Help, My Daughter Loves DUDE PERFECT!

My eight-year-old daughter, Grace, recently discovered the rabbit hole known as YouTube.  My wife and I let her access the kid's version and, like any of us, my kid now gets sucked into the stupefying array of videos available.  Some of the channels (watching others play with Barbies) are inane.  Some (cake-making tutorials or instructions for DIY fidget spinners) have inspired her to create.  Then there's Dude Perfect.  I discovered Dude Perfect when I heard a bunch of shouting coming from the television.  Dude Perfect, in case you are unfamiliar with the internet stars billing themselves as Five Best Friends and a Panda, are athletic trick shot artists (and a guy in a panda costume).  They film themselves making impossible golf and basketball shots, attempting to set Guinness records, and many more feats of athletic prowess.   The shouting I heard was from the elaborate, high-volume, theatrical celebrations of pulling off their latest stunt.  Lots of fist pumps and chest bumps.  Lots of mesh shorts and perfectly manicured beards.  More shouted Woooos than a Flair family reunion.  Quite the Bro-fest.  It seemed like some weird witch's brew of sports, party games, and Nickelodeon's Double Dare.  A Jackass for the G-rated set.

I quickly dismissed these Frat House Olympians as more self-promoting internet blowhards.  If Grace wants to check out blatant internet cries for attention, she can read this blog.  If she wants to witness a bunch of young, testosterone-fueled wannabe superstars trash talking each other, I can drop her at the intramural fields at the local university.  These millennial jocksniffers weren't going to poison my little girl's brain with their antics.  And, what's the deal with that panda?

I watched for a few minutes with the intention of making Grace change the channel when the current video was over.  Then I realized something between all the Bro Slo Mo and high-fives: these guys are awesome.  It's amazing what can happen when you don't judge a book by it's backwards ball cap.  The men of  Dude Perfect are actually living the dream.    These five guys have made an industry of screwing around on the playing field.  They are paid handsomely to hang out and do the goofy stuff my friends and I would putter around with after an afternoon of pick-up basketball or street hockey.  (Remember rollerbasketball or shopping cart races, fellas?) This is Letterman having pro QBs throwing footballs into the windows of moving taxis.  This is MJ and Larry shooting for Big Macs. These dudes have turned the playground challenge, "I bet you can't do this", into a full-time job.  Not only that, but after only a few minutes of actually watching, I figured out these guys are positive influences.  The trash talk is lighthearted, not mean-spirited.  The overzealous, borderline silly celebrations are just that - celebrations of a buddy's success.  Sure, there is a bit of "rah-rah, look at me", but it is all done with a wink.   They encourage and root for each other.  Plus, there is a lesson in perseverance.  I explained to Grace how many takes are probably required to nail the perfect shot or catch.  Not to mention the practice involved to be athletic enough to pull them off.  I would much rather Grace watch Dude Perfect than the rude children on most tween shows.  (I'm looking at you Jessie and Henry Danger.)  We've even started planning what events we could play at a Dude Perfect kid birthday party.  So, I apologize Dude Perfect.  Keep duding what you are duding.  And if you need an Old Dude, I'm ready to turn my ball cap backwards.