In the Game

At the beginning of August the roster was just the right size. 17

Since you play soccer with eleven at a time, the difference of six gave us a nice, comfortable substitution margin. And, since my team has rarely had many injuries to worry about, I was optimistic about a really good run ahead.

Right before the season started one player unexpectedly quit. 16

In a casual, non-contact, inconsequential, informal, fun, summertime pick-up game one went down with a season-ending knee injury. 15

In our very first match, our keeper was lost with a season-ending knee injury. 14

But, still, fourteen is an okay number, right? Barring any further injuries or illness…

I shouldn’t have said that.

Two nights before our Columbus Day tournament I got a text message from a parent of one of the fourteen that began, “just wanted to give you a heads up…” I’m not sure in what context something good is coming next, but as a coach trying to get a team ready to play against really tough competition that start is usually a bad sign.

It’s an asthma episode. 13

Oh, and one player had already been sick all week. 12

So, I found two “guest” players from a younger team. 14

We played our first game (of three) and hung in there just fine. 14

We lost another girl to a knee injury at the very end of our second game. 13

And one of our strongest players was limping on a bruised thigh at Saturday dinner, but I didn’t even think about it much because she always, always, always bounces back way more quickly than any. other. athlete. I. know.

She didn’t. 12.

And one of our guest players had a previous commitment so she had to go back home before the third match. 11.

At the start of the last match, the referee says to me, “Coach, when you want to substitute a player just make sure you bring her up to the center line.” I humorously replied, “I would love to do that. Do you have any available?”

He said, “Sorry, I wasn’t trying to rub it in.”

We lost all of our games last weekend. We didn’t score any goals and we gave up too many. We used two players extensively who had never played with us before. We played with keepers who had little experience, but sacrificed their preferred positions to do what their team needed. We had other injuries, and headaches, and exhaustion that I didn’t even mention here.

I searched in vain for ways to defend or attack better, but there simply were no options to choose from.

And if you feel sorry for me or for my team I want you to know that I will never forget those two days because we were in every game. We didn’t have the best skills and we were smallish compared to the other teams, but we were in every game. We were dominated for the most part, but we only lost by one, by two, and by one again. We were in every game. The girls never bickered or complained about their plight, they just fought through it. We were in every game.

Except for maintaining a positive attitude, my coaching didn’t have much to do with our outcome. No, the fact that each of those last eleven could walk away from the match with her head held high comes from only one place. It comes from the heart. And if you could measure heart the championship trophy would belong to the girls in light blue.

We will win again soon and the character the team built in this gritty, determined effort will sustain us through this challenging season. We have six matches left. Some are going to be really hard and some we might have a good chance to win. No matter what, though…

We will be in the game.

The Man in the Middle

Besides coaching soccer, I now referee a handful or two of youth games each season. My wife doesn't understand why, but I actually enjoy this aspect of the sport. Having played soccer all of my life--and having coached for much of my adult life--being in the center gives me a whole new perspective.

Even with the young ones, it's hard for me to keep up. My endurance is good, but I'm not very fast any more. Actually, even on my best days I never was very fast. Luckily, I can choose to call the small-side games instead of the ones on the full field most of the time. The three-referee system utilized for most games also minimizes the amount of running I have to do since I can rely on assistants to help call the sidelines and offsides.

This isn't actually me...

Today's game was played on a beautiful Bermuda grass field. Softer and flatter than any field I was ever lucky enough to enjoy as a player, the pace of the game was nearly perfect. It was a fairly high-level travel game so many of the players had gifts that I only dreamed of when I was young. I witnessed plays of remarkable dexterity: girls running off the ball with clear intent and their teammates finding them in stride; brilliant first touches; precise positioning; powerful and accurate shooting.

Early on, the ball went out of bounds last touched by the home team resulting in a throw-in for the visitors. A player--clearly not agreeing with my call--picked the ball up and whipped it off the field so it had to be chased down by a coach. Another time, I whistled a foul in front of the home team goal, and the same player loudly called out, "are you ever going to call anything against the other team?"

Both of these things happened in the first fifteen minutes of the match. The out of bounds call had virtually no bearing on the outcome and the foul was one of only two or three calls I had made in the whole game up to that point, so there wasn't much history to back up a claim that I was leaning one way or the other too precipitously.

Oh, and the player was a girl all of eleven years old.

There could be a lot of reasons why she behaved that way. She could just have been having an off day or wasn't feeling well. I don't know. What I worry about, though, is that a player so young has had examples set for her that suggest this is the way athletes and sports men and women act. If I had to bet, I'd say that was true. I wish it wasn't.

On the other hand--and lest you think that I'm just another person lamenting poor athletic behavior in youth sports--here's the really good news: in all of the games I've done this was one of a very few examples of anything less than grace and good behavior that I have witnessed. I believe that many people see outbursts like this one and categorically assume that it is the norm rather than the exception. My experience has repeatedly proven otherwise.

