Few things engulf the entire human species as the notion of sport. And for as long as I can remember, the wide world of athletics has consumed my entire being, as well. Aside from actually sponsoring a team, I have been involved with every aspect associated with sports for my entire life.
As a toddler growing up in Seattle, I was clothed in the respective colors of the Seahawks, Mariners, Huskies, Thunderbirds and Super Sonics. With age came coordination (I’m still working on that), and thus my introduction into the perennial world of instructed exercise. However, It didn’t take long to realize I was not destined for athletic stardom.
Fast-forward to now, and few things have changed. I’m still immensely obsessed with sports, though what has changed is monumental: Where I once read the newspaper looking up stats of my favorite players, nowadays I spend more time compiling those same stats for this paper.
Most importantly, where I once played the sports I love so much, I have now undergone a life-changing role-reversal. As I look back on my sporting career, it doesn’t take long to realize that no aspect of the athletic community has been half as fulfilling as coaching.
Few things make a man appreciate the game as being a coach, whether that game is baseball, basketball, football, soccer, hockey, swimming, golf or bowling.
The rush you get when your own team executes a play for the first time is simply unrivaled. You just stand back and revel in the pure awesomeness of youth athletics, and suddenly the sheer joy of the sport overwhelms you. Soon you realize that you would rather help a sixth-grader get on base for the first time than hit a game-winning homerun yourself.
In only three seasons of coaching youth sports (two stints at Little League and my current third-grade basketball team), I have learned from three teams more than I ever learned from playing on 20-plus teams myself.
First and foremost, never underestimate the power of post-game snacks. Mother of God, if all you remember to do is make sure someone brings snacks, you’re a success. You would rather be hustled by the mafia than face the sad-yet-wicked face of a thirsty, Capri Sun-less 8-year-old.
It’s simply frightening, and will haunt your dreams forever.
“Conditioning is something you do after you shampoo.”
I said it. I stand by it. I’ll say it again – at least concerning youth sports. A 10-year-old boy has more energy than a Kentucky Derby champ. Never worry about them running out of juice, so you don’t need to run them ragged in practice.
Sure, they’ll need a break for water and maybe a quick time-out, but while the rest of us are worried about tearing an ACL or rupturing a hernia after 10 minutes of three-on-three, these kids would play six games in a row if they could.
Yet perhaps the most important thing is dealing with parents. I was instructed early on to just nod and smile when taking their advice or criticism – yet I’ve been so lucky, all I’ve received are constructive comments and obvious advice. Most of the time, they’re right, too.
Eventually, though, I’ll have to deal with the dad who’s re-living the glory days through his son. And that’s one of the reasons I choose to coach at a younger level: The vast majority of parents don’t – and physically cannot – expect their children to perform at such a high level if they’re still learning the game.
Yet parents are integral to the entire process. They’re the single greatest element in the whole equation. Because of them, the greatest joy I get from coaching is helping parents coach their kids. It should be the parents helping to inspire their children to play, not just a coach.
However, I still live to inspire. So, if because of me, a child decides that he likes the game that his parents forced him into and decides to play again, than I accomplished my biggest goal.
Thus I will always remember those who inspired me.
Larry Brown, when coaching the NBA’s Detroit Pistons last year, “wasted” a timeout late in a sure-win to extend the standing ovation for opponent Reggie Miller’s final career game. Not only was that the classiest move I’ve ever witnessed, I can duly assure you there was nary a dry eye after witnessing a tear-jerker such as that. For I imagine an elite mountaintop known as coaching’s upper pantheon, where Brown sits with Penn State’s Joe Paterno, UCLA’s John Wooden and every coach who changed a child’s life.
Yet speaking of classy, no one tops the classiest coach of coaches in my life: my mother.
The single mom, who worked as much as she could, still came to every single soccer practice, every single basketball game and every single baseball jamboree when I was younger. Carting around my three little sisters wasn’t easy, I know, and she still made time to keep score or work the snack booth.
It’s because of her I’ve become the coach I am today. Learning that respect in the sport is key, but respect for life is the greatest goal one can score.
So if there’s one thing I want to reiterate after playing sports, writing sports, photographing sports and most importantly, coaching sports, it is simply to respect the game.
Hopefully I can pass that on to just one 9-year-old like me.
No comments:
Post a Comment