Rare Challenges

There are moments in an athlete's career when they are asked to perform without the really feeling prepared. It could be the third string running back that rarely sees playing time. Although he outwardly shows signs of discontent and desire to move up into the spotlight, he's inwardly comfortable in his role with not too much pressure on his shoulders. Then one day before the big game coach announces to the team that their star running back is will not be able to play because of an injury and the "back-ups" need to be ready. They need to be ready to step it up for the team. How is our young third-stringer suppose to respond to that? In the words of the wise and famous Neuman of "Seinfeld," he is faced with "quite the conundrum." (Well, not really, but it seemed like a good place for some humor.) Anyway, really, how is he to react to this situation. I mean, he shouldn't be 'happy' that their all-state running back is strained a 'hammy,' but deep down he knows he's one step closer to being on the front lines in the heat of the battle. Deep down he is apprehensive. This week's opponent has two defensive linemen that are 6'5" 310 pound all-world players. He takes comfort, however, in the fact that the second stringer is healthy an ready to go.

Game day comes. Pre-game goes as usual. He's looking good in his pads and uniform. He spots his girlfriend prancing in with the drill team. Oh yeah, he's looking good alright. After pre-game warm up the team returns to the locker room and coach gives them the classic Knute Rockne speech. They return to the field fired up! Our young third (well now second) stringer is the first to break through the banner depicting "our" mascot hanging "their" mascot along with the words "KILL THE BULLDOGS" painted below the design (banner compliments of our sweet, innocent and peaceful cheerleaders).

With the final notes of our national anthem, emotions swell. The teams line up, the whistle blows and the 'Dawgs kick away. Our young running back is safely on the sideline yelling with all his might. Tonight's starting running back (we'll call him Speedy) fields the kick and heads up the left sideline. He breaks through the opposition like a hot knife through butter. All that's left between him and glory is the Bulldogs scrawny kicker. The entire stadium knows this is a mismatch. As the kicker approaches Speedy, he jukes, not just to elude his opponent, but lets face it, he hasn't had that many opportunities so show his stuff before the coaches, his girlfriend and 10,000 screaming spectators, so a little showmanship is in order. He jukes, spins and suddenly goes down writhing in pain. It seems that during his exhibition, he rolled an ankle. We would later discover that he tore a ligament and would be out the rest of the season, but presently we know he is out for this game. The coach calls for our young third stringer (I mean second stringer.... I mean starter). "John, you're in! This is your chance son. The team's counting on you. Don't let us down."

Gulp.

As coaches we discover alot of a young athlete's character when they are faced with such an unexpected challenge. Some will rise to the occasion. Others fold like a magician's top hat. Last night I had the rare opportunity to watch a group of young ladies take advantage of an unexpected challenge. The cross country meet we were scheduled was apparently going to be cancelled. On the way home the decision was made that since the weather forcast for today looked to be nasty, and we really needed to get a race in, it would be best to race on our own course as soon as we got back to school. Another local team felt this same need. Now don't be mistaken, I'm quite sure that many of our young harriers, were less than thrilled at this decision. I mean, they had gotten mentally prepared to race in a big meet. We drive an hour to get there. When we get there they're faced with the wonder if we are actually going to run in the present lightening, rain and hail. The decision is made to head back home. So their emotions subside, and, as it is nearing dinner time, they dig into the Subway sandwich they had brought for after the race. Just as they are settling down after a delicious meal, and we're pulling back into town, they are informed that we're going to race against Kingwood Park in 30 minutes. They had every reason to think "what the heck!" However, when the gun went off, I saw dozens of competitors. They didn't have time to get overly nervous, which might be food for thought in itself. They just knew the gun had gone off and they were in a race. Several ran faster than they ever had in conditions that really set them up for failure.

Yep. This is a great profession.

Kings and Dogs

When I first entered the profession, a more experienced coach with which I had become friends advised me that "if you treat them like dogs, they'll run like kings, and if you treat them like kings, they'll run like dogs." I remember feeling somewhat dismayed and disheartened, perhaps even a little betrayed upon hearing such unexpected advise come from someone whom I had grown to trust and respect. It had not been so long prior to that that I was an athlete myself, and had admired, respected and appreciated the guidance and even sometimes harsh correction my coaches had always shown me. When he uttered those words I remember wondering the question, "could it be that I was just that lucky or maybe blessed to have been given coaches, from middle school through college and beyond that were so positive and supportive?" Don't get me wrong, every coach I ever had possessed the ability to "reign down wrath" when the situation called for it. Every coach I ever had had the opportunity to give me a stern scolding. Okay, I'm trying to put it mildly... Every coach I ever had chewed my butt out from time to time, and why not! I needed it! I appreciated that they expected more from me than I thought had. If I was being lazy and not running the pace the coach had set, or if I was not concentrating or if I continually missed a hole the line had worked so hard to open up I didn't need to hear a kind "please do your best to get this right," or "I understand you're doing your best so we'll just move on." I needed to hear a passionate coach, in his own way tell me I was not living up to his expectations, and that's exactly what I wanted to hear. The very first coach I had made the statement to me once that if he ever stopped yelling at me (correcting me) it meant he had given up on me becoming what he believed I could be. I once had to clean chewing tobacco spit out of my ear after practice because in order to make sure I heard what he was saying (rather loudly) he was led to place his tobacco filled mouth about an inch from my ear. However five minutes later (while my ears were still ringing), he had his arm around me telling me how much he believed in me and how special he thought I was. I was in the 7th grade and he was telling me that he was convinced that, if I would commit myself, I could run in college someday. So throughout the years, every coach I had would from time to time "get on me" even perhaps raise his voice, but I NEVER remember feeling like I was being treated like a dog, but I also don't remember being treated like a king either..... hmmmmmm?
I'm reminded of something Benny Carter (former Humble ISD Athletic Director) said in a coaches meeting; "you can't do with rules what you don't do with relationships." Although I am compelled to elaborate on that thought, I sense that I have rambled enough for one day, and thus must save my thoughts for another time.