It was a typical cold—snowy Wisconsin Friday in January. Following a day at school and a practice, my wife and I were rushing North on highway 51 toward Ashland. Nothing short of a ride on the Millennium Falcon would get me to the rink on time to see my son Theran suiting up for the Eagles of Minnesota-Crookston.

Having watched him play every high school game from my spot behind the bench, it was now difficult to miss so many games. He had a habit of scoring goals before I got to the rink and my highlight reel of past goals replayed in my head as my foot flirted with the speed limit.

Mercifully the road trip came to an end as my wife and I rushed into the Bay Area Civic Center. Sure enough, Crookston had taken a 1-0 lead. Keenly surveying the rink like a defenseman looking for an outlet pass, I noticed my son standing with a clipboard. It was quickly apparent that I had not missed one of his goals.

It didn’t take long to get the story, void of specific details as to why he wasn’t playing tonight. That lack of particulars, didn’t sit well with my wife who wanted an explanation. Her emotions now on the power play, she thought I should talk with his coach after the game to find out why. I quickly called my time-out and she quickly came to her senses.

My wife had just raised a question that was once an untouchable subject, but is now considered fair game by many. When is it ok to talk to the coach about playing time? Some believe this should be a subject open for vigorous debate. They are dead wrong.

As a parent that night in Ashland I knew going to the coach was not the answer. I had not been at practice or even in the same state. I had no idea if my son was working hard or skipping practice. It would be absurd for me to assume I knew more than the coach. It felt strange to be on the other side of that argument and for a moment I could understand the frustration parents often feel.

That emotion quickly passed. Bottom line, I knew this was no longer my business or my battle.

I am here to tell you that this subject should be as off limits to parents as alcohol at an AA meeting. Sometimes when parents don’t heed that advice their antics lead you to believe that alcohol was involved. It’s a subject as touchy as polar bears with Al Gore.

Playing time is a subjective decision based on data compiled at practice, at school, on the bus, during games and all the other hours’ coaches spend with their players. The experts tell us that parents now spend about 38 minutes a week talking to our kids. I have given post-game speeches longer than that.

The coach and his staff have always controlled playing time. Everyone on the team, plus your parents, the local priest and Barry Melrose himself can believe you should be getting more playing time, but it won’t matter. The head coach ultimately makes that call and he is the one mind you have to change. By you I mean you the player and nobody else.

Nothing gets a players attention faster than reduced playing time. A seat on the bench is pure motivational gold for every coach. It is also a lightning bolt that can touch off a forest fire of parental frenzy.

It is often a difficult time for athletes, but a time when the only answer lies within you. This is not the time to whine and complain to your teammates and parents, but maybe time to dig deeper and play harder. It might also be time for you to go talk to your coach. This is a situation that can only be resolved by those most intimately involved; the coach and the player. A few immature players still cling to their umbilical cord, but I find most are embarrassed by their parent’s constant interventions.

The question begs, when are you going to stop fighting your kids battles? Will you be calling their boss in ten years and demanding to know why they didn’t get a promotion?

Athletics can teach so many valuable life lessons, if we will just allow them to happen. Unfortunately, parents are now tied so closely to their children’s athletic experience that many of these lessons are vanquished by interfering parents. It’s time to ground the helicopter.

Discussing the topic of playing time with your son or daughter’s coach should be so far off the table that the dog has already eaten it. Imagine if a coach called your house to offer advice on what chores your child should be required and the discipline you should hand out if they don’t. You would be insulted and very possibly enraged. Coaches often feel the same way.

So when is it ok to call the coach about playing time? The same time it is ok to tell your wife, yes dear, those pants do make you look fat.

In both cases, you should get what you deserve, the cold shoulder.

Imagine the next time you have an off day at work, or you know what, maybe you think you did everything perfect that day and you just get home, and before you can eat supper or hug your kids, the phone rings and somebody wants to tell you how bad you are at your job and then wants to meet with you later to tell you again—in more detail.

Welcome to the life of today’s coach, where every decision you make is up for public debate and the call of the wild is just a ring away.

Thankfully most coaches have the character, common sense and Teflon exterior to deflect those few neurotic parents and their constant attempts to fix their kids lives. Twenty-five years ago the fear that your kid wouldn’t play if you called the coach was legitimate. If coaches acted on that premise today, as they are so often accused, it would likely get them fired. Like a lot of the Generation Y philosophies, the old system worked better.

So when the urge to call your kid’s coach to complain about something strikes—do something really wild, put the phone down, walk away and nobody gets hurt.

Dan Bauer is the head hockey coach at Wausau East High School. You can contact him at dbauer@wausau.k12.wi.us and read more of his work at www.hockeybybauer.com