For this blog I would like to play homage to Ali Tobias or Ali T or Al or "A" as we lovingly refer to her. Around Christmas time, Ali came to the coaching staff with a dilemma. She needed to take a Praxis exam in order to graduate. The only dates available for the exam were the same dates we played games.
Now Ali is an amazing woman. She has more than once taken 21 credits in a semester and still achieved a perfect 4.0 GPA. Last semester she took 11 class hours while student teaching (a total of 29 credits) and playing basketball. Even with all her super hero skills, I did not know how she was going to take an exam on the same date we were supposed to be playing. This was a task even The Dynamic Duo would pass.
After consulting with the coaching staff, we agreed she could take the exam at Shepherd University on the morning of our game. In order to understand the magnificence of her feat, let me do a little history of the events surrounding the test.
We had just played four games in a nine day stretch against three opponents who had great records and ranked above us in the conference. Two of those games were on the road. On Thursday night, we played Wheeling Jesuit University at home where Ali played a significant role scoring 20 points. Friday morning at nine a.m. we departed for the long 5 1/2 hour drive to Shepherdstown.
Upon arrival at Shepherdstown, the team had about 45 minutes to rest before we met for an hour of scouting. At 5:45 p.m. we departed for practice, thinking our practice time was at 6:00. Since the practice time was actually 6:30, we were at the gym longer than we had anticipated, not departing until 7:45. Once back at the hotel, we went to eat which took over an hour and a half. There was no down time for the team. That night after watching more video on Shepherd, I brought Ali back into the room for a short 20 minutes session on some new things I had caught.
The next morning, Ali departed for her test at 7:00 a.m. At 1:25 p.m. as I was entering the extreme panic phase, Ali entered the locker room to get her uniform for the game. Without lunch or rest or her usual pregame warm-up, Ali had a short 30 minutes before tip-off.
Fortunately for the team, Ali in her silent but determined way, went about her business on the court as if nothing was out of the ordinary. It was just another day for a superhero. She scored 16 points, played incredible defense and led us to another tough victory on the road.
Thank you Ali for giving more than any coach has the right to ask.
ONE HEART. ONE DREAM.
Thursday, January 20, 2011
Thursday, January 13, 2011
Leadership In The Trenches
It is not easy being a leader. I tell this to my team leaders every year when they think they want to the the ones to lead. They think being the team captain is important; it gives them status or a critical role on the team. They are right. What they fail to understand is how difficult it really is.
When you are a leader, you cannot take criticism personally. If a teammate criticizes you, you have to take what is important and let the rest go. You cannot be afraid to speak your mind-- afraid of what your teammates might think of you. You have to be able to say the tough things, to get on teammates when they are not performing, to encourage them to play harder, and to think of their needs first.
It is a lonely position. It is not one where you are hoping to be liked; it is one where your primary goal is to be respected. When you are the leader, you are isolated from your needs. Teammates don't think you need to be encouraged or pumped up. They don't look to support you; they want you to support them.
When you are having a bad game failing to play to your potential and you are a leader, you still have to be a leader. You can't allow your performance to affect your leadership responsibilities. When you are sick or sad or feeling a bit out of sorts, it doesn't matter. You still have to be the one to get the team going, to fill the emotional hole and to encourage them to do their best.
A leader doesn't get a day off. Nope. She always has to be on the court emotionally for her teammates. She has to be willing to do the extra things--dive for loose balls, take a charge, yell from the bench or get in a teammate's face who needs it. She has to call team meetings, communicate with her teammates about practice times and hold the team together when they seem fragile.
It is not a role for the faint of heart. It is not a role for those who are self-centered. It is not a role to be abused nor to make those below you work for you. No, it is a job only for those who are mentally tested, who have endured the challenges of life and who desire something so much they are willing to get outside of who they are to make dreams happen.
I've never glorified the position of team leaders. I know it is a tough one. Heck, I have to live it every day except I have a bit of an advantage; I'm not leading my peers. I'm older. I've got more power. I hold the edge of the disciplinarian, and I've been working at being a leader for 21 years . . . and yet still I fail at it. The team leaders have to do what I do without my advantages. Their jobs are tough. No doubt about it.
