Excellence and Summitt

For the past few years of coaching young people, I have almost exclusively coached young ladies. Something that even male coaches ruefully note is the relative lack of female coaches in our sport at the youth level.

It is hardly restricted to youth soccer. You see the same in high school, college and the pros. It seems guys corner the market on coaching and training opportunities. And, while the situation is changing, there is much to be done in the matter of encouraging and retaining female role models in coaching. My organization has actively and tangibly worked to bridge any gender gaps.

I am not trying to talk myself out of a job; I just feel that there is definite value in finding female role models for young ladies to emulate.

When news surfaced recently that the venerable Pat Summitt, championship coach of the Tennessee Lady Vols, is battling a form of early onset Alzheimer's disease, the entire sports world gasped. Scratch that. Everyone gasped.

See, you don't need to be a sports fan to know Coach Summitt. Her scowl is legendary, and her glare strikes fear into friends and foes alike. But beneath that ferocity lies a history of excellence that is hard to ignore. Check how many of her students either have degrees or are working towards one. Here's a hint: if expressing the number as a percentage, you'd have to use three digits.

Ask her players, past and present, about her and they talk about a coach who is not scared to push them to succeed. A coach who would not accept 90%. She does things right, doesn't take shortcuts, and her methods make us all rest soundly in the assurance that good triumphs over evil in the long-run.

I'm saying a prayer for Coach Summitt... for selfish reasons. You see, she isn't just a role model to young ladies; she is a role model to me.

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Fearing the best

I hate to lose.

This weekend, both of my soccer teams had it rough. No goals for, plenty against. A single loss usually does good to put me in a dark mood, but running between two states for most of the weekend to get both teams going (kinda) and getting our teeth kicked in was especially hard to swallow. Tack on the player injuries, tight schedules and forced tan I got, and you can understand my feelings.

In the midst of the losses, there were some bright spots. It exposed our collective need to get better, but also showed how well we can do when we gel. Both sets of ladies never quit.

There was a point, during the last game with my older team, that I had to make a decision. Continue to push and express anger, with injured players all over the place, or be a resource to my players. I reluctantly (I admit) picked the latter option.

I smiled.

My hope was that being relaxed would rub off. And it did. My ladies seemed to open up. Granted, with the way we changed injured keepers and fill-ins, all one could do was smile.

It didn't stop the goals against us; we continued our free fall, but hopefully, the landing was softer than it could have been.

Another lesson learned... don't fear the loss. Deal with your response.

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Starting again

It begins again.

ATTIC is back, and I'll be having three new ladies join the fold... two teams in two new divisions, and a (mostly) new collection of parents.

With Fall comes a renewed sense of purpose. I look on the past year of coaching/ministry, and I think the honest thing is to be grateful for any successes, but be realistic about areas of opportunity.

In everything, it is clear that I must continually refresh myself if I want to be an effective trainer and pastor. I readily admit that sometimes, the sheer breadth of responsibility gives me pause.

The older one gets, the easier it is to see that one's strength isn't necessarily a function of what's within, despite what the cool Nike commercials say. It is more a function of what one attaches oneself to. So, I am making this easy by re-attaching myself to He who strengthens me.

It should be a good season for my youth and soccer teams. Keep us in your prayers.

Image courtesy of Ian Britton via reelworship.com.

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Terrahawks and Ecclesiastes

As a kid, I loved the supermarionation series Terrahawks. We didn't have very much by way of television choice, and when you make a show that has spaceships, aliens and commanders named Tiger Ninestein in the physical manifestation of puppets, we tuned in. Religiously.

Ninestein was a man's man. Not only did he have nine lives (get it?) that allowed one of his clones to replace him in the event of his death, he led a group tasked with protecting earth from Zelda and her minions. He carried a big stick (much like his PGA namesake used to). He was tough, cocky and suave, and at age 12, I was all about being suave.

One of Ninestein's famous quips was "Expect the unexpected." It wasn't a yell, and it wasn't a cry. It was always said with deliberate control... a respect for the inevitability of chaos. It was cool, it was collected, and most importantly: it was incredibly suave.

I had to use it.

I practiced the phrase for hours in the mirror (don't judge me. There wasn't Facebook, cell-phones or an other things that created misaligned kids back then; we had to work to blight our brains back then). I decided that everyone would be blessed with the phrase as my opening point to any conversation. They could expect that. It was the perfect rejoinder, something with which I could show everyone the depth of philosophical thought I had accumulated over my lengthy dozen-or-so years.

And, it worked well. I got blank looks from friends. Most seem more confused and impressed, but hey, plenty of politicians aim to stupefy people in the exact same way today, so I must have been onto something. I kept using my new tool of cool until one fateful evening.

Without getting to deeply into it, when your dad is talking about how badly his day went at work (and we ain't talking about "regular" work; we're talking about stressful work, where colleagues get killed by package bombs) AND how car trouble had left him stranded for hours AND how he had been interrogated by government security forces, you might NOT want to quote Tiger Ninestein at all. That evening, the expected outcome actually did happen.

I think if we focused on how much little control we have in life, it would be crippling. The cliches are mostly true: cherish the seconds, stop and breathe, it could be worse. But for those that need it, getting a true Anchor in God is all we have.

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