Few people have the ability to shape a life…for better or for worse…like a coach.
I’ve had the awesome chance to coach both my daughter Brynnan and son Taye for the past decade, but sadly those days are over. Brynn has moved on to non-athletic pursuits and Taye has outgrown me. That said, I couldn’t be more thankful for the coaches and teachers who are now pouring into my kids. They are growing, maturing, and flourishing.
Consider this example:
Last year, just before 7th grade, Taye broke a bone in his hand just before the school year started. The year prior in 6th grade, he broke his leg as summer was ending.
So when he told me he was just going to be a manager last year, I understood. Football is a physical game, and my boy is…shall we say…injury prone.
He did a good job last year, but I think he realized the error of his way about midway through the year. WATCHING football isn’t nearly as fun as PLAYING it. We talked it over, and it was 100% his idea: he was going to try out for 8th grade. And he had his sights set on “A” team.
Considering he hadn’t played since 5th grade youth league, I tried to temper his enthusiasm a bit. “You’ll have to work really hard this summer, and even then, you know, it might not happen. All you can do is your best.”
He nodded in agreement.
And then it happened again: a severe sprain just weeks before school started derailed his plans. X-rays were negative, but he was on crutches again. And more than that, his spirits were crushed.
The thing about a 13 year-old is they are hot or cold. Their developing little pre-frontal cortexes don’t know much about shades of gray. Taye was angry. Taye was sad. But most of all, he was scared.
“Why does this keep happening to me?” he spat through hot, bitter tears.
“I bet I probably won’t even make the team,” he said dejectedly.
I feared he would be right. His injury caused him to miss all the extra conditioning leading up to the school year. And since he hadn’t played the year before, most of the coaches didn’t really know what to expect.
He managed to get cleared in time for the start of the season, but was still a bit gimpy. We did rehab together and I tried to prepare him mentally and physically for the next few weeks.
As the start of the season drew nearer, I got a text. “Dad! I made A team!!!” was the uncharacteristically wordy message. Usually he communicates in grunt and emoji. But he was super excited…and a little afraid.
It seemed the coaches hadn’t decided completely on who would be on “A” team and who would be on “B.” Still somewhat of an unknown quantity, the name “BROOKS” was on the list for starting center on the A team–with a catch: a question mark.
Although he didn’t tell me until later, the roster that had his name on it actually had a question mark next to his name.
How’s that for instilling confidence?
Had I known about it, the old me would have probably complained about it either in private or otherwise. I’d like to think the new me would just stay quiet and let it play out over time. At any rate, Taye played. He started.
It was a little shaky at first. As a center on a shotgun-only middle school team with a QB who is a bit shorter than average, the pressure to make a good snap is fairly high. He accounted for at a couple of bad snaps and turnovers in the first game. But he kept working.
Every game he got a little better. By the third game he had transformed himself into a steady presence in the middle of the O-line. No blown snaps and no penalties. He also got some action on kick-off special teams. And that’s when it happened.
Taye has thoroughly enjoyed all his coaches this year for different reasons, but when Coach Culpepper called him over, he wasn’t sure what to think. After all, he’d played pretty well. He hadn’t missed any practices. And he’s always been a great teammate. Was he getting demoted to B team despite all that progress?
Coach Culpepper showed him that same roster with that ominous question mark still tauntingly resting beside his last name.
“I thought you needed to see this,” Coach said.
Just then, he scratched a big exclamation point over the top of where that question mark had been.
I’ve never met Coach Culpepper, but from the bottom of my heart, I thank God for putting him in my son’s path. With that simple act, he breathed life into my son.
Too often, I think we as coaches and teachers think that our role is to correct and to cue. But as my son’s coach showed me, sometimes the best approach is to simply celebrate.
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