I almost feel bad for the leaders when I get on them. ALMOST. The thing I know is I cannot feel sorry for them or take pity on them, because they are the keys to our success. When they fail in their jobs, the team fails.
We lost our last game due to poor leadership. I hate to say it but it is true. We lost because we went into panic mode, and there was no leader there with composure, with the emotional strength to get the team back on track. We went downhill quickly, pointing fingers, whining and blaming teammates. Our leaders felt bad for themselves--their performances. They wanted somebody else to step up, to take up the slack. They wanted somebody else to pick them up, to bring them composure and encouragement.
I know the feeling. There are days I want that. I want another person to take over, to have the responsibility for our successes and failures, to call the right plays, to make the correct substitutions, to adjust defenses when the opponents are running a play. Ultimately I take responsibility even when I don't want to take it. Like now. If our leaders failed, then who was leading the leaders? That would be me.
I know our seniors can do better. They know they can. They get sidetracked sometimes and forget how capable they are. They forget they are strong enough and they have the inner strength necessary to do what is asked even in the most challenging of situations. When they remember, we will win and win and win.
ONE HEART. ONE DREAM!
When you are a leader, you cannot take criticism personally. If a teammate criticizes you, you have to take what is important and let the rest go. You cannot be afraid to speak your mind-- afraid of what your teammates might think of you. You have to be able to say the tough things, to get on teammates when they are not performing, to encourage them to play harder, and to think of their needs first.
It is a lonely position. It is not one where you are hoping to be liked; it is one where your primary goal is to be respected. When you are the leader, you are isolated from your needs. Teammates don't think you need to be encouraged or pumped up. They don't look to support you; they want you to support them.
When you are having a bad game failing to play to your potential and you are a leader, you still have to be a leader. You can't allow your performance to affect your leadership responsibilities. When you are sick or sad or feeling a bit out of sorts, it doesn't matter. You still have to be the one to get the team going, to fill the emotional hole and to encourage them to do their best.
A leader doesn't get a day off. Nope. She always has to be on the court emotionally for her teammates. She has to be willing to do the extra things--dive for loose balls, take a charge, yell from the bench or get in a teammate's face who needs it. She has to call team meetings, communicate with her teammates about practice times and hold the team together when they seem fragile.
It is not a role for the faint of heart. It is not a role for those who are self-centered. It is not a role to be abused nor to make those below you work for you. No, it is a job only for those who are mentally tested, who have endured the challenges of life and who desire something so much they are willing to get outside of who they are to make dreams happen.
I've never glorified the position of team leaders. I know it is a tough one. Heck, I have to live it every day except I have a bit of an advantage; I'm not leading my peers. I'm older. I've got more power. I hold the edge of the disciplinarian, and I've been working at being a leader for 21 years . . . and yet still I fail at it. The team leaders have to do what I do without my advantages. Their jobs are tough. No doubt about it.
I almost feel bad for the leaders when I get on them. ALMOST. The thing I know is I cannot feel sorry for them or take pity on them, because they are the keys to our success. When they fail in their jobs, the team fails.
We lost our last game due to poor leadership. I hate to say it but it is true. We lost because we went into panic mode, and there was no leader there with composure, with the emotional strength to get the team back on track. We went downhill quickly, pointing fingers, whining and blaming teammates. Our leaders felt bad for themselves--their performances. They wanted somebody else to step up, to take up the slack. They wanted somebody else to pick them up, to bring them composure and encouragement.
I know the feeling. There are days I want that. I want another person to take over, to have the responsibility for our successes and failures, to call the right plays, to make the correct substitutions, to adjust defenses when the opponents are running a play. Ultimately I take responsibility even when I don't want to take it. Like now. If our leaders failed, then who was leading the leaders? That would be me.
I know our seniors can do better. They know they can. They get sidetracked sometimes and forget how capable they are. They forget they are strong enough and they have the inner strength necessary to do what is asked even in the most challenging of situations. When they remember, we will win and win and win.
ONE HEART. ONE DREAM!