On this day, every other player I interacted with was having a blast, playing hard, testing the limits of the rules yet playing within them, and above all else competing as intensely as they could. They had the physical gifts and passion that make this such a beautiful game to play, to watch, to coach, and, yes, to referee. To be the man in the middle was an honor and a privilege, and I would do it tomorrow if I wasn't so tired...

We Did It, Coach

You can’t really say that this was a rivalry game because the teams had never met before. Between the two rosters are lots of connections from school, from recreational teams, and all stars, and tryouts. To finally meet on the field, though, they had to travel about ninety minutes away and get a lucky draw in a big tournament.

Our opponent was a well-known and respected one from just around the corner. Playing in more competitive leagues than we had for several seasons, their reputation was excellent and deserved. Ours was good, but not as good and certainly not as visible. We hadn’t yet proven we could play at the same level.

Even with the distinct advantage we had in goal, it would take everything the girls had to win this one. Our keeper has played with us for six seasons, and the other team had to use several willing, but less experienced players to fill that role. That could mean a really big opportunity for us.

But, momentum was clearly on the other side in the first half. Our opponent put lots of pressure on our goal while we sent very few tests their way. They controlled the game at midfield while we fought relatively unsuccessfully to push the ball into their end. Their skills and speed were simply better than ours. They scored, and we didn’t. 1-0, at halftime.

At the break I told the girls that they had proven only that they were not yet as good as the other team. That’s what everyone watching probably expected and thought. So no big deal, right?

Then I asked my team if they wanted to try to change that conclusion. I knew they were capable, but they had to believe it themselves and the only time to do that would be when they stepped back on the field.

For the next thirty minutes there was no quit. No won’t. No can’t. No try.

Only do.

And it was a thing of beauty. They won balls they had been losing. They increased pressure everywhere. They were just a half step faster than they were before halftime--which was still a half step slower than some of their speedier opponents. But it was enough, and gradually the tide turned.

Some might look at the final score, 3-1, and say that we won easily. Some might say that this win was not significant because the other team was at a disadvantage. Whatever anyone else wants to say is okay with me because I know something special happened. I know different.

At game end, when I walked on to the field to greet my tired, but satisfied team, I saw Steph’s face and Holly’s face and Anna’s face. The look on each was the same and, well, athletic and mature. No longer a child-like countenance, but a competitor’s stare. Too exhausted to smile, they looked me right in the eye as if to say, “we did it, Coach.” And then we slapped hands and bumped fists. No words exchanged.

That was the winning moment, They didn’t overly celebrate, but they were happy. They didn’t strut or show off, but they walked with confidence and poise. They went through the traditional post-game line and shook hands with each of the opposing players and coaches. “Good game,” they said. And they meant it. All the way around.

“We did it, Coach.” Sounds about right.

Growing Up Fast

Last night I held a “speedwork” session for the soccer team I coach. This practice was not about kicking, shooting, passing or heading. Nope, this was about running. Fast.

Since it’s still vacation season I expected a small turnout, and that’s what I got. Just four girls plus one sister.

It was a beautiful, clear, relatively cool and humidity free, spectacular, late summer evening. Perfect for just about anything—including running on a track. The girls are headed into their U16 season in a new (to them), more competitive, league so fitness, speed, and agility are at an even higher premium.

I was able to find a wealth of drills that I could use to help improve speed with repetition. Some of the exercises were kind of goofy, and it wasn’t immediately obvious how they help. You sort of have to trust that they will.

After stretching, I sent the girls off on a few easy laps. This was the first time I could just watch them run. In fact, when I thought about it, I very rarely just get to watch them do anything. At practice and games, my mind is constantly adjusting, thinking, planning, strategizing, and wondering how to get all of the moving parts into a functional whole. Just watching, and enjoying, is one of the last things I get to do.

Their strides, seemingly effortless and free, were beautiful to behold. Not perfect, but pretty close. Okay, I’m biased by love and I sometimes (often) have a hard time seeing their flaws. But, still, they looked awfully good to me. I can remember when they were ten years old and they ran on short little legs that couldn’t get them very far very quickly. Where did these powerfully athletic young women come from?

Perhaps in comparison I was also thinking about my own heavy gait as opposed to their graceful movement. I don’t care. I could have just stopped then and there and called it a good night, but we had work to do.

In front of the setting sun they stayed focused and did every weird thing that I asked them to do. Hopping on one foot then two, marching with stiff legs, skipping low and high. Falling start. Seated start. Lying start. Almost everything as fast as they could. Few complaints. Plenty of smiles. Camaraderie. Too quickly, we were done.

They finished with three more easy laps. And I watched these beautiful, graceful athletes run again. Proud of them. Proud of their effort. Wishing that they wouldn’t grow up so fast.

Oh, wait, this is speedwork. I want them to grow up fast, but not quickly.

It’s There. You Just Can’t See It.

I love soccer, but I coach for the relationships. The spring season brings longer days, warm weather (eventually), and more chances to bring the team together. That typically means 3-4 times per week for “fun and friendship” on the pitch. I think this is what heaven will be like for me.

