How much Little League Dad is too much?

So now we know that Shedeur Sanders, son of Pro Football Hall of Famer and football celebrity Deion “Coach Prime/PrimeTime” Sanders, was drafted by the Cleveland Browns as the 144th pick of the draft. But Shedeur was supposed to be drafted in Round 1. His perceived-arrogance/perceived-nonchalantness/perceived-entitlement was the biggest story pre-draft, and his precipitous slide down draft boards is the biggest story in recent sports. It’s still an obsession in lots of sports talk.

A paragraph on Shedeur Sanders: He’s a pretty good quarterback, with a pretty good (not great) arm, pretty good (not great) size, and not great speed or explosiveness. He is incredibly tough—as evidenced by the punishment he took this season. He was one of the best players on a pretty good (not great) Colorado squad this year where he became famous for throwing touchdown passes to the best player in college football (Travis Hunter) and waving his gold watch in front of some opposing fans in a move that became akin to Tebowing in which people now sort of hold up their forearms and wave them around as though they’re showing off their own hypothetical gold watches.

A paragraph on Deion Sanders: He is currently the head coach at the University of Colorado, and he has put that particular moribund program back on the proverbial map by being the single biggest celebrity in college football. He has coached his son since his son’s pee-wee football days. He is the greatest lockdown/cover cornerback in NFL history and was also a dual-threat offensive player (wide receiver) and one of the greatest punt returners of all time. He is also the most prolific and famous Little League Dad of all time. Let me explain.

A paragraph on Little League Dads: full-disclosure, I was one, and I’m not proud of it. We stand along practice or game-field fences in our sweatsuits and critique what other coaches are doing. We often coach our kids. We often let our own undealt-with hyper-competitiveness lead to sin, and we often let it ruin our kids’ experiences with their various sports and with various people in their sports. I regret being this way. I have ghostwritten books (or almost ghostwritten books) for famous quarterbacks whose names you would for sure recognize, who had hyper-competitive, hyper-involved Little League Dads who were (to say the least) extremely difficult to deal with while also being Christians. Deion Sanders is perhaps the highest profile example of this character who has ever existed.

The good: He clearly loves his son and has been very involved in his son’s life. These are both good things. Sanders—say what you want about said faith—has been very open about his faith in God.

The neutral/confusing: He (Deion) doesn’t talk about his faith in the same ways that I would talk about my faith, which may not be a bad thing at all. Perhaps this is only confusing for me because he also talks about said faith while being literally draped in his millions of dollars and clothing emblazoned with his personal brand. Again, this is not necessarily bad, it’s just … complicated.

The bad: The Browns, by drafting Shedeur Sanders, also drafted the circus that will come to town with him. By circus I mean media availability every day around Shedeur’s locker, media questions to his dad every day (about him) at his dad’s media availabilities, and an outsized degree of focus/attention on a player who will probably start his career as a backup quarterback. To be fair, this was the selfsame circus that followed the most famous evangelical of my lifetime, Tim Tebow. The question is, is the player worth the circus?

“Draft night will be legendary,” says Shedeur Sanders, on the NFL Network commercial that ran roughly 200 times in 72 hours. It’s a sad bit of on-the-nose irony. It was legendary, but not in the way he hoped.

Perhaps Deion Sanders has just done what all of us who have Little League Dad tendencies would have done had we all been Hall of Famers with unlimited financial resources. We would have probably used our money and influence to completely mold and shape our sons’ experiences, in ways that wouldn’t have been healthy or edifying for father or son.

“This is a very, very difficult time for this young man,” says NFL Network talking head Charles Davis, in hushed tones. I mean, yeah, it was a bad day at work, in front of the whole world. And that is difficult. But nobody died. And Shedeur has his NIL millions, his dad’s millions, and a whole bunch of other resources to fall back on. He was drafted by a real team, and he has a real shot. It’s still a good day.

And God is still sovereign, God is still good, and God still works in the lives of His children. And if He’s using these circumstances for the sanctification of His children, these are unqualified goods. Even if they’re hard for Little League Dads.