Coaching

A Coach's Story

I've been coaching since I was in the 9th grade. Back then I was coaching 5th and 6th graders playing flag football. Today, I'm coaching roughly the same age group in baseball and soccer. I really love coaching, the challenges it presents and the thrill of seeing the players make dramatic improvements over the course of every season I've ever coached.

Too many coaches are focused on winning. Winning is always a thrill, but that's not my goal as a coach. I'm there to make sure everyone on the team is having fun. As coaches we are trying to get every player to play their best possible game and the idea of "sitting" the weaker players in order to win just seems wrong at this young age.

Coaching one's own son introduces a number of additional challenges. No coach I've ever seen does a great job of coaching his own son or daughter. We see our kids differently than those other little buggers running around out there. We either expect too much or too little but rarely do we treat them just like any old player. And for some reason most of us behave as if our kids' play is a reflection on our abilities as a father and a coach.

At the end of every season the San Carlos Little League participates in a number of tournaments against other cities. In Scott's Minor League Division I met with my fellow coaches one evening to select the league's All Stars.

The process for selecting the team was as follows:

There are 13 teams in the league and only 12 All Stars can be selected for the team.
Each coach recommends players from his team, but coaches canNOT vote for players on their own team.
Coaches take a series of votes, players with a majority are elected to the team. The process is repeated until all 12 slots have been filled.

There were two players on my team that I hoped would make it to the All Stars--one was my own child. I felt he was a true All Star and yet felt unsure about how to represent that to the other coaches.

All of the coaches who proceeded me seemed to take a soft sell approach. They introduced a small handful of All Star potentials, recounted their strengths and overall gave a very balanced presentation. By contrast, I sold hard.

"Scott Harris, in my opinion, is the best pitcher in the league," I declared. Heads snapped to attention at the force of my claims. Clearly my fellow coaches in the room were weighing my credibility. Was I a good judge of my own son's ability? Would I sound so strong in my conviction if it wasn't my own child I was speaking of? Did I really just say that my kid was better than all the other coach's kids sitting in the room? Then I went on: "Scott throws the ball harder than any pitcher I've seen, he has an off-speed pitch, plays smart and is cool under pressure."

After my sales job, the remaining coaches seemed to be slightly more aggressive in their presentations, but no one crossed the line that I crossed. As the voting began, I started to get nervous. Maybe I hurt his chances by arguing so strongly. Maybe I insulted others. Maybe my impressions were tarnished because he is my kid.

Scott was voted into the All Stars that night, but somehow the result made me more nervous. "Ok," I imagined the league officials thinking, "let's see just how credible Harris is. We'll put his son through the paces and see just how good this kid is or possibly how delusional his father is!"

Scott began a week of practice leading up to the weekend's tournament. The temperature soared in San Carlos that week and made it difficult to get in as much practice as the coaches would have liked. I quizzed Scott after practice every day trying to get a sense for what his coaches thought of his play. With a team of 12 All Stars who typically pitched and played short stop all year it would be tough to relegate some to the outfield or the bench during post-season play.

Apparently Scott impressed his coaches. As we arrived on the day of the tournament Scott was told he would be the starting pitcher. I was relieved that others had seen his talent and yet I was now even more nervous that he would be tested against some of the Peninsula's best players.

Scott, unlike his father, is one cool cucumber. Scott stood tall on the mound with a look of self-confidence that I was lacking as I watched from the stands. Scott has consistently stayed calm and kept his concentration high no matter what seems to happen around him. This day would be no different.

Scott fired his heat and for the most part did a great job of keeping the ball in the strike zone. Unlike play during the regular season, he was supported by an amazing defensive array of talent. So while the All Stars on the other team successfully put aluminum on the ball, Scott's team was able to record out after out.

After three innings, Scott had allowed two runs. (Most of us considered one of those runs unearned.) More importantly, when Scott was pulled from the game (three innings is typically the max) his team was ahead. That lead would slip and they fell behind by two runs, but in the bottom of the final inning Scott's team slugged in three runs to win the opening round. The next day they took a three to three tie into extra innings to see the opposing team score the winning run after sliding under the tag in a play at the plate. No shame there.

I now know that I'm not the only person who thinks Scott is one of the best pitchers in the league, but more importantly I recognize that I'm quickly outgrowing my role as his coach. Scott will likely be stepping up to Majors next year where competition is the name of the game and sadly I think that my brand of coaching doesn't work there.

As my boys have aged, I've relished in their progression through life, enjoying each new phase more than the phase before. This is the first time I remember being a little bit sad that my boys are growing older. Kevin played his last Little League game this year and I won't get a chance to coach Scott again. I pushed hard to help Scott get recognized for his talents, and yet I pushed him out of my coaching nest at the same time. While Scott and Kevin will move on, my coaching days are done.

June 25, 2006