Sometimes some parents do what other parents (that don't really have the time, skills, or even desire for) have called 'noble' things... as in the context of one giving up their time, efforts, and knowledge to coach little league baseball, boys and girls club basketball, soccer, etc... trying to teach young folks a sport.
Noble... maybe... but my motivations were almost selfish in the satisfaction that I gained from each experience. I coached because I liked it, and because I thought that somewhere along the way I could make a difference in a young life. The really good coaches, at least the ones that I have been privileged to be associated with, hope that somewhere along the way the kids they coach find out that they can apply a little of what they learn in organized sports - to life.
Sometimes... in retrospect... the teacher (or coach) may find that he or she just might have gotten far more enlightenment from their involvement and observations, than the students did.
I coached Pee Wee football from 1999 through 2001 for the Pottsville Apaches. In other areas of the country it's also known as 'Pop Warner', 'The Youth Football League', 'The Junior Football Conference', and various other names. In and around Pottsville, Arkansas, it's called Pee Wee Football - and we take it serious. Fun... but serious.
At the time that I coached the Apaches we belonged to what we proudly called, "The Big Eight Conference". I don't know who made up the conference name... I do know that my last year we actually had nine different teams; of course one of the teams was newly organized and had not been formally voted into the conference at that time. It may be "The Big Nine" conference now. Whatever it is, or was, we had some good teams, and some good times.
There's something just 'right' about a bunch of kids ages 9 to 13, dressed and padded up like they're in the NFL, running amok on a football field, banging into one another... doing their best to be like their favorite player and at the same time looking up into the bleachers to make sure that Mom and Dad or Grandma or Gramps or any number of kin folk (or girls... though at that age none will admit it) are watching every tackle or block or run. It's a social event - complete with proud folks gathered together to watch their favorite ball playing kid go out and crash into someone else's favorite ball playing kid for four quarters.
It was a great thing to be a part of.
I loved every minute of the experience of coaching some of the best kids in the world, instructing them on how to play a sport that I love. I thought that I was the teacher. It didn't take me long to find out that I was being taught a lot along the way.
My first year as an Apache coach started off with me just being another Apache parent, watching practice from the sideline and trying to keep my mouth shut in regards to yelling out instructions on how to do things at my youngest son, Jake. My attempts at keeping my mouth shut were, to say the least, an effort in futility... I just couldn't help sharing my extensive knowledge of the correct way to play football with Jake (and anyone else within earshot of oh... say... Little Rock). I noticed once or twice that Jerry (the head coach) kept looking over at me after I would whisper (well... maybe 'express' would be more accurate) a helpful hint to Jake on how to prosecute perfect defensive strategy and technique.
Okay... maybe he looked over about three times... or thirty... who was counting?
Let me just put in here that I have coached a lot of things in my life. I have coached kids in Minor League Baseball, Little League Baseball, and even the Wasilla High School Baseball team in Wasilla, Alaska. I have coached Boys and Girls Club Basketball teams in a couple of different states, and I have coached Pee Wee Football in Pottsville, Arkansas. I have loved every minute of my coaching experience in all of those sports.
Well... maybe that is not QUITE true.
I have loved every minute of watching young people blossom in learning a sport, performing what they have learned effectively, and taking on traits like respect for others, honest effort, and teamwork; all character traits that will benefit them later in life. I have absolutely loved watching kids that are sometimes hesitant... or even timid... apply themselves to a task, get up if knocked down, if struck out, or if they miss a shot, and go back at trying to do better. There is NOTHING better to a coach than watching the lights come on in a previously insecure child when they realize, 'I can DO this!' They're eyes get a little wider and light up, they're a little more eager at approaching a previously intimidating task, they're more determined in their attempts, and they're smiling (almost a little cocky) when they not only complete a task, but complete it WELL. They have learned to see more... because they realize that you have to look and listen to learn... and they have realized that the next obstacle is surmountable if they give it their best efforts, again, and again, and again - until they fulfill their objective. Self reliance is learned, and self confidence soars.
