High school athletes, parents, coaches seek balance

Parents are becoming more involved than ever in their children’s sports careers, with the growing number of offseason opportunities and push to get a scholarship.

Social media gives parents a platform they didn’t previously have, while more information is available instantly.

Here are stories from Arizona athletes, parents and coaches on their experience.

RELATED: Blurred lines: Are parents getting too involved in high school sports?

Letting go

Luke Neal wonders where his son, Davonte’, would be today had Davonte' remained connected with his father after he left high school, went to Notre Dame, became a father, returned to Arizona, joined the Wildcats’ football team in Tucson and changed positions from receiver to cornerback.

A personal trainer who works with high school and college athletes with their speed and conditioning, Luke pushed his son hard well before he got to high school in 2008, challenging him to set records on the “Thrill Hill” mountain run next to a park in Ahwatukee.

An all-league receiver and defensive back as a freshman at Laveen Cesar Chavez, Davonte' embraced the workouts with a dynamic motor and ended his high school football career at Scottsdale Chaparral as a two-time Gatorade Arizona Player of the Year with two state championships.

But Davonte’, who did not respond to a message for this story, lasted one season at Notre Dame, where he fielded punts and rarely saw the field as a receiver.

He transferred to UA, where he had to sit out a year, before restarting a career that has yet to take off. This will be his last season with the Wildcats, his last chance to make an impact and show NFL scouts and coaches he can draw a big payday.

Luke no longer has the connection he had while Davonte’ was in high school, leading him up the hill with relentless passion.

“I look at it this way – as a parent, you try to do the best for your child,” Luke said. “You lead them based on the mistakes you made. You can guide them and show them. It may be viewed as forcing. But I don’t view it as forcing, but, ‘Hey, these were my mistakes, let me guide you and show the best path.’

“Sometimes, they rebel and don’t do it. You watch them succeed and fail. They have to learn how to fail and how to be a man about it and treated like a man. He’s got to find his way on his own. I think he’s had a harsh lesson of people that are around you. … I say me being hands off impacted things. I wouldn’t be able to tell him up front about it.”

UA tight ends coach and recruiter Charlie Ragle coached Neal in his final two years as head coach at Chaparral in 2010 and ’11.

Neal’s transfer from Cesar Chavez after his sophomore year drew scrutiny like no other transfer since then. It could have ruffled the Chaparral boosters who poured money into the program with sons battling for playing time.

“When Davonte’ Neal transferred in, that was probably one of the biggest transfers the state had seen,” Ragle said. “With that is backlash. What settled a lot of that was that he was one of the hardest workers on the football team. He’s working harder than anybody else. He gained respect from his teammates.

“He was the best player on the team. He was one of the hardest workers. And he was coachable. To be honest, that’s a perfect storm. Then, you don’t have to deal with those helicopter parents.”

Nobody is pulling for Davonte’ more than Ragle.

Finding balance

Before she became one of six finalists for the Gatorade National Female Athlete of the Year this summer, former Phoenix Xavier Prep volleyball star Khalia Lanier, now starting her first year at USC, felt the stress of living up to her father, former NBA center Bob Lanier, who carved out a Basketball Hall of Fame career.

“I definitely am my own worst enemy when it comes to life,” Khalia said. “I put stress on myself with school and volleyball.”

She would lean mostly on her mom, Rose, who would shuttle her around between countless high school and club volleyball practices, games and tournaments. Bob wasn’t as home as much, working for the NBA in New York.

But Khalia could always go to him for “words of wisdom.”

“He was very wise about everything,” she said. “The things he would say, words he would make up, they would stick. Like, instead of saying, ‘extraordinary,’ he’d say, ‘astressaordiary.’ That I was making it too stressful than I should.”

Rose was the buffer in the household.

Khalia would unload her worries on her mom, sometimes telling her that she was done with the sport, that she was quitting, that between school and travel volleyball it was too overwhelming.

