Coach Blew

I coached for over 20 years and in that time I worked with teams in basketball from 5th grade through junior college and softball from 7-9 year olds and 14-18 year olds (who were pretty much the same maturity level as the 7-9 year olds, no, come to think about it, the 7-9 year olds may have been more mature). I really do miss it at times. Coaching really changed in those 20 years. By the time I hung up my whistle (and can I note that I used the same whistle all those years too) it had become more like babysitting than educating and building skills. I did not care for babysitting when I was 13, and most definitely didn't care for it in my 30's. In all those years though, there are very few negative memories and tons of positive ones. I often think I learned more from the kids than they may have learned from me. I continually find life lessons that I can look back at my teams and find better insight.

For being a basketball coach at heart, I loved the 9 years of softball I did in Charleston. I coached the minor league girls and stayed in the same league all 9 years. This was not the norm. Most coaches had kids on the teams and would then move between leagues as their kids got older or as younger ones started playing. I had the greatest kids through the years. It is hard to believe that some of the kids from my first year are now married and have kids of their own.

The best part was not so much teaching them about the game, that came along each year as the season progressed, it was teaching them about life and giving them a little hope. I didn't care if they could hit that ball or not, for each time they got up to the plate they were heroes in my eyes and they knew it.

Sometimes what you see as a coach parallels real life. There are times where you will work with a kid on a skill, for example hitting. From scratch, you show them how to hold the bat, how to swing with the proper mechanics, and more. Soon they are hitting the ball with ease and they just glow with pride. Then one day they start struggling with it. They miss what was always easy for them to hit. It's not a mechanics problem, their stance is correct, their swing is spot on. They are simply struggling. Soon, when you ask them to line up to hit, that person has worked their way to the back of the line and eventually just doesn't want to hit at all. They would rather not play than to let the coach, who worked with them so much, see them struggle at something they were doing good at. As a coach, I saw this quite a bit in this age group.

So, as coach, I would take them out to the plate, hand them a bat, and hold the ball in the palm of my hand in front of them and tell them to hit it out of my hand. After a little encouragement and assuring them that they would not hurt me they would finally square up and swing. They would hit the ball right up the middle of the field. Their eyes would brighten and they would get a look of amazement on their faces. I would them pick them up and twirl them around a few times, hootin' and hollerin'. I'd make sure they knew that if they never hit another ball, I didn't care. They were still one of my kids and still special to me, and I wanted them to come play and just have fun. Sometimes it fixed the issue, sometimes it didn't. The next game, though, they were more than willing to get back up to bat.

It is hard when someone takes time to teach and guide you in something and you get a good grasp on it, you are doing well with it, and then you start struggling for one reason or another. It doesn't matter if it is something big or small, it is difficult to go and face that person - coach, teacher, friend, etc. You keep thinking, if I can just get this figured out before I have to see them again, they will never know. You are afraid of things like them being disappointed in you or that they may think they wasted their time with you. And since you cannot guarantee that they won't react that way, you become very hesitant. I am not sure which sucks more - struggling alone or admitting that you are struggling with something you know you are capable of doing. Sometimes I think the line between dignity and pride gets blurred.

Now, it rationally makes sense to go and keep working with the person who taught you the skill. I mean, they have the knowledge, they can most likely help you get things back on track. Nine chances out of 10 they are not going to eat you alive for struggling. How you perceive they are going to react is most likely 180 degrees from how it would actually go. It's not fun though when you have been hitting the winning shots and now you can't even get the ball to the rim.

So you shoot, and shoot, and shoot, and shoot some more. You lay in bed and shoot toward the ceiling. You sleep with your ball in hopes that you might magically convince it to just go into the basket on its own power. The next practice or game is right around the corner and you feel you have to have be back on top of things or decide if you are going to come down with some mysterious illness and not be in attendance. It's a tough call to make.

My problem is that I have been on both sides of this one too many times. As much as I have been in the "athlete" role, I have spent a fair share of time in the "coach" role too. What does that mean? For every person that thinks the coach (friend, teacher, etc) has no clue that you are struggling, we do. We know. Most times we are quite impressed with your skill to try and not let us know. Understand though, we know. Sometimes we will respect your decisions and wait around to see what you choose to do, other times we are going to come hunt you down and confront you. We have that right, it is part of our role. Just know this.

I didn't become a coach to teach mechanics of basketball and softball. Oh yes, I can do that, very well. I can even teach you how to shoot baskets backwards and how to hit a ball with your eyes closed just by listening, that isn't why I do it though.

I became a coach because kids need someone they can trust and turn to and be given chances to be all they can be. They need someone who can see the potential they can't see and put them in the situations to bring it out. They need someone, who at the end of the day looks at them, regardless of their talent, and tells them, "I believe in you." My coach did and it made more of an impact on my life than he will ever know. He is still one my heroes to this day.

At the moment, though, I toss a coin in the air to decide what role I am playing. What are the bets of it landing on its side?