But the springtime changes when your team enters high school. Most of the girls get a chance to play for their schools and they dive into that with everything they have. And that means their priorities have to shift, rightfully. They get to practice five days a week—which is awesome—but other things in their life have to get moved out to make room for that intensity.

So what role does their Avalanche team have for them? Well, it’s simply their home. Some will have good experiences on their new teams and some will have less than good experiences. But all know that they have a place they can go to that will be consistent and free and safe. Avalanche soccer is good, yes, but the bonds they share are even better.

The other day, I watched Heritage (Jenny and Hailey) play against Stone Bridge (Allyson). Allyson scored the only and winning goal in a 1-0 match. Both of the Heritage girls said, though, that if they had to lose they were glad it was to their Avalanche teammate. After the match they all hugged each other with no thoughts of winning or losing, just one of friendship. Ashley, who did not make her high school team, was there, too, and she was equally happy for her teammates and friends.

I believe that the thirteen other girls in light blue would have acted exactly the same way because the Avalanche has an important place in their hearts and will, forever. You can’t see it; you can’t touch it. But you know it’s there.

Be All That You Can Be

In their tenth try, my soccer team had the best and most consistent performance they've ever had in a tournament. Playing against two rival teams, and a third they had not played before, they won three consecutive matches to make it to the championship. While they faltered, finally, in the last match, there was no question that they had done their very best.

Yes, they had been in championships before, but there was no mistaking their path this time. They didn't have to wait for the outcome of any of the other games to see where they stood--as they sometimes have in the past. This time they did it all on their own.

But, how do I explain what happened? There were just as many reasons why we shouldn't have done well as why we did. Five of our girls weren't available to play and were replaced by two younger players who were unfamiliar to our team. One of our keepers could catch and throw, but couldn't kick due to an injury. Really, they will always be competitive, but who would expect them to be winners this time?

I guess I do, always, and they do, too.

I don't think it ever occurred to a single Avalanche that they should do anything but go out and win. They played with passion, intensity, and consistency. They played together, and when the play got rough they were fiercely competitive. When they had chances to score they made them, and when they needed to make a great defensive play they did that, too. They accepted their guest players who then lived up to the expectations set by their temporary teammates.

Yes, they ran out of energy in the second half of the final, and lost to a deserving champion, but what a thrill to see these rapidly maturing, smart, intense, and beautiful athletes playing as a team game in and game out--each match better than the previous one. It's called "living up to your potential," and it was a gift to behold.

Think of Yourself as More Than You Are, and You Will Be

Prior to yesterday, over the past two seasons, my girls soccer team had played 11 games, The record? 3 wins, 3 losses, and 5 ties. Yes, that's right, almost half of the matches have ended in ties. Overall, the record is exactly even. As you might expect that puts us sqauarely in the middle of the pack: not too bad, but not really too great either.

So before the game yesterday I said, "I think we're too satisfied with being average." The reality is that the Avalanche is in a very competitive division so ties can actually be something to be proud of. On the other hand, real accomplishment comes when you break through that tendency and do whatever it takes to get just beyond the break-even point.

How many ways have I come up with to say that a tie is "good enough" when I always believe that we can do better? Can we think, collectively, that we are really better than our results show, and what would happen if we just got that in our heads right from the start?

So they tried it, and it worked. Not right away, but gradually. You could see it happening. At first, they started out slow, which is their tendency, but then you saw one or two girls really stepping up, and confidence started to spread from Allyson to Taylor and from Barta to Schwind. By the end of the game, it was happening up and down and across every inch of the field.

3-0, Avalanche wins. It pays to think big.

The Right Impression

I have coached two soccer teams in the last 15 years: a boys team, the Vipers, and a girls team, the Avalanche. The teams are approximately ten years apart in age. Recently, the boys--now out of college--have come out to help me coach the girls--now freshmen in high school. The guys have been around the girls enough to be seen as big brothers, but I need to them to be seen as coaches.

After practice today, I talked to Chris, Tim, and Anthony about how they have to switch gears from someone that is there for fun to someone that is there to teach. "You have to realize," I said, "that they hear everything you say and listen to the way you say it." Although the girls are all growing up rapidly, you still have to pay attention to the impression you make. Arrive on time, work hard, set examples. Be serious when seriousness is called for. Be fun and funny when that makes sense, too.

Next to parents and teachers, coaches have greater opportunity to influence children than many coaches realize. Creating a successful team environment--regardless of winning percentage--sets them up for success in life. How many organizations today profess to be team-based or team-builders? In my company, we call our alliances with other businesses "teaming agreements" and  we evaluate individual performance based, in part, on how well a person works within a team.

On the athletic field our children find ways to grow, to communicate, and to play together. Their ability to do that, molded here, will serve them well throughout their lives. We, as coaches, need to be committed to that concept and do everything we can to make their time at practice and in games worthwhile for the long run.