There are memorable moments every preseason--moments where athletes push past their self imposed limits, where they gain muscle and watch with wondering eyes in the mirror as biceps bulge, where sweat is left in puddles at their feet as they run past the final line in suicides, and when a leader is formed by a moment of pure passion.

While I could write about any of the above with a certain amount of awe and pride, I want to share with you the moment when a leader was born.

Last week as we were running timed suicides, the players kept forgetting to touch the lines. We believe every line should be touched because it is a sign of doing the little things right. We can't allow small things to slip. Small things become larger events and we want our players to live up to high expectations.

With each misstep, the players suffered a consequence of a minute of planks or a minute of boats. Both of these exercises are tough enough on their own but within the confines of fatigue, they become much harder. Holding a plank after sprinting all out feels like having an elephant sit on your back as you hold yourself completely level on a horizontal plane.

We had gone through about seven of these when Lindsey Kentner decided enough was enough. Before I continue with this tale, you should know a little bit of history about Ms. Kentner. She is a level-headed, intelligent and calm player who in the midst of the greatest game will never blink an eye. She is not one to cheer or pound her chest or do cartwheels even after she makes the most impossible of shots. She just shoulder shrugs and sighs as if this is an every day experience.

In fact, prior to this moment I am about to divulge I don't believe I ever witnessed more of an emotion than a slight smile curling on the edge of her lips. Oh, there was the one time when she mildly raised a fist in the air after hitting the game-winning three point shot. That was an extreme display of emotion for her.

Then the improbable happened. She exploded. She ranted and raved. She told her teammates in the most passionate tone that their behaviors were simply unacceptable. It was not the single curse word she let slip which made her point; it was her passion. She didn't just want her teammates to come up to the next level; she implored them to get there. NOW.

It was beautiful--such an act outside of who she was that I almost called practice right then and there. She had to reach so deep inside herself, to touch a place where she never went to get there. This is what we want from our players--to reach out and touch a place inside themselves they didn't know existed. This is growth. This is expansion. This is success.

ONE HEART. ONE DREAM.