots. “How long has it been since you’ve seen your uncles?” my wife asked as we began the three-hour trip from Omaha to Ord. “It’s been years,” I replied. We don’t have the family reunions like we used to, and because travel becomes difficult or impossible for older people, we don’t have the opportunities we once had to cross paths with them. If we’re going to see the people and places from our past, we have to make an effort to do so. That’s what I was doing on that Saturday morning. My hometown of Loup City is only a 30-minute drive from Ord and just slightly off the route between Omaha and Ord, so I also took the opportunity to tour the town I hadn’t seen in more than a year. I drove the sleepy streets I once roamed on my bike. I went past the church I attended through childhood, as well as the home I grew up in and the home where my maternal grandparents lived. I stopped at my grandfather's grave and symbolically shared a beer with him. After lunch at the marina at the lake just outside of town, where I spent many summer afternoons boating with my family, I headed to Ord, driving past my aunt and uncle’s farm that I hadn’t seen in more than a decade. The Ord visit with my uncles was brief, but more rewarding than I had imagined. The laughter, smiles and stories were so familiar that it was hard to believe that it had been years since we had seen each other. I even bumped into three cousins that I hadn’t seen in years. As we headed back to Omaha, I thought about those childhood visits that I once resisted and began to appreciate why my parents insisted that we make them. Time is fleeting and waits for no one, but we can’t get so caught up in the present that we forget the past and the people and places that helped shape us into the people we are. If you have been thinking about the people and places from your past, take that as a sign that you need to visit them. Don’t just wait for the next opportunity, make that opportunity happen. You will be glad that you did.

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.