After my boys' first loss of the hockey season, their coach, a former professional goaltender in Europe, handed out some homework. Coach Philippe, whose son played net for the team, had prepared a one-page questionnaire. It asked each boy to explain some rules of the game, along with what he thought he did well and what he thought he could do better.
Hard-core, I thought. These kids are just 10 years old. They're already burdened with enough homework as it is. But after the boys had turned in the answers to their questionnaires and received individual feedback about their game, I changed my mind.
In fact, I concluded that what Coach Philippe had done was brilliant. In one move he'd accomplished everything I ever hoped to when I was coaching my kids' teams. He'd established his authority and expertise while supplying directed feedback and empowering the kids with a voice. Sure, I still laugh at some of the things he says ("Snipe at the goalie's he ad!" "Stop standing around--you're not at a movie eating popcorn!"). But I respect him enough to admit he's a better coach of my boys than I was.
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- Be a Better Dad
The fact is, fatherhood--whether we're talking sports, school, social activities, or anything else--is all about coaching. Our job is to encourage our kids to do their best and to be hard on them when they don't make the effort. We try to teach skills and lessons. We give more advice than a radio shrink. We try to make them winners, or at least have them feel as if they are. I've coached my kids, now both 13, in basketball and football. I've been a head coach and an assistant on winning and winless teams. And as any dad who's experienced the ups, downs, and awkward moments of coaching a son or daughter knows, few situations in life are trickier.
So how do you handle it? Or, phrased more reverently, what would Phil Jackson do? When you venture into the world of parent-coaching--which, let's face it, is one of fatherhood's rites of passage--a few pieces of wisdom can help make the experience a rewarding one.
Go to the chalkboard early. You probabl y assume your kids want you to coach their team. Most likely you're right, but what you may not realize is that the transition from Papa Bear to Bear Bryant might not be so smooth. So you need to sit them down. "Even when you're doing everything right as a coach--being positive, giving everyone on the team your attention, trying not to be too hard on your own child--they may have a hard time keeping the parent and coach roles separate," says Larry Lauer, Ph.D., director of coaching education and development at the Michigan State University Institute for the Study of Youth Sports. "So stuff that happens at practice and games gets carried home."
To help Junior comprehend, Lauer suggests putting it like this: "You have to understand a few things. I'm coaching everyone and can't jump to your every need. Sometimes it'll feel unfair--other kids and parents might think you're only playing because your dad's the coach." Just articulating these kinds of issues before the first practice, which many parent-coaches don't do, can help your child figure it out.
Don't forget to manage the parents. My buddy Chris Fischer has 30 seasons of experience coaching his kids' teams. I've coached alongside him for several years and picked up one important piece of advice: Open the lines of communication with the other parents before the season begins. "By asking them up front for suggestions and help, you're less likely to have them on your case later," he says.
Lauer notes that many novice coaches immediately put up walls. ("My way or no way.") If you do that, parents won't come to you with problems or concerns; they'll talk to other parents instead, which builds resentment and a negative vibe. So keep the air clear. Tell them, "Your young athletes trust that we're doing the right thing as a coaching staff. So don't criticize us in public, because the kids will get confused."
"If a parent has a problem," Lauer says, "deal with it one-on-one, not from the sidelines or in front of the kids. Make the boundaries clear."
Be dad first, coach second. Deep down, even the most successful parent-coach knows he'll never truly be viewed as an objective third party. In fact, if he is viewed that way, he probably shouldn't be coaching. "As a child develops through the teenage years, something a parent can do that nobody else can do is be there to coddle and nurture," says Alan E. Kazdin, Ph.D., a professor of psychology and child psychiatry at Yale University. "The parent provides that kangaroo pouch for children for a long time." Does this mean you should go rushing onto the field whenever your little Bobby has a boo-boo? Of course not. What it does mean is that your job as coach is to help more than holler, and support more than scare. You want to be Charlie Manuel, not Billy Martin.
To psych them up, zero them in. Remember this when you're trying to think of something inspirational to say before the game: You are no Kyle Chandler, and this isn't an episode of Friday Night Lights. As much as we may love a dynamic locker-room speech, kids don't care. It may even distract them from performing in the game.
