Coach in the Stands

One of the benefits of coaching at a larger school is stadium size. Not just for how many fans you can fit in the stands, though that can always be advantageous. No: I’m talking about size, the distance from the field to the sideline, from the sideline to the track, from the track to the fence, and from the fence to the stands. The greater that size, that distance, the more secure coaches feel about being able to do their jobs. See, everyone has an opinion. Your average dad in the stands played 3-4 years of Varsity Football back in the good ole’ days. They’ve been fans of football their whole lives. They’ve had a son, or sons, that they’ve been grooming for this moment since they left the game a decade or more ago.

And they know (repeat: KNOW) they can do your job better than you.

In my first coaching stop, we had a small-college-caliber track and field set-up around the football field, as well as huge stands, so if I truly sucked at my job, who could tell? I couldn’t, because I was far away enough that I couldn’t hear the complaints and cursings of the armchair coaches in the stands. My next stop, a much smaller school. But again, big stadium and track, and we were pretty darn good, so not much grumblings. I was pretty lucky for the bulk of my career. Finally, I came to a lovely, tiny, sweetheart of a rural school in the middle of nowhere; it had much in the way of history, but not an overwhelming run of athletic success. No track. No sideline to speak of. The distance between the coaching box on the sideline and the first row of fans in the stands was less than ten feet.

And they made sure that we heard every drop of their discontent.

Every time we called a passing play on first down, we heard the grumblings. Every time that we called a screen that didn’t pop, we heard the grumblings. Every missed blitz, every sack given up, every whiffed tackle: they made their displeasure very well-known. After every home loss, the parents would walk out onto the field. They’d stalk the position coaches. They’d wait for the head coach outside of his office. A school board member cornered me once and told me I was on a game-by-game notice.

The truth is coaching kids is hard. You have to have the X’s and the O’s, but if you don’t have the Jimmy’s and the Joe’s to execute the plays, sometimes winning just isn’t in the cards. I’ve coached really tough and intelligent kids who gave me their all, and then lost to teams that are terribly coached but have 2-3 exceptional athletes who just flat overpower you. But something that every team, good or bad, skilled or not, well-coached or no, has in common? The parents are certain that they could do your job better than you can. It is an unavoidable part of the game.

The same is true for parenting. One advantage that Anna and I had before the twins came was time: time to plan, time to organize, and time to get our proverbial ducks in a row. In that time, a great deal of information, both solicited and not, was thrown our way. Advice on this, advice on that. Ways to plan for future doctors, ways to prepare future blue-chippers, ways to prepare for baby evangelical preachers. Ways to save for college funds, trust funds, toddler investment portfolios. Ways to discipline a baby with words, ways to discipline them with belts, ways to not discipline them at all and let the baby figure things out on their own. Anna became a part of several social media groups and forums; some told her to raise our babies up in the church and they would become well-adjusted, Godly men. Others told us to avoid churches at all cost and that we were no better than a cult if we indoctrinated them into organized religion.

Again, everyone is an expert.

Anna, in particular, got really irked by the “fed is best” movement on social media. In this particular movement, it became very important that a new mother feed her new child in whatever way suits both of their needs. We can all agree: this is an admirable trait. Nothing controversial here. No hot takes. If a mother cannot breastfeed a child, then get the child fed in whatever way you can. If you can breastfeed but you simply choose not to, for whatever reason, just get the child fed. No worries. A hungry child sucks, we can all agree. But the focus on the movement in particular was that we should stop shaming mothers who choose not to breastfeed and accept that breastfeeding is not the best way to feed your child, and instead, feeding the child in any way possible is what is actually best.

Um… what?

Every scientific study in existence regarding child rearing and the benefits of breastfeeding shows that feeding a child the milk from its mother is, without a doubt, the most beneficial thing for the child. Now, what if the mother doesn’t produce breast milk? What if the milk is unhealthy in some way? There are any number of health-related impediments that would keep a mother from being able to breastfeed. And there are plenty of new mothers who, for one reason or another, willfully choose not to breastfeed, and I’ll shout it from the rooftops that there is nothing wrong with that either. There are plenty of good formulas and nice supplements that make the differences between mother’s milk and a synthetic replacement almost negligible.

But to then stand there and tell me that breastfeeding is not what’s best for the child, simply because you chose an alternative, is ludicrous. What’s best for cardiovascular health? Running. But me? I’m overweight, have shoddy knees, and chronic problems with my foot. Running is not an option for me. So, instead, I powerwalk or ride an elliptical. I still get my cardio in the best way I can for me, and my doctor stays off my case. No issues. But what if, then, I go and stand at the finish line of the Boston Marathon and chastise the runners as they cross the finish, telling them that running is overrated and any and all physical exertion is equally best? My powerwalking to the “Journey Best-Of Collection” is just as healthy as the 26+ miles you just ran. Don’t shame me because I choose not to run. Movement is Best!

