Reading the story, I wonder about whether the lessons taught in your sophomore year were positive. First, the coach sent the message that talent and size matter more than attitude. In a world in which Americans tend to credit success on outside factors and where most of our Asian counterparts believe success comes from hard work, I would have preferred if your hard work was recognized by allowing you to participate in a meaningful part of the game. Further, by not playing a hustling, albeit poor player, the message sent is that winning is more important than playing hard. (Perhaps reasonable for professional ball but hardly for the C team in high school.)
Finally, the coach, by allowing you to play for a total of less than two minutes in a season and 8 seconds in a game so you could earn a varsity letter, was gaming the system unethically. He was following the letter of the law--you play in 12 quarters, you get a letter--rather than the spirit, serious contributors earn a letter.
The most upbeat part of the tale (other than you working your way to starter) was that the school recognized that sports is about involvement and provided so many teams. Let everyone play, not just the most talented.

I came to this page expecting to disagree with Dave's letter, having seen a small portion of it in the e-mail. It turns out after reading the commentary and Dave's full response that I think he actually has a point.

Sometimes we do not like the system -- in our own wisdom, we feel it is unfair and thus unworkable. Often faced with a system WE FEEL is unfair, we start to manipulate and "work the system" to our advantage. However, no matter how difficult the hand we have been dealt is, we need to still play by the rules. Also, as Dave says, not only the letter of the law, but the spirit of it, too!

Having said all that, much as I agree that sports are a valuable and indispensable part of education, I do feel it should not be magnified in its importance to the extent that people need some letter (sorry, I am not American and do not understand this terminology, but I think I understand the gist) for university.

As a teacher, I believe positive experience in participation in sports is not only important for a child's physical development, but their emotional and intellectual development, too.

As a little boy, I had "two right feet" (you guessed it -- I am a lefty) and thus, though I wanted to be part of it, I was soon sidelined, first by over ambitious sports masters and then, taking their cue, by my peers. As it was a requirement that every student participate in some sporting activity, I eventually found my "sporting home" in what was disparagingly called "social volleyball." What it might as well have been called was "rejects."

Not only should children participate in sports, but they must be made to feel it is worthwhile. The emphasis for MOST kids should not be on the performance (apart from the obvious expectation that they must play to the best of their ability) but more on the value of the exercise gained and the fun of participating.

Children must not be made to feel they have to be the best at whatever sport it is to participate, and they should know that losing games/matches does not constitute failure.

I was born in 1933 in Germany of a working class family. My older brother was born in 1930. We lived with mom's parents, the best any kid could wish for.
We had no toys but found something to read. If any boy on our street had a ball, any size, he was the king. We played soccer every day in the street or a nearby sand lot, barefoot. There were few cars in those days, so it was safe. Rain did not stop us as we only wore shorts. This was in in the summer months. There were no sports in school. The winters in East Prussia were rather hard.
Playing barefoot taught me to kick the ball correctly. Often I would spend hours alone kicking a ball against a house wall, trapping and heading, emulating the older players.
When my older brother and his friends went to a park to play soccer he always took me along. I was a small boy but quick, fast and could run all day.
My first soccer practice was held in a gym conducted by a wounded soldier with a steel plate in his head. Wanting to impress him, I ran all over the floor when I heard the whistle. He called me over, smiled and said: you can't be everywhere, use your head and stay on one side. I never forgot these words.
After the war, we had been relocated to a village in then East Germany. Again soccer every day. We started to play against other village kids and I improved my soccer skills.
Then came the big escape to West Germany in 1948. I got to know the neighborhood boys and the first question was: do you play soccer. The boys had arranged a game against the boys in the next neigborhood and I was invited. I had no boots, so one boy got a pair for me two sizes larger. We played in a sand pit and got creamed big time. After the game a boy from the other team asked me if I had signed with their club team. I said no and he said come to our club, you are better than those guys. So I did.
Then the real soccer began. Practice with a real coach, an older retired player, and the Sunday morning club games.
Next to the skill practice, the tactics training began.
We were not allowed to talk back to the referee, blame a teammate for a mistake but to help out instead. There was no substitution in those days. We were never told you must win, but to give it all. No unqualified parents hollered or confused us from the sidelines. There was no bragging or other crap going on.
I remember lost games, but I knew I had given all and accepted the fact that the other team was better. I remember games we won big and was not happy because I did not to have to put out.
I advanced to a level where I got a few games with the first team in the second division in Germany. I had most of the tools to possibly make it in the first division. I was of small stature, and most of all lacked self confidence. Unfortunately there was no coaching for this shortcoming. I continued to play soccer in Canada and here in California until I turned 38.
I have nothing but very good memories. Soccer kept me fit, I learned to accept defeat and to try harder the next time. It helped form my character.
I am one blessed old man now.