The Coach’s Son

As my son’s youth football career comes to a close and I reflect on our seven years together, I realize I owe him an apology. If I could do it all over again, I’d 100% coach him again. But I would also do it differently. Since he was six years old, he has been the most criticized kid in America. He’s had to practice harder than other kids, be the example, be a leader, come early, stay late, watch extra film, etc.  However, that’s not what I’m apologizing for. If you want to be great, if you want to win, those things are a part of the game. It comes with the territory. What I’m apologizing for is despite all the extras he did, he never got the chance to fully reap the benefits of his hard work and it was no fault of his own.

“You know he only the QB because his daddy the coach.”

“See, he just trying to give the ball to his son.”

“His son start on defense too, he let his son do everything.”

“I’m going to put my son on another team next year since he only care about his son.”

“His son ain’t even that good.”

 If you’ve ever coached your own child, I’m sure you’ve heard a few of those quotes and likely more or even worse. I’d be lying if I told you I was able to block it all out and it didn’t matter. The majority of the comments did not come to me directly. His mother, a friend, or someone else always let me know about the sideline whispers. I understood that this was their perception of what was happening and for them it was their truth. In addition to being my child’s coach for seven years, I was also the president of the park for four of those years which meant it was up to me to control or manage people’s perceptions instead of the actual truth.

In order to control the sideline whispers, as park president and coach, to ensure that I would continually field teams year after year, I knew there was only one solution. I took something away from my son he absolutely earned and I can’t give back to him. I took away the one thing the sideline whisperers said I gave him–the ball. You see, when you’re the first one at practice and the last one to leave, you deserve the ball. When you breakdown film with your coach to understand what everyone is supposed to be doing, you deserve the ball. When you spend hours training, doing extra reps, and preparing while others may be sitting around playing video games then you deserve the ball. Well, I apologize son, because the amount of touches you received compared to how hard you worked and how talented you are have never been close to equal.

I don’t really like to compare kids because it never has been or will be about my child being better or worse than another. It’s about recognizing what players can and cannot do and placing them in a position for the player and team to be successful. However, what parents on the sidelines don’t understand is that as a coach you will develop a relationship and have a much better idea of what a player can and cannot do based on the time you spend together. When I coach my son there won’t be a player that I have a better understanding of because that’s who I spend the most time with. While five kids may all get ten reps at practice working on a specific skill or play one day, my son may get another fifty reps in before next practice. He’s been able to often perform better than his peers as a result.

I remember my first year being his head coach and calling the plays on offense for the first time in my career. To this day, I’m really a defensive guy but I’ve gotten a much better handle on offense now. We were playing our in town rivals and I actually called the play incorrectly. He knew right away and fixed it. He made sure everyone lined up correctly and we scored a touchdown. He was eight at the time and justified right there why he was the starting QB over kids who were older than him. That season we had two amazing running backs and his job was to run the play correctly and get it to them. That whole season I didn’t call five plays for him to run the ball. He didn’t complain—not one time. And still hasn’t. He’s the most selfless kid I’ve ever coached. He’s never complained about his touches or where he has played in seven years.

I remember last year when he checked out of the bubble route at WR to the post route because of the defensive courage. I remember the times he made the strength call on defense and got other kids lined up. I remember the times he told me what kids didn’t get a chance to run the ball that game or hadn’t scored so they could. I remember the times he would suddenly have to play a new position just for one game or so we could get another kid on the field. I remember him helping line and set up the field for home games. I remember him helping organize and sort uniforms. I remember that despite all he did for the program and for team, despite him doing everything I asked of him, they still whispered. They still talked about my son on the sidelines and at their homes. At one point it trickled over to his friends on the team and I shielded it from him.

So, yeah. If I could do it all over again, I’d give you more touches. Not because you’re my son, but because you earned it and you deserve it. You’ve always been a great player, a hard worker, and an incredible teammate. For those reasons, I should have let you have the joy of seeing your labor pay off more. I should have let you experience a few more trips to the end zone. I should’ve been just your coach.

Your coach saw how important you were to the team and how talented you were. Your coach knew that getting you the ball and on the field would always help the team win. But your dad, the president, got caught up managing the whisperers. In the end, it didn’t matter too. They still whispered. But know that although you may not have gotten the touches and chances you deserve to show how great you are, I still know how great you are and I see it every day. It shows not only in you, but in your little brother. He wants to be like you and has learned the game so quickly and so well because of you. He gets his touches, and he owes that to you.

Son, I apologize and thank you for your sacrifices. Your next coaches have already expressed what they see in you and can’t wait for you to play for them. No one will be able to say you get anything because you’re the coach’s son then. All they can do is admire and see what I have always seen—a great player, a hard worker, and an incredible teammate. Until next time, B U!