Everyone has an opinion, and most are willing to offer those opinions freely. What you have to do, both as a parent and as a football coach, is find a way to weed out the good advice from the bad. I once coached a team to a state championship using a Flexbone Triple Option. For those of you that don’t know the nuances of football offensive theory, this is a very specific, unique offense that is EXTREMELY run-heavy; you may pass the ball only two or three times a game, and you’re running the ball every other time. In the two weeks of prep time before the big game, through suggestions from coaches that had no clue what we were doing, my head coach saw fit to start signaling in plays (all season, to that point, we had huddled after every play), and the person who sent the signals in was not me, the actual playcaller. Instead, the guy who signaled the plays in started signaling in random four-receiver pass plays because that’s what he wanted. That was his advice. We went scoreless in the first half and never recovered, even after I took back the reigns and put 24 points up in the second half.

What I learned most about building and installing offenses, and about football in general, is that you have to have a system and you have to commit and be true to that system. Do what’s right for you, for your talent, and commit to doing that thing really, really well. Stewart Young, my coaching idol, was a defensive coach who believed intently on the 3-3 Stack, a complex defense that has some weaknesses with strong running attacks. Whenever we faced teams with a heavy run game, every coach in the stands insisted that Stewart abandon the 3-3 Stack, but he would always double down. He would make adjustments here and there for situations, but he was always true to his system, and he is now the winningest coach in that school’s history. People doubted, and people criticized, but he never backed down and he was always successful as a result.

With parenting, the same is true: find the system that works for you and commit to it. It isn’t a one-size-fits-all, and what works for you may not work for somebody else, and vice-versa. My wife and I are devout Christians, so the influence of Christ and the teachings of the church were a major priority for us. As such, the design of the nuclear family, especially the kind of family spelled out through biblical teachings, is extremely important. What did that mean? It meant I had to hang up those really immature inclinations of mine and be the spiritual leader in my household. Anna has been a Christian a lot longer than me. She has been a biblical scholar far longer than me. She can quote bible verse off the dome with ease; I cannot. But the Bible tells me that I need to step up and be the spiritual man of the house, and I do. The Bible tells me not to spare the proverbial rod, so I don’t. I maintain discipline in my house, strictly by some standards. Anna, despite being intellectually stronger than me in every possible respect, ultimately bends to my decision. Why? Because the Bible tells her to, and she is mature enough to check her pride at the door and follow those teachings.

So that’s the system that we use in our parenting; it’s our parental equivalent of the Flexbone Triple. Our marriage is the system, and it’s a pretty solid system. So I understand that I am essentially about to do what I’m complaining that everyone else does: I’m about to offer you parenting advise. But it isn’t directed at you, per se. Rather, this is what works for Anna and I. If you want to copy it, go for it.

Number 1: we put Christ in front of everything. I understand that this is difficult for non-believers to get behind, but the Bible is like a cheat-code for life. It tells us how to be good people. It tells us how to prioritize a family. It tells us right from wrong and leaves very few shades of gray for misinterpretation. I know that people have been spurned a few times by organized religion, and that’s unfortunate. If anyone has given you the wrong idea about Christianity, understand this: Jesus Christ is a God of love. Period. And just as love is the center of my household, so too is Jesus Christ.

Number 2: our marriage comes first. That’s another often overlooked biblical principle. Your mom, dad, in-laws, kids, grandkids, whatever… it all comes second to your spouse. I was a child of divorce, and so was Anna. As such, we both don’t want to put that on our boys. They shouldn’t have to endure that. So Anna comes first. I will never cheat on my wife, and I have full faith that she will show me that same respect. Why? Because it has just as much to do with how much we love our boys as it does with how much we love each other. It doesn’t matter how much I drive her crazy, and I do. She will put up with my nonsense because, in the end, Luke and Logan need to know what a healthy, loving relationship looks like. And sometimes that involves biting your tongue when all you want to do is scream obscenities.

Number 3: discipline has to be a top priority. In coaching circles, in teaching circles, structure is key. They’ll never admit it, but young people CRAVE discipline. They don’t know it, and they’ll deny it if you bring it to their attention, but deep down, they need to know what their boundaries and expectations are. They want to know what they can or can’t get away with. They want to know what success looks like and if they have what it takes to get there. They need to know. So if the field goal posts are always moving, how will they know what a field goal is? They need structure and clear guidelines, and just as important: they need consistency. If they perform an action, good or bad, they need a clear understanding of what the end result will be. If the repercussions for their actions are random or sporadic, you can never properly show them what their actions should be. You miss a block: 5 Up-Downs. You miss a tackle: 5 Up-Downs. You drop a pass, jump offsides, forget your assignment: 5 Up-Downs. You turn the ball over or get a flagrant 15-yard penalty? You’d do best to not let me catch you on that sideline.

With Luke and Logan, they understand what they need to do and what the expectation is, and they’re all the better for it. Before Anna and I had kids, we witnessed all of this in one of my best friends, James. With his wife Alicia, together they have seven kids. Seven. James is a police officer, so it shouldn’t come as much of a surprise, but he’s a little tough on them. Like, militant-tough. He barks orders at them, shouts and gets them in line, and when I first started seeing this, I was a little skeptical. Wow, I thought, James is a little too rough on these kids. Ease up, soldier. When I voiced my opinion to Anna, she put it into perspective, reminding me that with seven kids, you have to set the tone early so that they know how to tow that line.

