My family and I went to the National Western Stock Show and watched the rodeo. An entertaining part of the event is the “Mutton-Bustin'” contest.
This is where fifteen little kids, ages five or six, are loaded onto the back of big fuzzy sheep and hang on for dear-life as the frightened animals head for the other end of the arena. Most kids fall off after about 20 feet. The winner this time held on for what seemed to be about fifty feet. The contestants are chosen by lottery from among hundreds of submissions.
But here’s the thing . . .
Everyone, and I mean every single one of these kids, got a trophy. The trophies themselves were taller than the contestants and more elaborate than the average high school or college award. By the bewildered looks on the kids’ faces, one could tell that most of them had no idea what they’d done.
I have no doubt that every one of those trophies is now prominently displayed in the homes of these contestants and probably will be for a long, long time. Their moms and dads have taken hundreds of digital pictures that are now posted on Facebook describing the accomplishments of these young “athletes.”
At the risk of sounding like a killjoy, there’s a pretty good chance that this the largest trophy any of them will ever receive. That just the reality of life. But what kind of expectation is this fostering among impressionable youngsters who will have to face the challenges of growing up and matriculating into the world around them.
I think the mutton-bustin contest is a great idea. It is a rodeo tradition, entertaining for the crowd and serves as a fun way to introduce city kids to livestock and agriculture. But do we really need to reward them with a trophy that size for simply being in the right place at the right time?