“I told her, ‘Any time you need to put a load on me, just put it on,’ ” Rose said. “She’s harder on herself than anybody else. Coaches become second parents to these girls. She had a very grueling high school, academically. It was tough to get through. I’d stay up with her with her homework and make sure she didn’t fall asleep.

“I always stressed to Khalia, ‘What people always say to you – "You’re so humble" – you should stay that way. Be grateful.' She never felt she was the best she could be. It made her work harder."

Once Khalia got away from basketball, it helped her through high school. The pressure lessened, because, as Rose said, Bob “didn’t know anything about volleyball.”

“He’s tough, but he’s been there,” Rose said. “They would have their moments. I’d tell her, ‘If anyone can tell you anything, it is him. He’s gone through the same thing.’ Kids don’t want to hear what parents have to say at that point. I’m on the same page with Bob but helping her get through it.

“I told her with volleyball, ‘You made a name for yourself on your own. You didn’t ride his coattails.’ ”

The Laniers are an example of how to let your child succeed and fall, how to encourage and build by listening.

“I always lean on my mom,” Khalia said. “If I’m having a breakdown, she’d say, ‘You have to stick it through. I won’t let you quit. I believe in you.’ I don’t think I could have gone through it without them.”

An anomaly?

In January 2014, late in the first half of a girls basketball game, then Mesa Dobson girls basketball coach Tyler Dumas suddenly became the target of an irate parent's tirade.

According to a report, Dobson trailing by nine points, a Gilbert Mesquite parent yelled obscenities and came down to the floor and pushed Dumas in the chest. More fans came onto the court. Police got involved. The parent was escorted out of the gym. No arrests were made. But fans were asked to leave and only a few spectators saw the finish, a Mesquite win over the then No. 2-ranked team in the state.

“He said something to me — I can’t repeat it because there was only about one word that we don’t have to bleep out — but he was upset about the way that the game was being played, and I don’t really know. When he hit me in the chest, I was like, ‘Yeah, I don’t know if you really know what you just did,’ ” Dumas told azcentral sports after that game.

Today, Dumas, now an assistant principal at Dobson, said that he would hope that incident was "an anomaly."

"I'd think our incident was outside the box," Dumas said. "I would also hope that consequences that the AIA hands down would deter parents from making the same decision."

Dumas retired from coaching the following season, after leading his girls to the state championship. He said the incident didn't cause him to walk away. He had been transitioning into being an administrator before that.

But the on-court incident, he said, did cause him to reflect quite a bit on parental involvement in youth sports.

His called his Dobson parents "outstanding."

"Coaches have to find parents that are trying to serve all players and the program," he said. "As a coach, I found it essential to communicate with the parents that their participation in fundraising was in benefit of the program and not in the playing time or treatment of their child. If I couldn't be sure that parents could walk that line, I would fulfill those roles rather than involve parents that I couldn't ascertain their motives.

"I also think that not being a club coach or associated with a club probably helped with my parents. There seems to be a difference in parental involvement and norms at the club level than the high school level."

Expenses hardship

Jeff Becker, who heads Powerhouse Hoops, a club basketball program in the Valley, caters to all sorts of parents in three ages groups (15s, 16s, 17s), trying to balance their demands and concerns. Only a handful of players are on scholarship, meaning parents don't have to pay for travel expenses to July showcases.

Becker says he has a code of conduct, expectations, that they have to sign. He also encourages parents to be proactive. He pointed out that Tempe Corona del Sol senior guard Saben Lee, who recently committed to Vanderbilt, has used a scouting service to help with his recruiting before it blew up with strong performances in front of college coaches last year.

“It is hard,” Becker said. “They bring up finances, and I totally get it. They put a financial commitment in there.

“In a way, we want to under-promote and over-deliver. Club has gotten a bad rap. Are they in it for the money or the best interest of the child? As long as you can show you’re passionate about the development of a young man and woman, that’s the most important thing.”

Value of team sports

Four years ago, Peoria Liberty boys basketball coach Mark Wood decided instead of fighting the helicopter parent, he would transition with them and find ways to become a better coach to try to keep his program from getting fractured.

