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HAVE YOU HUGGED
YOUR COACH TODAY? |
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I’ve been coaching kids for about 17 years. Basketball,
baseball, soccer, and now tennis. And I’m depressed.
It’s not the first time I’ve been depressed, and it
probably won’t be the last. It comes with the territory, and I hate it.
Most people don’t understand, including the players. I
realized this years ago, when the other team scored the winning run in the
bottom of the last inning, thereby handing us a devastating loss in the
first round of the Ross Valley Little League Playoffs.
My assistant coach and I were despondent. We sat down in the
dugout, our dreams of winning the championship shattered by a lucky, fluke
hit.
"How are the kids taking it?" I asked, my head
down, thinking what I would say to them to help ease their pain.
He motioned towards the outfield grass. "They’re doing
cartwheels out in center field."
Oh.
Kids have a way of handling defeat a little better than I do.
The kids I’m now coaching are in high school, and they take
heartbreaking losses a little harder than they did in Little League. It
might be an hour or two before they forget about it. Maybe even a whole
night.
Not me. I’m pathetic. My tennis team, the #1 seed in the
season-ending tournament, lost last week to a team that we would beat 29
out of 30 times. It was a huge upset, caused by bad coaching, bad playing,
and bad luck. Our season was over, two weeks prematurely, and I was
distraught.
I told the story of our heartbreaking loss to my mother, who
was preparing for surgery. I told the story to my business partner, who
was about to visit one of our ex-managers who was in the hospital with
Stage Four cancer. I told the story to a friend of mine whose wife died
unexpectedly a few months ago, leaving him to raise their four kids alone.
Poor me. They were all very sympathetic. And I’m sure they
were all thinking the same thing, something on the order of "Get a
life."
That didn’t stop me. I’d corral anyone who would listen,
and tell them my tale of woe. I’d think of nothing else, not by choice,
but by habit. I’d replay points in my head, visualizing different
outcomes. "If only….if only….if only……"
I’d look at my watch, note the time, and imagine where we’d
be if we had won. I’d start to plan a practice in my head until I
depressingly realized there were no more practices. We had lost, and it
was over.
It was the saddest thing I’ve ever seen. Not the loss, but
my reaction to it. People were dying, homes were being lost, marriages
were breaking up, and I was consumed with a high school tennis team’s
loss.
And I was the only one. My 17 year old son, who plays on the
team, was over it by the next day. When I told him I was still struggling
with the loss, he looked at me like I was wacko. He had moved on.
My wife was more sympathetic. She heard me out before telling
me to "get over it." Another friend assured me that I was the
only person in the world still thinking about it. And almost everyone
thought I was being ridiculous.
And I am being ridiculous. It’s just a game. In the great
scheme of things, it means very little. But when you see a coach moping
around after a devastating loss, give him or her a break. Good coaches,
whether they’re coaching the New York Yankees or the Ross Valley Tigers,
put their heart and soul into their team. And as silly as it sounds, it
hurts when you fail, even though it’s just a game.
On behalf of my fellow coaches, I appreciate your
understanding. I’m starting to feel better already. Did I hear someone
mention something about an earthquake in China? |
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