Football is “Hey Coach”

“Get a sip,” I say.

The boys run off to the water stations.

I stand alone.

On the turf.

In the sun.

Baking.

My mind wandering…

I’m not sure about that drill anymore. We’ve got to do more tackling. Is it 7 v 7 or Team next? Damn, it’s hot. Why does it hurt so much to bend down and pick up that cone? I need to stretch more; is Hurricane Debby making landfall today, tomorrow, or the next day? I’ll have to cut the grass before it does. At least I will not have to water the garden. Is it recycling this week? Do I have a book on hold at the library that needs picking up? I’ve got to cancel that doctor’s appointment. The start of the semester is just a couple weeks away and I’ve still got to set my office hours, make my syllabi, and email my first-year advisees. Oh my god, Dillon is heading off to college. How will the house feel without him in it? Damn, the music that coach is playing really sucks. The boys seem to like it. But it’s just a bunch of mumbling over the same damn beat. Give me some Whitesnake! There’s that hawk again. I hope the neighbor doesn’t cut down another tree. I have to pick up dog food and gas up the truck. The Middle East, South Sudan, Ukraine, and China bullying the Philippines in the South China Sea. I wonder what the medal count will be…

“Hey Coach.”

I look up.

My players are standing in front of me.

And just like that, whatever whirlwind of thoughts, emotions, responsibilities I was spinning in, whatever internal world I was living in, I am pulled into the now.

Whatever happened yesterday or the day before that, whatever is on my to-do list or calendar, I am pulled into the moment. This moment is all that matters.

The world of sports is often romanticized for its on-field heroics and triumphant victories. However, there is a deeper layer to the role of a coach that extends beyond the realm of Xs and Os, wins and losses. When a player utters those two words “Hey Coach” it is more than just a request for guidance or a call to action.

It’s a sacred summons.

Upon hearing “Hey Coach,” my personal issues, politics, and preferences fade away. The focus shifts entirely to the young person decked out in pads, looking like a superhero standing before me. I am asked to change roles. I am asked to discard my smaller-self. I am asked to elevate my consciousness.

Metaphorically, I am asked to embody the role of a wise mentor and a guiding presence. I am asked to channel Yoda, Mr. Miyagi, Morpheus, Dumbledore, Obi-Wan, Professor X, Gandalf, and Mickey Goldmill in Rocky’s corner.

I am asked to don a robe, wear a knit cap, or place sunglasses over my eyes.

I am commanded by the football gods to embody their ideals and virtues. I am commanded to use football as a platform for instilling values and mindsets that will serve my players long after their playing days are over.

This is the true essence of coaching: to be a beacon of guidance and anchor of support in a world often fraught with uncertainty and turmoil one “Hey Coach” at a time.

I look at my boys.

“It’s time for Team D!”

“Make sure you get your reps. Do not wait. Take them.”

“Hustle on and off of the field.”

“Remember, this field is sacred space! When we cross that line, we are different. When we cross that line, we are no longer our everyday selves. We are our better selves!”

“Now, give me my number ones.”

And just like that we are off sprinting to the middle of the field.

And just like that the chorus of football practice begins: the clash of helmets and pads, the sound of cleats digging into the turf, and sharp barks from coaches signaling the start or end of a play. The shouting of coverages, adjustments, and formations. The smacking of hands and slapping of helmets in celebration. Coaching commands echo off the aluminum bleachers:

Let’s Go! Let’s Go! Let’s Go!

Swarm! Swarm! Swarm!

Hey! Hey! Hey!

I love you and you’re super talented, but if you don’t swarm, you will not play.

Hey!

Don’t turn your back.

Hey!

Don’t look away.

Eyes on me.

Now, go touch that running back.

I don’t care if the play is over.

I don’t care if he is all the way over there.

Do your job.

Do what you promised your boys you would do.

Go touch him.

Good!

Now, get back here.

Go again.

That’s it! That’s it! That’s it!

Yes! Yes! Yes!

Go again.

Get ready.

Pass! Pass! Pass!

No! No! No!

Come here.

I love the aggressiveness. But let me tell you what you did wrong. It was all in the placement of your hand. It’s the small things that make the difference. On this field and in life.

Remember that.

Good work today.

Get a sip.

+++

This post is part of my latest book project titled: “Football is _______”

Every two weeks, I’ll fill in the above blank with a word or phrase and tell a story. I’ll do that for 52 weeks and then compile the posts into a book of essays.

I’d love for you to join me on this journey and share your thoughts or stories along the way. If you enjoyed this post, please consider sharing it with others who might appreciate it as well.

Stay tuned for future updates on instagram (@blucollarprof).

Read previous posts in this series.

Thanks for reading! – shawn