He had a library full of books on dealing with the over-zealous parent.

Wood speaks to youth sports organizations regarding the purpose of sports. He said he has seen too many people being used by sports instead of using sports to learn valuable things, being part of something bigger than themselves.

He feels too often “sports are using them and spitting them out in the form or broken relationships, bitter experiences, loss of self-esteem.”

“It’s a microwave culture,” Wood said. “My job is not to make him happy. My job is to put the best team on the floor.”

A sense of entitlement comes when large amounts of money are invested.

Wood pays $1,200 a month for his two daughters to dance. This isn't to get them to Carnegie Hall.

“I’m not paying for a college scholarship,” Wood said. “I’m paying so they’re not at the mall. I’m paying so they’re learning that there are things bigger than themselves, that they’re not going to be young narcissists. I’m paying for work ethic, for discipline. I’m not paying for their happiness. They need to be joyful when they’re in that. That’s my job to provide for that.”

Paul Moro said he was fortunate not to have meddlesome parents during his 30-year tenure as head football coach at Lakeside Blue Ridge, where he won 13 small-schools state championships, before moving on to Poston Butte for two years and now transitioning to Tempe Marcos de Niza this year.

“What became nice was the parents trusted me,” Moro said. “The incoming parents were not sure, but the other parents would go, ‘No, you need to trust him. He will do what’s right for your kid. I didn’t have a lot of overbearing parents.’ "

On preseason Parents Night, Liberty’s Wood says he doesn’t talk boundaries. He interviews the seniors, who in turn teach the parents what is wanted from them. Effort and joy, unconditional love and support are promoted.

He feels giving kids autonomy over their sport keeps them from getting burned out. He preaches playing freely, loosely and not expecting several voices screaming at them at once.

Liberty went 10-16 last season, but he said, “Our attendance was perfect all year.”

“It’s a place where he is going to be loved,” Wood said. “We’re not here to crush your spirit. Mistakes are OK.”

Wood said his current wave of parents has never been healthier.

“They’ve gotten behind our vision,” he said. “They’ve seen value in it. That’s important.”

One of parent who got behind it is Phoenix South Mountain Principal Brian Guliford, who followed his football-famous brother, Eric, at Peoria High in the 1980s. Brian wasn’t as talented as his brother, who went on to become a standout wide receiver at Arizona State and played in the NFL with the Minnesota Vikings.

Brian said his conversations with his dad were different from what Eric had. But those rides home helped shape him as the parent he is now to Quentin, a 6-foot-3 junior guard at Liberty.

“When you look at the growth-mindset sort of mentality, it’s when he fails the greatest amount of growth occurs,” Brian said. “We really want to tap into those experiences and come to those conclusions on his own. It’s going to affect his growth.”

Quentin doesn’t feel he is playing for his dad or uncle.

“They’ve allowed me to grow within myself,” he said. “After a game, after a loss, some kids are down because they have their parents beating on them. When I get in the car after a loss, my dad or my uncle or my coach, they’re flexible and I can pick their brain about anything that I can do better.”

Usually, Brian keeps the car radio on when he takes his son home from a game and it take their minds off the game. And Quentin says he stays on the “low key” on social media, “because I know I can always do better.”

“We’ll turn on sports talk radio and get lost,” Brian said.

Because there is no pressure, Quentin’s growth has shown this summer, Wood observed.

“His family has brought him up to know that his identity is not found in sport,” Wood said. “His performance is not his identity. He is who he is and it will shine in every aspect of life.”

The parent’s role

Senior offensive lineman Taylor Skaff is thankful his dad, Kevin, gets out of the way from the football coaches at Cesar Chavez.

“He doesn’t try to be one of those parents,” he said. “He’s always looking out for me. A good parent always looks out for his son. He’s not always over my head making sure I’m not doing something or whatever. He trusts I get my stuff done.

“I’m trying to make money, make millions. If my dad is helping me to get there, then he’s helping me.”

