The first time I coached a sporting event, I was just out of high school, in that nebulous time period between graduating and heading to college. I was playing summer baseball for the Essig Bluejays and my dad was the coach.
Dad wasn’t feeling well one Sunday afternoon, so I took on managerial duties. And everything went swimmingly at first! Every pitching change I made, every pinch hitter or steal I called for worked well, and we had a lead over our rivals from New Ulm. Then I made a bad play at first base and things unraveled to the point of chalking up a loss.
Regardless of the outcome, I was hooked, though. I had an inkling I might want to try coaching already. Based on the amount of time I spent on the bench in high school sports, I had gained a different appreciation for the games I enjoyed. As part of my education at Winona State, I got my coaching licensure and even got a chance to coach three different basketball teams for local organizations.
In total, I’ve coached about 40 seasons of basketball and baseball over the years. I’ve probably coached 1,000 or more young people in those seasons. And now I’m done.
My coaching career didn’t end quite as expected. After coaching many years in our junior high system, I had stepped back to focus more on coaching my own kids’ teams, sticking to basketball with Jayna and baseball with Anton. This was going to be my last summer of coaching my son’s baseball team since that group would move on to Legion baseball after this year, and I could move on to a chair to watch or to the booth to run the scoreboard and announce.
And then this hated pandemic arrived. When the Quad Cities Baseball Association made the decision in June not to move forward with any attempts to play a season, I was on board. If you looked at all the stipulations, it seemed like a lot to place on our volunteer coaches, and there was some concern about everyone following the rules. (Which is funny, because I umpired in Owatonna, where most people DIDN’T follow the guidelines.)
After that, I realized the coaching part of my life was done. It felt a lot like letting the air out of a balloon slowly. When the virus hit and life shut down, it seemed possible that summer would bring the resumption of activities, but the more things got cancelled, the less air that balloon had. It’s really quite disappointing. I had planned on enjoying every minute I was on a ballfield this summer, win or lose.
Now, I never say never. Is there some small chance I would pick up my whistle or grab a clipboard again? Sure, but it’s doubtful. I’ve realized how much coaching has taken out of me and just how tired I am in recent years. I still enjoy teaching young people the finer parts of the game. If someone asked me to help at practice at times or coach first base, I’d probably take them up. But I don’t think I could do an entire season again.
And that’s the right time to depart. I can’t imagine never being part of youth sports, but I think I’ll stick to officiating and announcing. But don’t worry, I do plenty of coaching from the scorer’s table or crow’s nest!
I used to want to be a varsity coach, but I’m glad that never happened; it probably would have shortened the time I coached. I see how much work those folks put in, and I have realized how much I enjoyed working with the younger groups and getting at the fundamentals. I was umpiring this summer when a coach thanked me for talking to the pitchers about technique and some of the illegal things they were doing. It was 12- and 13-year-olds, so I wasn’t calling balks, but it was important for them to know for the future. Hopefully, I can keep coaching in those small ways.
I really appreciate all the kids who put up with me over the years. I know not everyone enjoyed me on the sideline or the dugout, but that’s with anything. I absolutely love seeing former players and talking about our seasons together. It’s amazing some of the really specific memories they have, and we’ll often rehash entire games from years ago.
I still have every scorebook for every team. I love statistics, so I have kept track of those over the years. Anybody who walks in my classroom and looks on my Panther board will see the lists of record holders for my teams, pictures of my school teams, and even lists of sibling combinations who played for me. I’ve now been here long enough that some of my students are finding their parents in pictures!
Coaching is so rewarding! It’s a form of teaching, and when you see the buy-in from a kid, and they show improvement or master a new skill, it’s the best feeling ever. Watching a kid make their first basket or get their first hit and seeing the support from their teammates are some of my best memories.
Having supportive parents is such a key to coaches. I’ve had some great support over the years, not 100%, but, you know. Some of my favorite seasons were ones where we might not have had a great record, but the attitudes of the kids and the parents made the season successful.
So now all the air is out of that balloon. I’m not going to put air back into it. But I will put it on a shelf with all my great memories. And my whistle.
Word of the Week: This week’s word is concupiscence, which means strong desire, as in, “The team’s concupiscence for a win helped them battle back from a huge deficit to pull off the thrilling victory.” Impress your friends and confuse your enemies!