The Coach

He walked among his players before the game. Words of encouragement. Last minute reminders. Against a backdrop of gangly 15 year olds, he stood out in his nifty new black suit and yellow tie. But, the professional look this attire offered provided no disguise for the nervous energy Coach G was exuding. He was clearly anxious; distracted. After a rousing victory in its debut performance, the San Pasqual Eagles freshman team had lost three straight. Despite endless repetition to hone offensive and defensive schemes, Alex’s players still seemed to favor mayhem, chaos, and other forms of disorganization to the neater disciplines that might characterize older teams. But, over the winter break, Alex worked daily with the boys to create some muscle memory in his schemes in the hopes of creating a semblance of order out of the chaos.

From the opening tip, there was little chance this coach would sit for more than a few rare seconds at a time. Too much adrenaline, too much emotional commitment to the task at hand. Pacing, screaming, gesturing; arms folded, arms pumping, arms outstretched, arms on hips. Alternately begging, beseeching, cheeleading, threatening his players -- it had to be exhausting. As the game progressed, I saw something that surprised me. The kids looked poised, not frantic. You could see their purposeful efforts at running the plays as coached. It didn’t always succeed, of course, but the coherent pattern to their play was unmistakable. Picks were set; kids were cutting to the basket looking for easy shots; there was movement away from the ball. The press was executed in a way that would lead to the easy baskets the coach had predicted. There was no coincidence in this. The coach allowed himself the occasional smile. During time outs, the coach was encircled by his team, and he spoke encouragingly. He casually draped his arm around the kids whose normal fate is to sit glumly at the end of the bench with little hope of playing time. Inclusion, I thought. Nice touch.

As his team’s lead increased in the second half from 10 to 15 to 20 points, the coach relaxed. His urgings diminished. He got acquainted with his chair. He cleared the bench. Victory was at hand. The final? The Eagles 48, the San Diego High School Cavers 26. A rout.

When Alex joined us in the sparsely populated bleachers after the game, he was smiling beatifically. He was calm and in the mood for assessing where he and his team was. He spoke of what he sees as the triple demands of his job: managing egos, keeping kids motivated, and getting them to play together. He spoke at length and with feeling since these were things he had clearly given much thought to. And, how sweet to see all these challenges overcome all at one time and with his parents in the stands watching closely.

Where did this wisdom come from in this 24 year old? How did he get from “there” to “here”? Why is it that parents are so often taken by surprise by the progress of their kids? Maybe, I thought, when they don’t live next door anymore, the progressions are all the more dramatic and more pronounced because you don’t see the day to day growth they experience. It is incredibly uplifting to watch.

The evening for us was alternately thrilling, amusing and always endearing. We were not the only ones who were pleased. The Eagles’ varsity coach came over to Alex after the game, congratulating him. “This was all you,” he said.

High praise, indeed.