Kevin Skaff, president of Cesar Chavez’s football booster club, said his role is simply to provide the necessary tools to help his son get through high school, to not fret over the lows and to learn from failing.

“If it benefits the kids, we’re going to go to the ends of the world to get them what they need,” Kevin said. “But I’m not a coach. I don’t know how to coach. That’s not my job.

“When it comes to what the kids need, the coaches are dealing with the game. I try to fulfill different areas. We’re there as a supplement, not to tell the coach how to do their job.”

Darrell Gill, a Chavez assistant under head coach Jim Rattay, played football for Frank Kush at Arizona State in the 1970s and coached youth football in the 1990s in Mesa.

His son ended up playing a big role on Phoenix Desert Vista’s first state championship team in 1998 under Rattay.

“I would worry about the peer pressure,” Gill said of his son.

Gill felt his main role as dad was to teach his son the value of loyalty and commitment.

He said he has seen several Chavez players over the years transfer to other schools after their freshman year.

Transfers are part of the landscape in every sport as much as coaches moving to other schools. They chase scholarships, instead of building team unity.

Parents want their kids’ college paid for, leading many to go to schools that have a tradition of finding colleges for them to continue their football careers.

It’s tough to build tradition at Chavez, where so many leave, Gill believes.

“They hop around and don’t know anything about tradition,” Gill said.

‘Why I have that work ethic’

Mike Bibby had his mom, Virginia, to guide him through high school in the 1990s. His father, Henry, a former UCLA and NBA guard, was not around. He was coaching at USC during Mike’s basketball playing career at Phoenix Shadow Mountain High.

Bibby emerged as arguably the greatest basketball player in Arizona high school history, leading the Matadors to their first state championship in 1996, before helping Arizona to a national championship as a freshman in 1997. Bibby ended up with a 14-year NBA career, and made sure his son, Michael, had what he needed to succeed.

There is a gym in their home. And it doesn’t go unused.

He takes tough direction from his dad. That has taken him to lead Shadow Mountain to state titles his sophomore and senior seasons.

“I knew where he was coming from when he pushed me,” Michael said of his dad. “I know he knows what he’s talking about.”

Now, Mike is trying to find the best college for his 6-foot-2 point guard son, azcentral sports’ Player of the Year, as he plays through July for the Utah Basketball Club in showcases.

“When I was young, I’d trash talk,” Mike said. “My mom said, ‘Shut up and play.’ I learned a lot of stuff from my mom. Just the drive aspect. She’d take me to places that I didn’t want to be. I wanted to hang out with my friends. I didn’t feel like I need to go work out. But she’d drag me there. I thank her to this day for that. It’s why I have that work ethic in me.

“I twisted my son’s arm a little, too. But he had a gym in his house. It’s a lot different from what I had growing up. No one can do it by themselves. The main thing is to be a good teammate. That’s what I tell him. When I was playing in the league, I was a good teammate, no matter what. I learned that from my Sacramento years.”

‘Getting out of the way’

Tucson Sabino football coach Jeff Scurran has seen the lines blurred by unreasonable expectations, feeling a combine score is their child’s golden ticket to the big time.

“I truly believe everything comes out in game film,” he said. “Coaches who are just looking at combine scores, they’re losing their jobs now. It’s getting back to guys who can make plays, who won’t cause grief off the field.

“When the lines get blurry, it can get confusing. They only see a slice of what really happened and draw a conclusion. Everyone should relax and wait and see how things play out.”

Coaches aren’t going to win over all parents, but Mesa boys basketball coach Shane Burcar felt that his team’s Division I championship last season without a Division I college player was due partly to parents who were there to support and not undercut.

It made the journey more enjoyable.

“You have to be a strong coach to handle the helicopter parent the proper way,” Burcar said. “The ability to communicate with the player and the team without bringing negative attention to the player or their parents is critical.

“As a coach, you must be able to take some unkind opinions or words. I have been fortunate at Mesa with the parents. Not perfect, but I can honestly say I have enjoyed all parents and players. We have not agreed on everything but we can have a healthy post-graduation relationship.”