Coaching
Over the years, I’ve coached many of my kids’ sports teams. Here are a few observations: Everybody talks about how seriously kids — and especially their parents — take winning versus losing in sports. Unfortunately, this is largely true. And the most common casualty here is sportsmanship. I don’t succumb to this garbage, and I’m sure you don’t either.
In fact, I have kids “repeat after me” at the first day of practice:
“I
(their name)
promise that I will treat
my fellow players AND our opponents
with respect at all times during this season –
that I will win like a gentleman
and that I will lose like a gentleman.”
And it’s not that I don’t encourage the kids to play hard. There is no reason to act as if sports — or life more generally — is non-competitive, because that’s not true, and you’re serving no one by pretending otherwise. The American Youth Soccer Organization, AYSO, boasts 600,000 players and tens of thousands of volunteer coaches and referees. The emphasis is on fairness, balanced teams, and giving everyone an equal chance to play. It’s as close as you can get to a non-competitive spirit, yet everyone is trying his hardest to win, and it’s a great environment for kids.
One of the tricks in coaching in AYSO is to build a fun and supportive climate while working hard on developing skills that will win games. If you don’t succeed in helping each player improve at least one thing during each practice, they going to get killed in their games, and everybody will have a rotten time.
For those of you who have the opportunity to coach you kids in sports, I urge you to take it. It’s certainly been one of the highlights of my life. And here are two quick stories that I hope will begin to explain the reason I feel this way.
My son Jake was a considerable soccer powerhouse when he was little. In the first game of his under-8 season, he scored three goals in a 3-2 win over an opponent whose dominant player — Paul, as I remember — had scored both their goals. When we walked off the field, I asked Jake if he wanted to say something to Paul. As a coach and as a father, I was lucky enough to hear the brief but poignant conversation. Jake told they boy, who was taking the loss rather hard, “Hey. You’re a good player.” Paul smiled, bowed his head, and replied softly, “Thanks. But you’re better than I am.”
That’s warmth and humility.
Six years later, I coached Jake’s under-14 team — and, as you can imagine, observed a grossly different set of dynamics. Generally, adolescents are more concerned about looking cool than they are about warming up to others. I was lucky enough to have been assigned terrific young men, and when the regular season ended in December, we had the best record, and so were bound for the playoffs — but not until after a two-month hiatus. When I got the kids back for a practice after the break, I asked everyone to sit in a circle. I requested that everyone talk, one at a time, about what he had been up to, what he thought we needed to do to be successful in the playoffs, and so forth. Some kids were shy about this, but most had really good, constructive suggestions. When it came his turn to speak, one boy just sat there and beamed as he looked unhurriedly around the circle at each face. Finally he spoke, “Man,” he said slowly. “It sure is good to see you guys again.”
That’s friendship and trust.
If you know of something that brings any more joy, please let me know.