If only I had vision, I would have bought stock in some company manufacturing anything that holds or displays athletic awards. Because even years ago the writing was on the wall that ten-year-olds from Trophy Club, TX [1] to Silver City, CA [2] would be assembling piles of competition-based bling, and they would need some way to store it.
See, nowadays, kids are generously re/awarded for nearly anything — just look at inflationary tooth fairy [3] rates. This is nowhere truer than in the world of youth sports, where kids get tangible representations of almost every moment spent on a field or in a gym.
A few years in the future, a young man stares with disgust at a little disk hanging around his neck. “When I was nine, I won a tournament with three other nine-year-olds, and I got a battery-powered, three-foot tall, jewel-encrusted trophy declaring me king of the world,” he accuses, tears welling up in recognition of the big lie. “I just won gold in the Olympics, and this [4] is all I get?
Long before they even have to remember a locker combination, many kids who have participated in the most rudimentary athletic adventures [5] have vast holdings — ah, back to my failed dream of stock riches — of glittery, marble-based tributes to their feats.
I think adults should get in on this.
You get to work on time on a quasi-regular basis? Trophy. Topped with Hercules [6], the god of perseverance.
You try really hard at work? Three-foot trophy, adorned with golden wings and embossed with gritted teeth, symbolic of your determination.
You plant some grass seed, even if all the grass dies anyway because you forgot to water it [7]? Medal with a spinning tractor.
Paid your taxes on time for a few years? Participation award, with etched language remarking on astounding civic responsibility.
No arguments this year with neighbors about unraked leaves or yapping dogs? Plaque featuring two shaking hands.
Didn’t drive through any red lights lately? Bobble head of smiling police officer on motorcycle.
You get a pile of certificates for all other accomplishments. These certificates will be on thick paper and feature colorful borders, a big gold sticker, inflated diction, and a signature line. We can create a political office for the purpose of getting these things signed.
Adults need to be part of the award phenomenon because, after all, without these concrete representations of our deeds what are we really?: Just a bunch of intrinsically motivated suckers, bumbling through life for the rewards of the now, of the journey, seeking some vacuous sense of fulfillment?
We might wonder, future scoffed-at Olympic medals aside, what these badged and festooned nine-year-olds are going to have to look forward to, but we can’t blame them. This is what they expect.
Last year, I was awaiting notice that I had received tenure at my university. Look, in my line of work, tenure is a really big deal. At last, I received notice of a certified letter at the post office. I knew this letter announced officially that I received tenure and promotion (or that I was getting fired). I happened to pick up the letter with my sister-in-law and her eight-year-old daughter. After I signed for the letter, I ripped it open and, on impulse, read it out loud to the two of them, filling the car with its rich, congratulatory, formal language (I was not getting fired). I turned around to my niece and said, “Well, what do you think about that?”
She looked at me, wide-eyed, processing, and said, “Are you getting a trophy?”
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[10]Scott Warnock [11]
[10]Latest posts by Scott Warnock (Posts [12])
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