Friday, January 7, 2011
Learning How To Celebrate
When I first came to the University of Charleston ten years ago, we celebrated every victory. We were thrilled to simply win a game. This tradition only lasted a season as we quickly became a good team who expected to win games. The more games we won, the less it seemed we felt inclined to feel good about a victory. We hated the losses, cried about them, cursed at them, and lost sleep over them, but the victories . . . well, we just kind of let them slip right by us.
I think it is time we instituted a mandatory celebration after each win. I don't mean a throw-it-in-your-face kind of celebration. I simply mean we should take the time to feel good about each accomplishment. If we choose to only beat ourselves up over the losses, all our energy is going toward the losses and none to the wins.
After we won a game last week, I made the players get up in the locker room and do a little celebration dance. A day later, we had the locker room decorated with crate paper and balloons and gave out noise-makers to our players while we sat down to watch the game tape. It should feel good to win.
I think if all we do is focus on the losses, then we are essentially doing the same thing a team does at the end of a game when they are playing not to lose instead of playing to win. It is a recipe for disaster putting your focus on the negative.
So we are learning how to celebrate all over again. We will not put a show on in front of the opponents, but once we get behind closed doors we are going to party. Life should be fun. Playing should feel good, and winning, well . . . winning should feel like sunshine after a week of rainy days.
ONE HEART. ONE DREAM.
I think it is time we instituted a mandatory celebration after each win. I don't mean a throw-it-in-your-face kind of celebration. I simply mean we should take the time to feel good about each accomplishment. If we choose to only beat ourselves up over the losses, all our energy is going toward the losses and none to the wins.
After we won a game last week, I made the players get up in the locker room and do a little celebration dance. A day later, we had the locker room decorated with crate paper and balloons and gave out noise-makers to our players while we sat down to watch the game tape. It should feel good to win.
I think if all we do is focus on the losses, then we are essentially doing the same thing a team does at the end of a game when they are playing not to lose instead of playing to win. It is a recipe for disaster putting your focus on the negative.
So we are learning how to celebrate all over again. We will not put a show on in front of the opponents, but once we get behind closed doors we are going to party. Life should be fun. Playing should feel good, and winning, well . . . winning should feel like sunshine after a week of rainy days.
ONE HEART. ONE DREAM.
Saturday, January 1, 2011
A Game Can Last A Lifetime
I've coached games which were long--longer than a car ride across Texas, longer than a plane ride to Africa, longer than it takes to swim, run and bike a triathlon. The moments in these games don't even tick; they don't have a sound that goes with time moving. The moments in these games are like a slow ride into eternity.
Most of these games are ones in which we are playing poorly, where the players eyes are glazed, their minds have separated completely from their bodies, and timeouts are useless forays into a swamp of confusion. Most of them.
On Thursday night, it wasn't the entire game which moved excruciatingly slowly; it was the last three minutes. In those last three minutes, an entire NFL season could have been played.
We had a ten point lead with three minutes and five seconds to go. All we needed to do was protect the ball, take good shots, play smart defense and we were assured the victory. This is the point where a coach usually looks at clock and feels relief not the desperate need to pray for the right ending which I must now confess I was doing.
We fouled. They made the first free throw and missed the second. We pushed the ball down the floor and missed a lay-up. They scored a lay-up. We were up 62-55. They pressed. We got the ball inbounds close to the end line where Ali Tobias was trapped with the ball. As the seconds ticked and the official counted, the bench collectively held our breath. Ali called a timeout, and as a unit we exhaled.
As we came out of the timeout, we were able to get the ball inbounds safely, get by the first three defenders and then, we passed to the wrong jersey color. Praying, cursing, watching desperately from the sidelines as the Vulcans looked to score a certain lay-up. We fouled. They made two free throws which made the score 62-57. I looked at the clock. Only seven seconds had passed.
When the ball came out of the basket, we quickly pushed it up the floor beating the press and then stopped, waited for them to resume their traps, and looking quite helpless, we stood transfixed on the court perhaps waiting for a moment to tick by, or waiting for time to move. Then they had the ball again, scoring another lay-up (62-59) and we were still waiting for the time to move.
A nine point lead had elapsed into a three point lead, and the neon numbers of the score clock on the wall were stuck in a time zone where only the Vulcans could make it move. I called a desperation timeout and made a passionate speech about the need to play for the victory. We were playing not to lose which is always the precursor to a loss. You must, I screamed, play to win.
