For an extreme case, look at tennis pro Mary Pierce, whose father Jim was so disruptive at various tournaments that he was banned from all events sanctioned by the Women's Tennis Association. The problem typically was his shouting during matches. But Pierce has also been criticized for being a tough coach. It's been said, for example, that he'd make his daughter spend hours in the rain hitting tennis balls in a parking lot after losing a match (Washington Post).
"I was her strength, her backbone," her father has been quoted as saying. "Yes, I pushed and drove her to the top. I always made her feel like she wasn't quite good enough. I wanted her to work to go up another three levels."
Competing in such a charged atmosphere, it's not surprising that Mary would describe tennis as a job, not a game. Finally, she switched to a less overbearing coach. Able to relax a little on the court, Mary found that her game improved. Within a year and a half, she'd moved up from No. 12 to No. 6 in the rankings.
Part of growing up, it seems, means figuring out that your parents don't have all the answers, even if they think they do.
In a wonderful episode from The Wonder Years, the television series about a baby boomer nostalgically reliving his years of innocence, 12-year-old Kevin Arnold goes to work with his father one day. The encounter turns into an important "coming-of-age" experience.
Dressed in matching suits and ties, the two male Arnolds are greeted by a. small staff of fawning servants who pinch Kevin's cheeks and ask him what he wants to be when he grows up. Inside his father's office, Kevin is astounded and impressed by the "grown-up toys" he sees everywhere-but especially his father's Big Desk and Giant Chair.
His father is immediately bombarded with emergency phone calls and people crises. As he adroitly handles them one by one, Kevin leans back in the Giant Chair and props his feet up on the Big Desk, watching the action and fantasizing about "how great it must be to have power."
A moment of father-son intimacy ensues a few minutes later when, in the cafeteria, Kevin asks his father: "Did you always want to be the Manager of Distribution Support and Product Services?" His father laughs, telling his son, "When I was your age, I wanted to be captain of a big ship with a big mast. Be on the ocean. Navigate by the stars."
When asked what happened to his dream, Mr. Arnold describes how he generally settled into adult responsibilities. He claims no regrets about the lost dream. "You can't do every silly thing you want in life," he says.
Back at the office, Kevin's dad is accosted by his boss, who chews him out for not taking his phone calls. As Kevin looks on, the Big Boss threatens to fire his father if he ever makes that mistake again. Mr. Arnold never says a word in his own defense.
Later that night, father and son stand outside gazing up-ward at the stars, pondering the day's events. As his father searches the sky for Polaris, Kevin realizes that he, too, has lost something. His father doesn't scare him anymore.
The road to adulthood is paved with renunciation. To grow, we must give up certain illusions. It may be hard to accept that your parents don't have all the answers. Coming to that awareness, however, is a crucial part of the transition into "emotional adulthood." Another element is learning to trust your gut and take responsibility for your own feelings and choices.
Actually, the real problem with parents who foist their personal preferences onto their children isn't so much whether the parent is right or wrong-but that the parent is taking over a decision that isn't theirs to make. As a child, you may not be free to choose, but as an adult, you are.