"Research shows that the prime motivators for kids in youth sports are developing skills and getting better," says Richard Stratton, Ph.D., professor emeritus of education at Virginia Tech University. "They're pretty self-motivated. If anything, the one mental skill they need to work on is focus. Get kids to pay attention and listen."
How do you pull that off, especially with a tribe of antsy eight-year-olds? You do it by giving specific instructions in a low, calm voice--where to put your feet, how to position your hands, what to look for. To defuse a pressure situation, simply take the passion out of it. If you're relaxed, the kids will model your behavior and play better.
Know that practice matters more than games. Sorry, Allen Ive rson. As coaches, we live for the games--the drama, the outcome, the stats. But that's all wrong, says Kazdin. Take school, for example. Most of us know not to dwell on the Big Test but instead to keep tabs on what our kids are learning along the way. But that perspective can become lost in youth sports, where the final score often overshadows the skill building. You have to think about what kind of kid you want. One of the values to teach is wanting to win, but it's also about setting a goal, learning to persist, and working hard. The most teachable moments in sports are not the dramatic or traumatic ones, as most parent-coaches might assume, but rather what happens day to day on the practice field. "Everybody knows this in other areas," Kazdin says. "You don't just sit down and play Rachmaninoff. It's all about process. Scales, measures, arpeggios. . .and then Rachmaninoff becomes no big deal." But scrimmage often. They're kids. They like to play.
Teach defense. Not just because it wins games but also because it allows everyone to contribute. "Defense is 99 percent hustle," says Fischer. And all kids, regardless of their skill level, can learn to do that. "And once the kids understand they're important, they're much more likely to be into the season, all season."
Put every kid in a position to succeed. That being said about defense, don't try to "hide" marginal players there, as many parent-coaches might be inclined to do. When putting together a lineup, think positive. Make sure everyone has a chance to contribute--but use a little strategic maneuvering so the stakes aren't so high if an inexperienced player messes up. "The worst thing for a kid's ego is to be playing defense and whiff on a kick that leads directly to the other team scoring a goal," Fischer says. "If he whiffs on a kick in the middle of the field, it doesn't matter nearly as much."
Be delicate with discipline. The louder you are, the less you'll be heard. That's one of the basic truths of child rearing as well as parent-coaching. So don't holler at the kids. If one of them, even your own, is goofing off, simply have him run a lap--or two or three. (Hey, if it works for the military, it'll work in T-ball.) Deliver the order directly and firmly, without showing anger or raising your voice. Your job is to teach, not embarrass.
Pay attention to what your child isn't saying. Your child isn't going to approach you--dad, coach, hero--and say, "Pop, you gotta ratchet it down. I can't meet your expectations. I'm only five years old." Instead, he'll find ways to communicate that without actually saying it.
"If you overdo it, he's going to shut you out and close down," says Catherine Pearlman, Ph.D., a licensed clinical social worker who calls herself the Family Coach. Some kids may complain of imagina ry injuries--that way you'll back off and they don't have to let you down. Others may retaliate by talking back more, becoming reclusive, or not having their gear ready for practice or game day, she says. If you notice your future Heisman winner doing this, your best response is to ask him about it. But bring it up in a casual, nonconfrontational way, like when you're watching ESPN together or having slices at a pizzeria. "If a coach really takes the time to do this in a nonthreatening way, the kids feel heard, and that's sometimes all they need. Say, 'It's hard for me to coach, and I know it's hard for you,' " Pearlman suggests. "Empathy is very powerful."
Redefine "reward." According to Stratton, research shows that kids don't care all that much about trophies and ribbons. About five years ago, the team I was coaching had a parent-player hoops game for our end-of-season party. Afterward I handed out homemade certificates. But the best part, at least for me, was giving each kid a nickname based on what he'd done that season. So "Shadow" was the tough defender, "Energizer" the hustler, "Dart" the sharpshooter, and so on. I don't know if anyone kept those certificates, but I like to think it was a more meaningful and memorable tribute than the usual cheap trophy.
I don't remember a whole lot of details about that season, but I'll never forget the look on the faces of those kids--including my sons--as I "awarded" them their nickname and certificate, shook hands with them, and heard them say, "Thanks, Coach." Funny how those two little words can make it all worthwhile.
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