Mediocre Coaches

   I hit the scales today; down to 165.4 lbs, a weight I haven’t seen since my 20’s.  I could attribute it to my effort in the gym; because we go nearly every day; more often still if my bride had her way.  I could also attribute the loss to the change in diet; because my wife made adjustments in what we eat. Even with loosing those things I loved but were not-so-good-for-me, her meals continue to entice my taste buds.  Perhaps those along with her expertise in personal training combine to produce the success I am experiencing now.

  Yes, the ballet of the player and their coach cannot be discussed often enough to reveal the winning combination.  While I was toying with this gratitude I recalled a snap shot of my little league coach; how he was relentlessly demanding of us all to do better.  Of course we all at one time or another thought him unreasonable, harsh, even… dare I mutter; unfair.

  I smiled with the recollection of nearly praying on rainy days for his phone call cancelling practice.  I never considered whenever we players were out in the field getting soaked and muddied fielding pop-ups and grounders, that he too was standing in the very same cold rain; without the benefit of running around to keep warm no less. 

  I used to think coaching was all about knowledge; then transferring the little nuances of the sport onto players to culminate in, of course, a championship; experience was the tool they offered to hone each player into an example of personal excellence.  But now I believe coaches do far more than most (at least the self involved players) think.  For me, I see the coaches of my past as living examples of perseverance.  Along with cajoling us to move faster; think on our feet; and pay attention; were the more subtle lessons of courage under pressure; to face adversity with determination; to trust your team and to cooperate with compassion; so many of the tools that would in the future, make life if not reasonably successful, certainly far more pleasant in passage.  My coaches taught me how to accept victory with grace; and defeat with dignity.  They taught me how to be in the moment, and how to be considerate to others (friend and foe). 

  The Duke of Wellington is often incorrectly quoted as saying that “The Battle of Waterloo was won on the playing-fields of Eton.”  What Wellington said, while passing an Eton cricket match many decades later, was, “There grows the stuff that won Waterloo”, a remake construed as a reference to “the manly character induced by games and sport” amongst English youth generally.  Alas, building character often as not takes oblique roads to its destination.  As for the personal glory, or agony, holding us to embrace our worth no matter what; to fight the good fight; to play with our hearts because it matters to who we are; stands the legions of coaches who support their players while shaping them into responsible, mature adults.  He demonstrated what loyalty was; he stood up for us, he stood behind each and every one of us.

  I’ll never forget the gift he provided by being the man who cared to show us goofy kids how to play like winners; by that he earned our allegiance, and to be honest, our unquestioning-blind obedience.   I took a swing at being that guy once; the team didn’t do all that well, but they tried, and we had some fun, I impressed on them to not take the taunting too personally when we got trounced; and we did...a lot.   I remember this one kid in particular, Kyle. He was a bit small for his age; not all that coordinated either, but he got to play; everyone did.  At our last game, when there were no more practices to moan about, he came up to me in the dusty end of the day and uttered the greatest words I’ve ever heard.

“Thanks Coach” 

“For What Kyle?”

“For being Coach” he smiled, turned and ran to his waiting parents standing by their minivan with its doors open, ready to drive home.  They waved; I waved back; his mom cupped her mouth and yelled her appreciation too. I smiled and picked up the sports bag, trying to swallow the lump that somehow got into my throat.

I remember me saying the very same thing years before.