Tiana Beatty's eyes were glued to mine during the speech, and we connected in a way only coaches and players can. On the next possession when she received the ball, she shot it with such certainty that it sailed perfectly out of her hands into the net. With a five point lead, the time finally felt different. It wasn't as fatal. We could make the clock move; we could shift the numbers on the scoreboard.
There was still time to play. In fact, we scored four free throws. They scored four points. We crossed the mid line of the court five times. I practiced breathing and mentally moving the numbers on the score clock.
When the buzzer finally did go off, time flew by and we were done. The celebration was completed, the post game talk over, the parents and fans gone, and the time without any thought to lingering went right to the preparation of our next opponent.
ONE HEART. ONE DREAM!
Most of these games are ones in which we are playing poorly, where the players eyes are glazed, their minds have separated completely from their bodies, and timeouts are useless forays into a swamp of confusion. Most of them.
On Thursday night, it wasn't the entire game which moved excruciatingly slowly; it was the last three minutes. In those last three minutes, an entire NFL season could have been played.
We had a ten point lead with three minutes and five seconds to go. All we needed to do was protect the ball, take good shots, play smart defense and we were assured the victory. This is the point where a coach usually looks at clock and feels relief not the desperate need to pray for the right ending which I must now confess I was doing.
We fouled. They made the first free throw and missed the second. We pushed the ball down the floor and missed a lay-up. They scored a lay-up. We were up 62-55. They pressed. We got the ball inbounds close to the end line where Ali Tobias was trapped with the ball. As the seconds ticked and the official counted, the bench collectively held our breath. Ali called a timeout, and as a unit we exhaled.
As we came out of the timeout, we were able to get the ball inbounds safely, get by the first three defenders and then, we passed to the wrong jersey color. Praying, cursing, watching desperately from the sidelines as the Vulcans looked to score a certain lay-up. We fouled. They made two free throws which made the score 62-57. I looked at the clock. Only seven seconds had passed.
When the ball came out of the basket, we quickly pushed it up the floor beating the press and then stopped, waited for them to resume their traps, and looking quite helpless, we stood transfixed on the court perhaps waiting for a moment to tick by, or waiting for time to move. Then they had the ball again, scoring another lay-up (62-59) and we were still waiting for the time to move.
A nine point lead had elapsed into a three point lead, and the neon numbers of the score clock on the wall were stuck in a time zone where only the Vulcans could make it move. I called a desperation timeout and made a passionate speech about the need to play for the victory. We were playing not to lose which is always the precursor to a loss. You must, I screamed, play to win.
Tiana Beatty's eyes were glued to mine during the speech, and we connected in a way only coaches and players can. On the next possession when she received the ball, she shot it with such certainty that it sailed perfectly out of her hands into the net. With a five point lead, the time finally felt different. It wasn't as fatal. We could make the clock move; we could shift the numbers on the scoreboard.
There was still time to play. In fact, we scored four free throws. They scored four points. We crossed the mid line of the court five times. I practiced breathing and mentally moving the numbers on the score clock.
When the buzzer finally did go off, time flew by and we were done. The celebration was completed, the post game talk over, the parents and fans gone, and the time without any thought to lingering went right to the preparation of our next opponent.
ONE HEART. ONE DREAM!
Friday, December 24, 2010
Aloha from Hawaii
I realize we've physically been back from Hawaii for five days but my mind is still reaping the affects of the Aloha State. I can feel the rays of the sun flowing over my body; the smell of the ocean as the waves were rolling upon the sand; and the sound of the seagulls squawking from the azure sky. While the folks in West Virgina were getting hounded by snowflakes, we were on the beach allowing our bodies to feel the heat from a sun which did not know a cloud in the sky.
Yes, we went there to play basketball and I'll not say we were successful on the court. It would be a lie. I am disappointed in our season thus far. We are blatantly underachieving. Our playing continued to be below average as we lost our first contest by a single point and then won our second game by 13.
The success of the trip was not on the court, but it was in the bonding of teammates as they shared memorable moments together. Sometimes a trip can change the outcome of a season. It can create a team chemistry that practice or games cannot. In a place where there are no other friends or boyfriends or other distractions, the players had to rely upon one another for comfort, for laughter and for entertainment.