It's a fine thing to see.
I loved the kids. It was the PARENTS that occasionally got under my skin.
It was a reversal of roles for me to be the parent on the sideline trying to give my son the benefit of a dad's experience and knowledge, while at the same time trying to not be a distraction. It was hopeless. I would have had to miss all of his practices and games to carry that off. I guess the first thing that was brought home to me when coaching the Apaches (actually before coaching) was what it felt like to be on the other side of the kid... the 'I love you man, go-get-em-tiger-and-do-it-like-this'... parent side.
Too often the child's desire to play well for - and please the coach, and the natural desire on the part of the child to make their parents proud of them, conflict when a child has to choose between the two factions. It is a very stressful thing for a kid to choose allegiance in those difficult circumstances. Both good coaches, and good parents, must be very careful to be aware of such a situation, and not place a child in that spot. I have seen kids on teams that my boys have played on get so discouraged that they just walk away and never try or participate in something that they would have enjoyed, gotten a lot of life skills from, and possibly excelled in. I have seen a lot of well meaning, doting, and otherwise very good parents, say and do some very immature and hurtful things. I hated having to deal with parents that insisted on being, though not always intentionally, some very bad examples.
So... this is kind of what was in my head when Jerry approached me before practice the next day (the second day of my youngest son's first ever football season). When he asked me if I would step over out of earshot of the kids and other parents I was thinking, "Oh boy...you've done it now Sam. He's going to ask you to either be quiet and stop coaching from the sidelines, or just to stay away from the practice field". I thought I was about to be politely told to let him do his job... and I was, in all humility and some embarrassment, prepared to acknowledge and grant that perfectly reasonable request. I just wanted to stay around.
Jerry was, from what I had seen - and in my opinion, an excellent coach. It doesn't take long to know when a coach has the kids' best interests at heart; and that is, after all, what really matters.
We talked for a few minutes, and I could tell that he was sizing me up... we didn't really know each other. After a little small talk he looked at me and said, "Well, the other coach and I were listening to you during practice yesterday" .... [oh boy, here it comes] .... "and we talked about it last night" .... [please don't run me off] .... "and we decided to ask you" .... [I promise to shut up] .... "if you wanted to coach defense for us?"
Before what he said sunk in I said, "Jerry.... listen .... I apologiii .... ummm .... WHAT!?"
"Yeah", he said, "We've both got the offensive end of it down, but we need help with the defense and it sounded to us like you have coached before, and that you could get it across to the kids... and it kinda sounded like you know what you are talking about".... "Would you help us out?"
I think I kind of stuttered and said, "I thought you were running me off!"
He just grinned (like that may have been something he had previously had experience with) and said, "No.... we want you to help us coach defense".
When I returned to Earth I think I managed to agree... without falling down and kissing his feet. I had gone from the depths of dread to the exalted hight of happy disbelief in a very short span of time... I may have been hyperventilating... I was euphoric.
'DEFENSE' .... that just put the cherry on the whole unbelievable moment. My firm belief lies in the saying, "Offense wins games... Defense wins championships".
The other team can't win if they can't score.
The other team can't win if they can't score.
I know that other coaches may feel differently about what wins championships, and I respect their thoughts on that too.... however delusional they might be.
As I walked out onto the practice field, the first day of being an actual and for real Apache Coach, Jerry looked at me, grinned, and said, "You are aware that this team went one and nine, winning only one game last year?"
My life as an Apache Pee-Wee Football coach began on a HOT day in July, 1999. I soon found out that I was not the only parent that Jerry had recruited to help... just the last one. That fact temporarily let a little wind out of my puffed-up sails, but I soon found out that we were all a bunch of Dads that only wanted our kids to have a great experience in playing a game that we all loved.
The doors to vicarious living were opened wide.
And thus began what, for the next three years, would be my course of study, at the 'Pottsville Pee-wee Football School of Life'.
< .... to be continued .... >
God bless all there,
Sam
Sam
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