Tag: Coaching

Over the last few years, I’ve had an opportunity to get to know more about coaching.

Don’t get me wrong, that’s not to say that I’ve learned “how” to coach.  No, that is a skill I will likely never master.

Rather, as a mom with kids in sports, I’ve been an observer at practices, games, meets, tournaments, where I’ve watched coaches interact with their young athletes.  I’ve seen volunteer parents who know nothing about the sport take on the challenge.  I’ve watched trained and experienced coaches lead a group of rookies in the sport.   And, I’ve had a chance to watch everything in between.

I’ve even taken a rather unsuccessful crack at coaching myself as one of those keen, but really clueless, parents who knew the sport, but had no idea how to teach it.  You know the ones.  We mean well, but we have no idea how to explain to a child how to wind up for that shot, straighten their start or make that crisp pass.

My own coaching career culminated in a snow pile.  Towards the end of the season, I was leading a practice on a field strategically positioned just beside the Zamboni door of an arena.  It being late summer, it was, apparently, time for the Zamboni to empty its snowy guts at the edge of the parking lot that the arena shared with the field.  For an entire practice, I tried to get the kids to focus on the drills or my instructions, rather than the enticing grinding as the Zamboni dumped more and more of its icy contents.  With 15 minutes left of the practice, I gave up, and yelled: “King of the Castle!”

The kids didn’t need another prompting.  Within seconds, they had flown across the field and were bounding up the snow mound faster than I’d seen them run all season.  A hilarious, wet and utterly glorious snowball fight ensued.  I subsequently learned that not only have elementary schools in my community outlawed the practice of snowball fights, kids are no longer allowed to climb up big snow pack hills.  Needless to say, I yet again questioned what the heck I was doing coaching.

All the above to say that I have nothing but the utmost respect for coaches, the role they play for the teams they are coaching, and the importance of them in my kids lives.

There is one thing, however, that I didn’t notice while I was coaching but that I wished I had known.  Maybe experienced coaches already know this, but as an observer (and a paltry practitioner), I thought it worth raising in a post.

And so, a letter to the Coach…

 

Dear Coach:

First off, let me applaud you.  Coaching is a rather thankless task.   The kids will frequently grumble about the drill or the push-up you’ve assigned, and will rarely thank you themselves.  While the parents?  Well, they will MEAN well, but they can have high expectations of what you’re able to accomplish with their child or the team – some realistic, some not so much.

But let me tell you, while those kids will, at times, blame you, ignore you or drive you insane, never, ever doubt that they are watching you.

They are watching the way you walk, the way you talk, what you eat, how you move, and even what you wear.  They are taking in every aspect of who you are and drawing conclusions – in the literal way that kids do – about how they should ‘be’ in this world.

This was brought home to me – literally and figuratively – when we had the opportunity this past summer to host a couple of out of town coaches for a summer sports camp. The “boys” as we called them – though they were young men in their early 20s – stayed with us for a week.  They were polite, respectful, engaging and oh so young to my 40-something brain.  They spent their days with the kids at the camp, but had most of their dinners with us, so we got to know them a little.

For my son, the coaches were better than if the iPad and the Xbox merged into a single super electronic Mecca. He watched absolutely everything about them and asked a million questions.

Before they arrived, he wanted to know everything he could about them.  Who are they?  Where are they from?   What do they eat?  Do they play?  How old are they?  Do they speak English?  He peppered us with endless questions before the camp organizers even gave us names.

When we finally got a short bio for each coach, my son poured over the photos and the little information provided and instructed me on what foods we could and couldn’t make for them.  And again, the questions came incessantly.  How old are they?  Where were they born?  What to they do?  Do you think they’ll like it here?  I was honestly dumbfounded by the interest.  I thought he’d find it interesting, but his admiration and “star-struckness” were palpable.

When the coaches finally arrived, my normally incessant talker who can’t sit still was in a minor trance.  At meal time, rather than his customary regular ups and downs, he was silently still the whole meal.    From my vantage point at the table, I could see him alternating between intense concentration on what they were saying and eyes shyly darting back and forth.  He didn’t leave the table once while they were there.  He didn’t get up and down and fidget about.  He was glued in his seat until the meal was over and the coaches left the table.

And his observations about these two boys would have put Sherlock Holmes to shame.

He noticed that Coach Liam wore a chain around his neck that he adjusted when he was bored.  He noticed he didn’t think much of international football, supported Liverpool, that he said crisps for potato chips and that he was tired a lot.  He noticed that Coach Haroom had shwarma for lunch everyday, liked to laugh at the kids’ jokes, had more energy on the field and didn’t like the heat.  My son noticed what they ate, how they talked, how they held themselves.  He noticed it all.

I knew from experience that their coaches have an impact on my kids’ lives.  They choose what to eat, or not eat, they change their body positions or how they move, they adjust their attitude or their perspective all based on what the coaches have told them.

But let me tell you, Coach, it is far more than what you say and do in practice that impacts the kids.  They are watching and learning from absolutely everything you do – your tone, your body language, your preferences and your off-handed comments.

They may not seem to be listening to your instructions, may be goofing around and you may have to explain to them for the 10^thtime how to do the drill, but never doubt whether they are watching you.

They are taking it all in, processing, absorbing and learning from you in ways you might never expect.  They are learning how to be an athlete, a teammate and deciding what kind of person they want to be in life by watching what you do, how you interact with them and with others.

Whether you know it or not, Coach, you are on a stage every time you step onto that deck, field or gym.  When your team is around you, you are in one of the most intense spotlights you will ever experience, and you are helping to shape the next generation.

It’s a pretty intense role, and I wish you strength and luck.  And I offer my gratitude, as well as my quiet plea to take care of your charges.  Whether you know or it not, you are helping to shape these kids, and that is an awesome responsibility.