Parenting as a Coach, Coaching as a Parent - 2018 - Lu

“You yelled at me!”

The statement above came just a day ago from my daughter after her league games. As her coach, I clarified, “Yes, I did yell at you, and I yelled at most of your other teammates, too.”

“Okay,” she huffed, “but you yelled at me most.”

“I yelled at everyone,” I repeated. But in my head I admitted, “You’re right, I probably did.” Then I hugged her tight. “It’s tough being the coach’s kid. I am so proud of you. I have so much fun watching you play.”

And she is right. I did yell at her, just like I yelled at the girls I coached before she came along.

She is my 3rd child. Coaching basketball at the junior high, junior varsity, and varsity level was what I did for 13 years before I became my daughter’s traveling coach. During those years that I coached at the high school level, I was pregnant with each of my three kiddos. In fact, during the holiday tournament before my daughter was born, there were those spectators who were afraid of a courtside birth.

Two weeks later, she was born on a cold day in January, and after calling friends and family, I called the head coach of the high school team. It was 2:30 pm and he said, “Well, you’ve got half an hour to get to practice.” It wasn’t 30 minutes later, but two weeks after she was born, when I wheeled her stroller into the gym and parked it in the corner. Her lullaby became the bouncing basketballs in a gym. Is it any wonder that she can sleep through almost anything?! When she was three and half, and I went back to my teaching job, I left the basketball coaching ranks. Seven years later, I returned, not with high schoolers, but with my daughter’s fourth grade team. I did not realize at the time that the head girl’s coach had just assured himself of a coach for that grade level for the next three years! When we started, I thought my high school coaching experience would be enough. I quickly found out how wrong I was.

After coaching her team the last two years, there are a few important things that I have learned about coaching HER.

1. She is just as competitive as her momma.

2. She rejects a compliment on her play if she doesn’t feel it’s deserved, and yet craves the compliments that reflect how she thinks she’s played.
3. She has high expectations of her teammates and doesn’t understand when they don’t do the things she thinks are obvious.
4. She still wants basketball to be fun as evidenced by the Fortnite dances witnessed at practices.

This is the 3rd year that I’ve coached my daughter’s elementary basketball team, and each year I’ve ramped up expectations for myself and the girls. When we started in 4th grade, we were literally teaching everything about the game - how many girls were on floor at one time, what the lane was, the fact that you can’t dribble and pick up the ball and dribble again. The list goes on and on.

Coaching young girls for the last two years has also taught me more than I anticipated, but here’s my biggest take away to date:

Never assume the girls know what you’re talking about when you are coaching. They will pretend they do and you'll never know the difference until an important moment in a game.

My favorite two examples of this actually came last season when they were 5th graders. All season long I had been yelling at my point guards to penetrate. And they never did. I finally clued in when I asked my daughter, “Do you guys know what penetrate means?”

And she said, “Uhhhhhh, back dribble?” I sighed, dropped my head into my hands, and took a deep breath and called all my point guards to the top of the key (I actually just said, come over here since “top of the key” is a phrase we haven’t gotten to yet) to explain. (Meanwhile, one of my other players -not even close to being a guard- could be heard saying to another coach, “Am I a point guard?”)

When I got the girls together, I said again, “Do you guys know what penetrate means?” Blank stares told me that I had inadvertently neglected instructing the girls on something I thought they already knew. “Actually, no, it’s the opposite of back dribbling. It’s when you dribble IN toward the basket, not back AWAY from the basket.”

“Oooooooohhhhhhhhhhh,” realization dawned on the faces of 4 little girls.

Still this year, I ask periodically, “Do you know what I mean when I say penetrate to the basket?” Now they roll their eyes as if to say, “Why does she think we don’t know?”

The second instance came in during a game last year. All season long, I had been working with our post players, encouraging them to use their bodies to *ahem* post up. “X!” I yelled, “Post Up!” She ran to screen for the wing at the same time the wing passed her the ball. Turnover. The next time down the court, “X! POST UP!” She screened for the wing as the ball came flying at her. Turnover. The third time down the court, “X! POST HER UP!”

She glared at me from just outside the lane and said exasperatedly, “I don’t know what you mean!!!!”

Ohhhhhhhh, realization dawned for me! Time out, explanation ensued. “Ohhhhhh,” she said, “Why didn’t you tell me that before?!”

There have been other instances where I am reminded how much teaching about the game that I still have to do. The vocabulary itself makes it seem like a whole different language. We added new team members this year so I back up more often than I like to explain over and back, full court press, and side out.

I am also frequently surprised by the other things I’ve learned coaching my daughter.

1. I am just as competitive as I’ve always been - no matter what level I’m coaching.

2. I reject compliments about coaching, because after all these years, it really IS about the girls and how I can help them be strong and confident.

