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Excerpts from “Growing Up Colt” by Colt McCoy and Brad McCoy
Chapter 3: Getting with the Family Program
Brad:
We
believed that God designed the family and that children thrived best in an
atmosphere of genuine love, undergirded by reasonable, consistent discipline.
Debra
and I believed in spanking. Both of us had grown up with parents who meted out
corporal punishment when the occasion warranted. “Spare the rod and spoil the child” was their
guiding philosophy, and that became ours as Colt and the boys came along.
Now,
did we look for reasons to spank
Colt, just to make sure he learned discipline by the seat of the pants? Of
course not.
We
carefully considered the times when a spanking was appropriate because we
believed that, when properly applied, loving discipline works.
Debra
and I always believed that on those occasions when we spanked Colt, we were drawn
even closer to him – and he to us – because we comforted him in his tears. When the spanking was over, we reminded him
that we loved him and that we wanted him to grow up to become the best he could
be.
We
saw the benefits of loving discipline in Colt’s attitude.
Colt
didn’t get a lot of whuppings. The times
we had to discipline him were few and became rarer as he grew older.
Looking
back, Debra and I are glad we administered loving discipline early in Colt’s life because relatively
speaking, we sailed through his teen years.
You
see, I saw the results of a lack of parental discipline every day on the
practice field.
Players
broke team rules and school rules, so they were disciplined.
The
San Saba story is one reason I always felt discipline was important for my
football teams and for Colt and his
brothers.
Colt:
On
this spanking thing, Mom and Dad may say I didn’t get spanked that much, and
they’re probably right. But when you’re
a kid, it sure doesn’t seem that way. I
can remember both parents popping me on the bottom with a bare hand, Mom
spanking me with a wooden spoon, or Dad spanking em with a belt. If we were outside, Dad sometimes used a
switch.
Here’s
how I remember things: if I mouthed off
to Mom or showed disrespect, she’d warn me to watch it. After the second warning – not the third or
fourth – she’d march into the kitchen and grab the wooden spoon. And I’d get a couple of good whacks on the
behind.
I
soon learned that if I ever upset Mom to the point that she’d spank me, more
wrath was waiting for me when Dad got home.
Yes, I heard Mom say those dreaded words: “Wait until your father gets
home.” When I heard her say that, I knew
I was in big trouble, and those afternoons never passed more slowly.
Dad
would come home from practice, and after hearing Mom lay out the charges
against me, he’d ask me if they were true.
I knew resistance was futile.
After I confessed my misdeeds, Dad would take me into my bedroom and
spank me with the belt.
On
one occasion, just after I started attending the University of Texas, he and I
were asked to speak at a father-and-son gathering in Austin.
One
of the things Dad discussed with the fathers in the room was the value of
discipline and what it really means. Discipline is teaching. It’s correcting. It’s respect.
It’s all those things,” he said.
“Discipline is not going out there and beating your son whenever he does
something wrong. Sure, I disciplined
Colt, but I didn’t just put the belt
to him.”
I
raised my hand. “Hold on Dad. I want to show everyone a verse in the Bible
that you followed.” “If you brought your
Bible with you, turn to Proverbs 23:13.” I read it aloud: “Do not withhold
discipline from a child; if you punish them with the rod, they will not die.”
Everyone
in the crowd started laughing because they had caught on that my father wasn’t
the type to withhold discipline from me, and that meant he did discipline me with a belt.
At the same time, everyone in the audience could see that I had not
died.
I
laughed right along with them.
But
there was an occasion when I was spanked outside
the home, and it wasn’t any laughing matter.
It happened when I was in the fourth grade at Hamlin Elementary School,
where everyone knew each other.
My
fourth-grade trash talk set him [Matt] off. There was a push and a shove –
nothing beyond the usual roughhousing I did at home with my younger brothers –
but then Matt fell and screamed out in pain.
He had broken his finger. I don’t
recall who pushed him to the floor, but I do remember that there were lots of
tears. A couple of teachers broke up the
scuffle and demanded an explanation of what had happened.
Matt
and I were sent to the principal’s office, but I wondered why I had to go. It was Jimmy who had said that Matt couldn’t
see his new basketball shoes. I hadn’t
started anything.
At
least that’s how I saw things. But I
knew getting sent to the principal’s office was serious stuff, even if I was
innocent. I knew I would be in big
trouble one Dad and Mom found out I was sent to the principal’s office, guilty
or not. Colt, you’re going to get the hugest spanking, and then you’re going to
be grounded for life, I thought.
I
couldn’t believe my good luck. Since
nothing happened to me in the principal’s office, I wouldn’t have to take a
note home to Mom and Dad. Maybe I
wouldn’t be grounded for life after all.
We
drove home in silence. I tried to keep
my composure because I felt there was no way my father could know I was in the
principal’s office just an hour before.
When
we got home, Chance and Case were playing basketball in the backyard. I was about to go outside when I heard Dad
say, “Your mother and I would like to talk to you.”
Dad
and Mom drew the story out of me, and I told it in the way I have described it
in this chapter. They listened and then
Dad cleared his throat.
“Son,
we treat everybody the right way around here.
It doesn’t matter if you like Matt or not. You will treat him the right way, and you
will show everyone respect. That starts
with your teachers but also includes your friends and people who are not even
your friends. You will show everyone
respect.”
Mom
added her two cents, and then my father solemnly announced that I would be
punished for what happened. A spanking
with the belt.
Dad
whupped me pretty good that day, and I cried.
I
went to school the next day thinking it was all over, but as soon as I stepped
into the classroom, my teacher told me the principal wanted to see me in his
office again.
My
heart sank. What did I do this time?
I
soon found out.
The
principal was waiting for me in his office with a leather strap, and he
explained that I needed to be punished for my role in hurting Matt. He gave me several licks, and I cried again. Then he told me that I would have to
apologize to everybody in my class, tell them I was wrong to play favorites and
that in the future I would respect everyone the same.
By
the way, it wasn’t until years later that I learned Dad and the principal were
buddies and they both agreed that I would get some licks and home and at school. But they taught me a lesson that I would
never forget.
Brad
It
may sound like we were too hard on Colt that day, or even like we were abusing
him, but that’s far from the truth. The
fact is that Debra and I looked for those “teachable moments” that come up
every now and then when you’re raising children.
They
learned that there were consequences when they crossed that line. Sometimes it was the belt, but other times
they lost privileges.
Colt
By
the time I got to school, I thought “shut up” and “stupid” were bad words. I didn’t say them in the classroom, and I certainly
didn’t say them around Mom and Dad because if I did, I got my mouth washed out
with soap.
“Stick
out your tongue,” she’d say. I’d always
beg her not to do it, but she never backed down. Once I stuck out my tongue, she would rub a
wet bar of soap all across it. Then I could
wash out my mouth with water. The soap
tasted disgusting, and it made me angry the rest of the day.
