"Friday Night Tykes" Episode 4 Recap: A Reality TV Show is Not the Optimal Place to Physically Assault a 10-Year-Old
Kiss your mommas before you leave the house, ‘cause once you step on that field, you’re going to battle. #FridayNightTykes pic.twitter.com/t8lFat6vxx
— Friday Night Tykes (@tykes) February 6, 2017
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In my 11 years of youth football, I saw coaches calling 9-year-olds “pussies,” keep 25 kids out of a game while playing their own sons both directions for every snap, put a star player into a game even though he showed up at halftime in the wrong uni by taking the jersey off another kid’s back and putting it on him, and keep a kid in a game with a broken arm because they thought he was faking it. But to me, that’s just your garden-variety psychological abuse. I’ve only witnessed the actual physical stuff happen between coaches and parents. So this week’s “Friday Night Tykes” broke new ground for me:
*We begin by meeting Venom assistant Steven Cordova, a jowly, featureless, Zordon-like carbon blob who’s complaining that no one ever shows up for practice on time, which the kids aimlessly punch each other in the head. Head coach Corey Jefferson, who clearly fell an hour behind schedule as a teenager and never bothered to catch up, arrives just in time to scream in one player’s face that he’ll get benched if he doesn’t show more energy. The irony that it was more energy than Jefferson showed all year is lost on everyone.
*We then get a profile of Boobie Washington, star Venom player whose uncle is a coach. The uncle tells us Boobie’s had trouble in school, his mom is more like his “friend” than a parent, and watch him halfass his way around a punishment lap. And immediately we realize he’s got enough character issues to go on the Cincinnati Bengals’ 2027 draft board.
*The focus turns to Austin Steelers, who are to TYFA what the Enola Gay was to Hiroshima. “The Trophy Boys” are 53-3 with 43 shutouts and 3 state titles. And they tape practices with a drone. If foreshadowing is a thing in story telling, some team is in for a crippling ass-kicking.
*The Steelers have a core group who’ve been together since birth, anchored by LeTreveon McCutchin, who we’re told is a “beast” and teams get “steamrolled by him. Nothing you can do to stop it,” and Elijah Jackson, who is literally bigger than the grown men who coach him. If Tre and Eli left the field, walked into a bar and ordered drinks, they woudn’t get carded.
*Introducing the Warhawks, who appear to have the best coach/player names duo in the league with Ponch Bafidis and Tom Tom Cunningham. Coach Ponch tells us that they’re the team of “underprivileged” kids, which is probably on the Sociological Terms Endangered Words list, but no one seems to be triggered by it.
*The Warhawks meet the Jr. Rockets, coached by Joe Heath, who explains he did time for selling drugs and coaches his kids to obey all “authority figures” so they’ll come home alive. I’m assuming he means cops, not football coaches, so it’s all good. Later he gets admonished by team president Keith Dyson for using the word “whoopass,” which is kind of charming in a league where most coaches can’t finish a sentence until they’ve used at least one “motherfucker.” Anyway, Joe’s son Bubba loses a fumble on the end of a nice reverse and no sooner does he get to his feet than he says, “Now I ain’t gonna be able to go back in.” Something he repeats six times on the sidelines. Some football players come out of the womb not caring about the team and counting their touches. Add another name to your Big Board, Cincy.
*Now comes the huge matchup between the Steelers and Venom. Latreveon wastes no time catching a 58-yard touchdown and Elijah pancakes Boobie, who is reduced to tears as he screams “I can’t guard that dude!” The Steelers follow up the TD bomb with an onsides kick as Chris Davis, the undermining Dwight Shrute assistant to Corey’s Michael Scott, screams “Jesus Christ!!!” A minute later we find the Alpha Male at the concession stand, ordering a sausage wrap. A few botched snaps later and the Steelers are cruising, 24-0.
*Then, chaos. Chance Edwards of Venom is in tears and beginning to hyperventilate. A coach takes his helmet off, calmly gives him water, helps him get control of his breathing and literally carries him over to the bench and sits him down. A few minutes later, hell breaks loose. Steve Cordova is screaming “Get off my bench!” as women scream and fathers intervene. Apparently seeing a shaken youth football player drinking water from a sitting position was too much for the bloated human tick to bear. He told the kid to move. He didn’t. So he flipped the bench and Chance took a swing at him so he shoved the kid to the ground. Later Cordova’s wife Felicia explains to Davis that the player swung first, causing Steve “to lose his composure.” And for the first time in the season, Davis takes normal human form and calmly and rationally explains to this lunatic that this is a 10-year-old they’re talking about. I would’ve added that in pads, the kid weighs as much as her husband’s Shar Pei-like rolls of neck fat. But he takes the high road.
*In the bedlam that ensues, Venom manages to keep their composure enough to hang on for a 48-0 asskicking loss. The episode ends with a heartfelt and actually kind of brilliant commentary from Jefferson about how kids come to youth sports sometimes to escape bad situations, coaches are mentors and, for a few hours a week, surrogate parents. And they’re not there to put fear into kids. I’m not being snarky when I say it out to be turned into an oath that youth coaches should be sworn to uphold. At least a few of the micro-penised phony tough guys I coached with.
*Next week, the investigation into BenchGate. I can’t wait.