3. I have high expectations of my players and those who coach with me.

4. I want basketball to be fun AND challenging at the same time.

5. This time I have with her is so limited. It breaks my heart and fills it with joy at the same time.

For now, I get a front row seat to the action with my daughter. I get to be on the bench with her, coach her, teach her, challenge her, and love her, sometimes all in the same game. Next year will be tougher for me. Next year, I’ll be in the crowd along with the other parents. She might appreciate the respite from mom/coach and I’ll have to be willing to give her up to someone else on the bench.I’ll have to be willing to allow her a significant relationship with another coach, like the parents who have trusted me over the last three years.  I’ll have to remember that I’m her mom, not her coach, and I plan to be her number one fan.

Parenting as a Coach, and Coaching as a Parent 2016

Parenting. Coaching. Coaching. Parenting.

These are tough things by themselves. And then, you put them together and it becomes exponentially tougher.

I've coached sports since, well, it feels like forever. I was a high school 3 sport athlete. I was a college basketball player.  And then I started teaching and still wanted to be a part of the athletics that helped to shape my life and that I loved so much.

So, I started coaching. That journey is another post, but suffice it to say that before I became a parent in 2003, I coached (and parented) many student athletes from 1996 to the present.  I've coached 3 sports - cross country, basketball, and track and field. My husband has coached 4 sports - soccer, football, basketball, and track and field.

Becoming a parent is a game changer in more ways than one when you are also a coach.

It started when the kids played Tball, then Little League. At batting practice with Gabe one day when he was about 8, I said to him, "Okay honey, I'm going to talk to you like your coach now and not as your mom. Suck it up, get in the batters box, and act like you want to be here. Your dad loves playing baseball with you and this pouting is NOT going to go over well with him."  Dad's dreams of a left handed pitcher in the majors supporting his parents were just that, Dad's, and not Gabe's.

Next comes the time last year in the gym when Matt and I were working with Gabe on basketball moves in the post.  I decided to work with Ben when my time with Gabe was over. Ben just wanted to play with the dust bunnies and the broom handle he found in the supply closet and adamantly refused to work with me on basketball. This did not go over well and I said one of those ridiculous things parents sometimes can't resist saying, "Fine, well, I guess I'll never work with you on basketball again. Too bad, I was really looking forward to it. Good luck learning on your own." He obviously didn't care because as I walked away, I heard him making light saber sounds as he sashayed his way across the gym with the broom handle.

Now, we have a 7th grader, a 5th grader, and a 4th grader all playing basketball at various levels. Gabe is learning that his mom and dad may actually know a thing or two about the game, now that Matt is not his traveling BB coach. He has worked with me on Sunday afternoons throughout this winter, getting comfortable playing with contact while I play defense on him and hack all over him, just like my dad did with me.

Ben will come with us to the gym, but whether or not he wants to be coached is hit or miss.  One time when Gabe and his friend and Ben and I were playing 2-2, he decided to say out loud that he thought he was better than me. Big mistake. Huge.  I proceeded to block his shot multiple times and blow by his defense.  I'm pretty proud that I can still beat an 11 year old. My 13 year old? Not so much. That same day I lost 10-3 to Gabe.

Lyndee's playing 4th grade this year and myself and two other moms are coaching them. It's been really fun to see their progress. It is still evident to me how many more skills boys come into the gym with as opposed to girls.  We started with information such as how many people are on the court at a time and how you know when you're on defense or offense. My bias is all toward teaching fundamentals and worrying about the other things (like plays, how to sub in, and take the ball out) later.  Our first game we lost something like 22-4. We won our most recent game 28-5, but all the other games in between were losses. The girls know improvement is the name of our game right now, and on that level, we've been successful.  At one of our games last weekend (a loss), Lyndee came out of the game frustrated. I was giving high fives to all the girls coming off the court and when I got to her, she dramatically turned her body away from me, refused my high five, and flounced to the bench, where she sat down glaring at me.  In no uncertain terms, I informed her that that would never happen again. Then I asked the other two coaches to communicate with her about what she needed to do differently from then on so that she would be open to listening.  I told Matt about all this and he chuckled and said, "Yep, she's your daughter."  Truth is hard sometimes.

While it's hard coaching your own kids, this year has proven that it's even harder to sit in the stands.  We are cursed with too much knowledge of the game and more than once have had to check and balance each other on what we say during the game, who we say it to, and how we say it.  We have had to learn that we are G's parents first, and coaches second. It's been a hard lesson to learn for us. Where other parents say to their kids, easily and naturally, "I love to watch you play," we want to coach him and say, "We love to watch you play, but...."  After the first few games and a few arguments between the two of us, I am encouraged that we seem to be learning how to talk with our kids after games.

Poor Gabe is our learning curve. The other two will benefit from the path he has forged and will continue to forge with his parents as coaches. This spring, we'll get to experience that in a new way, since G has decided to give Track and Field a try.