I did feel a change come over the team. It was subtle like a slight breeze gently blowing through my hair, but I could feel it. There was less tension and struggle between players. There was a feeling of family, of togetherness, of holding one another gently as if this was a moment to be held and kept forever in our memories.
Perhaps I am making this up, wanting us to change, to become the team I believe us to be, yet I feel strangely comforted by the idea of us as champions. I have never lost faith in this group, never believed they weren't good enough, never thought for a moment we couldn't reach our goals, so perhaps I sensed something which wasn't there. Perhaps I just wanted it to be so much that my mind created it, but I don't think so.
I think the trip was special, an entry point into a different season, a starting place for us to come together and begin playing like the team we are. I know I spent more time laughing at the players (I mean with the players) than I have in the past 3 1/2 months. I talked to them differently, heard more about their personal lives and let them more into mine. They became more real to me.
We did spend a memorable breakfast together before our second game. I knew after the loss from the night before when we made exactly the same mistakes as our recent loss to Concord, and I reacted with anger and distance that we had to come back together. At breakfast the day of the game, we had statements where the players had to fill in the blanks. One of the statements was: "If I could be anybody, I would be ____________ because she ___________." The player who received the compliment would then forward it on to another player.
After spending several minutes with this idea we switched the topic to: "If I could change anything about ____________, I would change _____________." We allowed the players the freedom to openly say these ideas without reactions or discussion.
After a few minutes, we switched topics again to say: "I respect _______________ because ____________." We finally ended the breakfast with three rounds of teammates sharing what we needed to do to win. No repeats of a previous statement were allowed.
It was a great breakfast and the open communication was welcome and wonderful. The players left feeling good about themselves and the past game had been forgotten. We won that afternoon not because we played but because we felt more of a unit.
I hope the time apart does not create forgetfulness, and I pray when we come back to practice on the 27th the players will remember Hawaii and how they loved one another there.
ONE HEART. ONE DREAM.
Yes, we went there to play basketball and I'll not say we were successful on the court. It would be a lie. I am disappointed in our season thus far. We are blatantly underachieving. Our playing continued to be below average as we lost our first contest by a single point and then won our second game by 13.
The success of the trip was not on the court, but it was in the bonding of teammates as they shared memorable moments together. Sometimes a trip can change the outcome of a season. It can create a team chemistry that practice or games cannot. In a place where there are no other friends or boyfriends or other distractions, the players had to rely upon one another for comfort, for laughter and for entertainment.
I did feel a change come over the team. It was subtle like a slight breeze gently blowing through my hair, but I could feel it. There was less tension and struggle between players. There was a feeling of family, of togetherness, of holding one another gently as if this was a moment to be held and kept forever in our memories.
Perhaps I am making this up, wanting us to change, to become the team I believe us to be, yet I feel strangely comforted by the idea of us as champions. I have never lost faith in this group, never believed they weren't good enough, never thought for a moment we couldn't reach our goals, so perhaps I sensed something which wasn't there. Perhaps I just wanted it to be so much that my mind created it, but I don't think so.
I think the trip was special, an entry point into a different season, a starting place for us to come together and begin playing like the team we are. I know I spent more time laughing at the players (I mean with the players) than I have in the past 3 1/2 months. I talked to them differently, heard more about their personal lives and let them more into mine. They became more real to me.
We did spend a memorable breakfast together before our second game. I knew after the loss from the night before when we made exactly the same mistakes as our recent loss to Concord, and I reacted with anger and distance that we had to come back together. At breakfast the day of the game, we had statements where the players had to fill in the blanks. One of the statements was: "If I could be anybody, I would be ____________ because she ___________." The player who received the compliment would then forward it on to another player.
After spending several minutes with this idea we switched the topic to: "If I could change anything about ____________, I would change _____________." We allowed the players the freedom to openly say these ideas without reactions or discussion.
After a few minutes, we switched topics again to say: "I respect _______________ because ____________." We finally ended the breakfast with three rounds of teammates sharing what we needed to do to win. No repeats of a previous statement were allowed.
