Building a Coach's Character

I think I’m going to throw up.  Actually vomit all over the bleachers in front of me.  Anyone looking at me wouldn’t guess in a million years how nervous I really am.  After all, I’ve been involved with basketball close to 30 years in some shape or form.  Mostly, I’ve been a player.  But today I am a coach.  And I’ve only been to two practices.

When I agreed to help out my daughter’s coach, filling in for him for a couple of tournament games, I was excited.  It is her final year and being part of her last basketball moments would be so cool.  

Now however, reality has struck.  Will I be able to help them at all?  Will I make the right decisions?  I’ve always shied away from big responsibility.  It’s why I never became an editor.  Or a head coach.  Frankly, it scares the crap out of me.  If I were to really think about where this anxiety comes from, I would guess that it stems from a huge lack of self-confidence along with that burning dread of disappointing and failing others.

It’s too late to delve into that now though.  Thankfully, I am in charge of a wonderful group of girls and they know what to do.  All I have to do is steer them in the right direction.

As I sit and watch the warm up I make a few notes.  Otherwise, I’m afraid nothing will come out of my mouth when they all stand around looking expectantly at me.

The warm up clock winds down and sweat trickles down my back.  Music blares and the thump of the drums fills my head.  I wish I was on the court instead of the sidelines.  It would be so much easier there. 

I shed the thought and concentrate on the game.  The girls come in and my notes prove to be an anchor for me as I relay our plan.  The buzzer goes and the game is on. 

I love how distraction can be a savior.  As the game progresses, I forget all about the rock in my stomach because I have no time to invest in myself.  It is all about the game.  I am completely wrapped up in helping these girls-who have invested so much of their time to be here-succeed.  Sadly, we lose in overtime by three points.  I watch as that all-to-familiar disappointment seems to cover them like a heavy blanket.

This feeling is not lost on me.  As a player, I endured countless gut-wrenching losses.  The same self-recriminations come back to me now like they did all those years ago.  I know there were decisions I should have made, things I should have said.  I look at the team and give them the same speech made by many coaches before me:  Good game, it could have gone either way, we played hard. 

Now though, I wish I could have been more insightful.  I wish I could have told them something deep and thought provoking like those speeches I’ve watched a hundred times in Hoosiers or Coach Carter. 

Later, I realize that I didn’t really need to say anything because all athletes gain something every time they step on the court whether it’s spoken by a coach or not.  That slow but amazing emergence of character, built with each loss and victory. 

The team turns it around for their last game and we win by ten points.  Looking at their smiling faces, it’s gratifying to know I played a small part in this success.  I don’t say much to them afterwards.  I don’t need to. 

I suppose every coach is different-some are better than others.  I’m just glad I took this risk.  After all, my character could still use some building.