James continued, and over time as I saw those seven kids grow and develop, James had to be less and less militant. He didn’t yell as much. He didn’t bark like he used to. And I noticed why: the kids knew what the expectations were, they knew what the rules were, and they knew how they had to act in order to be successful in everything they had to do. And they did it. It wasn’t that James had lowered his expectations or standards, but rather, because the kids knew what they had to do, they all did it, and they were all happier and more successful together as a result. We’re talking some of the best behaved, most respectful, most diligent kids you’ll ever meet. They live in a household full of chaos with a new little kid appearing every few years, but they had the system in place. Now James could just be “Dad” instead of “Master General.” He could be jovial and fun and proud, because he already did the hard work of teaching them how to be successful; he now had the opportunity to sit back and watch his kids succeed. And what they’ve built is one of the most beautiful families you can imagine.

Very recently, I went on a vacation with Anna and, having left the kids at home with the grandparents, we soon found ourselves missing our little boys dearly. We kept running into another family: a man and woman with a newborn and what looked like a 4-year-old son. This son, every time we ran into them on this trip, was a nightmare. He screamed about everything. He was never satisfied. He acted out, hit his parents. He told them no often. He had temper tantrums, laying on the floor and screaming. In public. Often. On one such occasion, when the son repeatedly told his mother “No” regarding some innocuous request, Anna leaned in and said, “If that were Logan telling me no, you’d be snatching his little butt up right now.” She said this with a grin, with pride. She said it as if to say: “The reason the boys don’t act like that is because they know what happens to them if they try.”

They don’t act like that because they’ve been taught what to do and what not to do, and because we’ve been consistent in showing them what will happen when they make the right decision, as well as what will happen when they choose poorly.

What stands out to me, what remains from my encounter with this family even today, is the look on the parents’ faces. The father looked broken, regretful, unhappy. The mother looked tired, resentful, unfulfilled. They both looked at their monster of a child (sorry; that was a little more honest than I needed to be) and wondered where they went wrong, and that has to be a terrible feeling. And I think about James, and the wonderful, proud look of content he has on his face as he spends all of his free time with his kids. And I see my wife, and how joyful she is when we’re out, in public, at a restaurant with the twins, and they’re happy, expressive, respectful, and pleasant to everyone around us. People look at us and think, “What a lovely family.”

I know people think that because, on that same vacation, there was another large family in the main dining hall; there was a mom and dad, an uncle, some grandparents, and in the middle of the table, a small 6-year-old girl. Each night, she showed off another cute dress, and she would joke with her daddy, and sit on grandpa’s lap, make faces at her uncle, and chat non-stop with her mommy and grandma. On that last night, I stopped at their table and told them that every night, I marveled at how wonderfully behaved she was, how cute she was, and how beautiful their whole family was. It’s something to be proud of, and you could tell they were. But it is also something that takes time and effort. No doubt, their system is strong.

A coach that I idolized once had a policy with his drills: every athlete would start with his toes behind the starting line with the left foot forward, weight on the forward ball of the foot. He’d start every drill with, “Straight lines, left foot on the line!” Now, this is not indicative of common football practice; rarely will you start with the left foot on the line. Even wide receivers are usually taught to line up with their inside foot on the line. So one day, one of the players asked him directly: “What’s up with the whole left foot on the line thing? How does that help us?” And Coach answered him as directly as he could.

“We got six teams in our region. They are all at practice right now. They’re all sweating, bleeding, hurting, just like you. Some of them are a lot bigger than us. Some of them are a lot faster. Some of them have more players than we do, more talent across the board. But in the end, if you measure what we got and what we do against what they got and what they do, the differences are meaningless. As a whole, all six teams are gonna look very similar. So what’s the difference between the teams who win and the teams who lose? You know how they say ‘football is a game of inches’? In the end, it all comes down to the little things. We’re all about the same size, speed. We’re all out here working, sacrificing. We all pray before every game to the same god for the same victory. So winning is all about focusing on the tiny differences, the little things, the details. Who’s gonna attack with the correct foot? Who’s gonna punch with the correct hand? Who’s gonna come off lower? Who’s gonna stay onsides when the quarterback goes with a hard count? The man who’s gonna win is the man who does all the little things right, all the time. He practices the little things. Again and again. He focuses on the details and practices the details. He comes off on the right foot, at the right height, with the right form, attacking the right assignment. Every time. You know who knows all the details, the right things to do? Me. I’m your coach. I’ll tell you what to do, how to do it, and how to win. If you can do what I tell you to do, how I tell you to do it, when I tell you to do it, we’ll win. So you know what you need to do?”

“Put you left foot on that line.”

You want to be a good parent? Show your kids how to be successful. Then celebrate their successes with them. My kids are awesome; they were awesome before I taught them anything. They’re awesome with or without me. All I did was show them how to be successful so that their awesomeness could shine through. They’ll take it from there.