It was a great breakfast and the open communication was welcome and wonderful. The players left feeling good about themselves and the past game had been forgotten. We won that afternoon not because we played but because we felt more of a unit.
I hope the time apart does not create forgetfulness, and I pray when we come back to practice on the 27th the players will remember Hawaii and how they loved one another there.
ONE HEART. ONE DREAM.
Thursday, December 9, 2010
A Little Listening Goes A Long Way
I believe this team could be really good. I dream it. I think about it and I feel it. Until last Saturday night, I hadn't seen the real team, the one I think exists. What I had seen was players struggling with their abilities, thinking too much and not allowing the game to flow through them.
As I watch the athleticism of Tarenna Dixon, Moneka Slaughter and Tianni Kelley, I know they could be amazing players. They are fast, strong, quick, and have the leap of a mountain cat. It is not their abilities which hold them back; it is their belief system. Some where along their journey, they heard they weren't good. The coaching staff has been trying to change that belief system for years.
Saturday night they showed their talents. It was beautiful. Amazing. Inspiring. I wanted to freeze the moments when they played with complete confidence so they could see the ease with which they performed. I wanted to bottle it up and give it back to them as a Christmas present. They are so good. If they could just keep that awareness close to their consciousness, then they would be able to do almost anything.
Others played well too. Chrissy Keir, the little package of dynamite, who can see the next pass five plays before it occurs. She hadn't been showing her true skills either. Sometimes she thinks at 5'1" she is too small. I don't think that at all because her height is in her vision and her passing skills. She played like she was 6'0'' tall on Saturday. I loved watching her no-look passes as they zipped through defenders to her teammates.
Tiana Beatty started to look like her old self again. Driving and dishing, weaving through defenders like they were Swiss cheese. Then there was Ali Tobias stealing passes and playing defense as if she was reading the opponents' minds.
How did this all occur? What was the event which created the change? It was the simple act of listening to the players. They wanted me to change the way I organized practices. They asked and I listened. Simple.
I hope they hold this place of confidence and play with their full abilities. I believe we can create an incredible season if they do. I hope I continue to listen.
ONE HEART. ONE DREAM.
As I watch the athleticism of Tarenna Dixon, Moneka Slaughter and Tianni Kelley, I know they could be amazing players. They are fast, strong, quick, and have the leap of a mountain cat. It is not their abilities which hold them back; it is their belief system. Some where along their journey, they heard they weren't good. The coaching staff has been trying to change that belief system for years.
Saturday night they showed their talents. It was beautiful. Amazing. Inspiring. I wanted to freeze the moments when they played with complete confidence so they could see the ease with which they performed. I wanted to bottle it up and give it back to them as a Christmas present. They are so good. If they could just keep that awareness close to their consciousness, then they would be able to do almost anything.
Others played well too. Chrissy Keir, the little package of dynamite, who can see the next pass five plays before it occurs. She hadn't been showing her true skills either. Sometimes she thinks at 5'1" she is too small. I don't think that at all because her height is in her vision and her passing skills. She played like she was 6'0'' tall on Saturday. I loved watching her no-look passes as they zipped through defenders to her teammates.
Tiana Beatty started to look like her old self again. Driving and dishing, weaving through defenders like they were Swiss cheese. Then there was Ali Tobias stealing passes and playing defense as if she was reading the opponents' minds.
How did this all occur? What was the event which created the change? It was the simple act of listening to the players. They wanted me to change the way I organized practices. They asked and I listened. Simple.
I hope they hold this place of confidence and play with their full abilities. I believe we can create an incredible season if they do. I hope I continue to listen.
ONE HEART. ONE DREAM.
Saturday, December 4, 2010
Dumb or Blind??
No, I'm not talking about the officials. It would be natural to think that but I am not against officials nor do I think they intentionally make poor calls. The next assumption might be I am talking about my players. Some coaches do this--blame their players for not being good enough, for not handling pressure, for not running the offense or defense correctly. It can be an "us" versus "them" mentality.
I'm the sort of coach who thinks in terms of unity, of a group of people coming together rather than a separation of coaches and players. So who I am talking about being dumb or blind? It is a little bit of a description of me, of what I missed and of my moments of not being present.
