Sunday, February 24, 2013
Coaching is an act of love
Let me be completely honest, I love the sport of volleyball. I think it is a fantastic sport for young ladies to learn about teamwork, goal setting and dedication. I enjoy the strategies that can be employed to obtain wins and I love the off season weight room workouts. I love spending time with the coaching staff as we are all close friends. I love learning new plays and creating new drills (or researching for other ones) to utilize in practice. I love the excitement before our first match. I love the team building activities that we used for our girls, like kayaking, as they were literally taken out of their element and forced to work with other girls they may not know very well. I loved it.
What I didn't love, was the amount of time I was spending away from my family. I missed my first born's first steps, I missed putting her to bed and reading her books at night. I missed family dinners and having in depth conversations with my husband about school/learning/politics/ANYTHING.
On top of that, I did not particularly enjoy, was the unrealistic expectations from not the student athletes, but their parents. I was spending more time with other people's kids than my own family.
I get it. Parents want the best for the kids. And they should have high expectations of their daughters as well as their daughter's coaches. As a coach, I too have expectations for the girls as well as for myself. I took my coaching career very seriously. I felt that because I was the head coach and because I was the one who developed the carefully scripted practice plans, that I was the one who needed to watch film and complete stats. I was the one who turned in the line up so I needed to be the one who analyzed the data. I also needed to be present at every off season workout, because the kids work harder when they know the coach is watching. I also needed to run fundraisers and a little kids camp, because there was equipment we needed to purchase for the program, and I was raised to work for my money, not expect a handout.
Because of those self imposed expectations, I was working like a dog. For less than $2/hr. How many people do you know who would ride home on a bus only to get home by 11pm to eat leftovers or drive thru fast food only to plop down and watch that night's film so they could work on practice plans for the next day? How many of you could stand to hear your 3 yr old daughter cry on the weekends when you had to leave for a tournament, as she wailed, "No mommy! No more volleyball!" My husband couldn't even attend matches this past season because our daughter would see me and attempt to run across the court since you were rarely seen at home much.
Reminder: You get paid $2/hr.
Here's the thing that might surprise some of you. Coaching is not about the money; it's about the kids. It's about teaching them that hard work does pay off. It's about learning how to fall, time and time again, only to get back up and work harder the next time. It's about sweat and tears, collateral that you pay in the weight room because you want to jump higher, hit harder and be injury free for the season. It's about teaching the girls the art of the game, how to love it and work hard while having fun. It is about winning, but at what cost? Many retired coaches and military generals will tell you that if you get people to respect you, to believe in you, they will do just about anything for/with you.
It's not about implementing a year round program because that's what the parents want. It's not about breaking Ohio High School rules to have more contact time than what is permitted. I love that because other coaches break rules (either coaching other sports or coaching at other schools), now we are expected to do the same, in order to be competitive within our conference. I understand that policing every sport at every high school is next to impossible, but I was taught that rules are rules.
The girls don't need a year round program because the majority of them already participate in USA volleyball/Jr Olympics during the off season (from December until June). Some of the kids even play another sport besides volleyball (gasp!) and some, believe it or not, have jobs outside of school, not to mention they are also taking AP courses and are involved in National Honor Society/DECA/yearbook. Kids need time to be kids, and this year round expectation is not only contributing to our children to being good at one single thing (whatever happened to being multifaceted?), but now we are seeing an abundance of overuse injuries in the shoulders and knees. I discovered that I was a rarity when it comes to my coaching philosophy because I wanted my girls to play other sports. By playing basketball or softball or running track, the girls were staying active but using other muscles that they didn't utilize while playing volleyball. It prevented injuries.
I also find it absurd that coaches are expected to go ape shit when an official makes a bad call. The thing is, I have been up on the official's stand for 6 yrs, so I know what it's like up there. Referee's cannot see everything and not once have I ever changed a call simply because a coach was berating me. Besides, what example does that set for my girls? And if I do go bananas over a call, I distract my girls from doing the job I have trained them to do. They need to feel in control of their own match, and shouldn't feel that what they are doing doesn't matter because the official will call in the other team's favor.
I didn't coach to be respected by parents. I didn't coach to be liked by kids. I certainly didn't coach because of the illustrious salary. I coached because I am a teacher at heart, and I enjoyed sharing my knowledge, passion and experience with student athletes in a sport that I hold very dear.
I am sad to have ended my career, because it definitely didn't end the way I had planned or expected it to. But I needed to start listening to my own advice: family comes first. No amount of minimal salary can replace seeing my kids' first steps or having my daughter wrap her arms around my neck and say, "I love you, Mommy. No more volleyball."