On Wednesdays, I meet with our two team leaders, Lindsey Kentner and Tarenna Dixon to discuss the team and to study a leadership manual together. Usually, I start the discussion asking them if there are any team issues which should concern me. They are good about being frank and honest, telling me what they see and what needs to change.
On this particular Wednesday, they brought up the issue of playing more 5-on-5 during practice. I must say I am a fundamentalist coach, one who loves doing drills. This stems from my experience as a player when I was RARELY coached and all we did was scrimmage. I want to teach. I want my players to have the opportunity to get better which I think comes from breakdown drills.
Yet, when I listened to them I heard them. They are, after all, two excellent players who understand the game and who love the game. They are on the court, not me. They are going through practices, not me. They are the ones who have a better feel for the game.
Unfortunately, we didn't have an opportunity to change our practice before the next game against West Liberty. I didn't want to fatigue the team on the day before a game.
During the West Liberty game, I was frustrated and disappointed at how we played. I knew we were so much better but we simply weren't performing at a very good level.
I watched the game film the next day and again I thought we looked shackled, chained, unable to play freely. When I planned Friday's practice, I thought about all we needed to do in terms of breaking down our skills to get better at passing to the post. I dreamt up a hundred breakdown drills and put none of them on paper. I heard the voices of Tarenna and Lindsey and I made up a short practice with 15 minutes of breakdown drills and thirty minutes of 5-on-5.
I swallowed my needs and allowed the team to play simply utilizing the rule the post had to touch the ball before the guards could shoot. WOW! I watched them play with skills I didn't know they possessed. I was thrilled at their "new moves" and athleticism, and I knew I had been dumb and blind.
The good news is I can hear. I wasn't deaf. I heard them. Now, if I can keep my hands out of it and teach while allowing them to play, I think we can be really good. I mean exceptionally good.
Lindsey asked me after practice if we were going to continue to practice like this. I smiled. She said, "Thanks for listening."
No, Lindsey and Tarenna. Thank you for sharing.
ONE HEART. ONE DREAM.
I'm the sort of coach who thinks in terms of unity, of a group of people coming together rather than a separation of coaches and players. So who I am talking about being dumb or blind? It is a little bit of a description of me, of what I missed and of my moments of not being present.
On Wednesdays, I meet with our two team leaders, Lindsey Kentner and Tarenna Dixon to discuss the team and to study a leadership manual together. Usually, I start the discussion asking them if there are any team issues which should concern me. They are good about being frank and honest, telling me what they see and what needs to change.
On this particular Wednesday, they brought up the issue of playing more 5-on-5 during practice. I must say I am a fundamentalist coach, one who loves doing drills. This stems from my experience as a player when I was RARELY coached and all we did was scrimmage. I want to teach. I want my players to have the opportunity to get better which I think comes from breakdown drills.
Yet, when I listened to them I heard them. They are, after all, two excellent players who understand the game and who love the game. They are on the court, not me. They are going through practices, not me. They are the ones who have a better feel for the game.
Unfortunately, we didn't have an opportunity to change our practice before the next game against West Liberty. I didn't want to fatigue the team on the day before a game.
During the West Liberty game, I was frustrated and disappointed at how we played. I knew we were so much better but we simply weren't performing at a very good level.
I watched the game film the next day and again I thought we looked shackled, chained, unable to play freely. When I planned Friday's practice, I thought about all we needed to do in terms of breaking down our skills to get better at passing to the post. I dreamt up a hundred breakdown drills and put none of them on paper. I heard the voices of Tarenna and Lindsey and I made up a short practice with 15 minutes of breakdown drills and thirty minutes of 5-on-5.
I swallowed my needs and allowed the team to play simply utilizing the rule the post had to touch the ball before the guards could shoot. WOW! I watched them play with skills I didn't know they possessed. I was thrilled at their "new moves" and athleticism, and I knew I had been dumb and blind.
The good news is I can hear. I wasn't deaf. I heard them. Now, if I can keep my hands out of it and teach while allowing them to play, I think we can be really good. I mean exceptionally good.
Lindsey asked me after practice if we were going to continue to practice like this. I smiled. She said, "Thanks for listening."
No, Lindsey and Tarenna. Thank you for sharing.
ONE HEART. ONE DREAM.
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