Who is the Coach V guy anyway?

   

   I’ve spend my entire life in amateur sports. I grew up New Jersey playing baseball, football, basketball and ice hockey with a few other sports sprinkled in. When I wasn’t playing, I was watching. It might have been my siblings or cousins, it might have been the Mets. On the odd chance That I wasn’t playing or watching, I was probably either sorting baseball cards or playing a football game with my Starting Line-up figurines. Every once in a while, I snuck in a book or a video game. But if it wasn’t a Matt Christopher book or Blades of Steel, I probably wasn’t interested.

                High school rolled around before I was done playing wiffleball in the back yard. I traded in my baseball bat and hockey skates for a shot put and a volleyball. I was either smart enough or dumb enough to keep my football cleats on. The first paycheck I earned was as a softball umpire at 13 years old. By the time I was out of high school, I already had a championship game loss as a head coach under my belt (the first of many) coaching middle school girls’ basketball.

                I completely botched the recruiting process. I can’t say I was world class, or even very good, at any one particular sport. But at 6’4 and 225 pounds, I was pretty athletic (and certainly athletic-minded). I ended up turning down an FCS football scholarship to play division III football because I knew I’d be able to play right away.

                My academics were, at best, below average. I did well in the classes that I could talk my way through and poorly in the classes that required effort. I never learned how to study. I went through about 15 years of school with undiagnosed ADHD. I still haven’t done much to deal with it, other than recognize it’s an issue and make peace with the inability to stay on task and focused.

                In college, I found a new way to get paid in sports. I wrote. I covered high school, college and competitive youth sports for about a half-dozen newspapers throughout northern New Jersey and Northeastern Pennsylvania. The upbringing I had sure helped. If I hadn’t played the sport, I was probably stuck in a sweaty gym watching it at some point.

                After two years as a major contributor on a pretty good Division III football team, I gave up football. Truth is, I never really loved playing football. I was pretty good at it, but I was never passionate about it. I tried my hand at college baseball having not played competitively since I was 15. That didn’t last a full season. Then, I dabbled. A little beach volleyball here, some water polo there. Plenty of weight training. And the occasional 5k or golf outing.

                Life took me from the Northeast to the Carolinas. Naturally, I turned to sports. I interned at a sports radio station, worked full-time at a magazine covering sports, and freelanced for another covering mostly NASCAR and the NFL. I played a lot of golf, and more than enough beer league softball. I got serious about weight training and more serious about my college sweetheart.

                Two years later, we were married and headed back up north. A few twists and turns in the road and I found myself back in Jersey coaching high school football and working at gym as a personal trainer full time. It was during that time that I learned that coaching was why I was put on this planet.

                That was almost 20 years ago. I’ve been a coach ever since. I’ve dabbled in writing and officiating, but I’m a coach. What was once high school football and weight training has somehow morphed into college tennis and running around tirelessly as a Little League President.

                Along the way, I’ve fulfilled just about every role a coach can. From recruiter to organizer, from disciplinarian and motivator, from scoreboard operator and crowd control, I’ve worn many hats. And as any veteran coach will tell you, coaching the sport is the easy part.

                The hardest part, and by far most important part, or a life in sports in managing the people around you to make sure the experience is enjoyable and beneficial for everyone. Hard is probably the wrong way to say that. It’s impossible. Still, that’s my goal. In some ways, that’s my life.

                As a collegiate head coach, I have to find the kids who will help our program be successful while also making sure those kids are choosing a collegiate option that is good for them and the path they want to take in life. I’ve said “no” to just as many kids who were not good enough for our team or school as I have to those for whom our team or school was not good enough.

                As a league president, my job is to grow, promote and teach baseball to the level that is best for the four small towns that we represent. Some of our parents have never swung a bat. Some believe a young Babe Ruth sleeps in the bedroom next to theirs. Others believe it’s not “real baseball” unless we’re traveling hundreds of miles and wearing fancy uniforms. Lucking, most of them are great folks who want their kids to learn and have fun. I have to foster the environment that allows them to grow together.

                Most importantly, I’m a father of three active kids. My wife and I need to make sure that our kids are growing in a healthy, nurturing environment in which the encounter both success and failure. They need to be physically active as well as mentally stimulated. It’s not important whether they’re good at baseball or gymnastics or dance. But it is important that they are good teammates. It’s of utmost importance.

                I know the whole sports thing sounds like child’s play to many people. To me, it’s serious. Not so much the result, but the process. So many young kids and their families know what they want; the championship, the scholarship, the spot on the varsity team; but I find that so few know how to get there, or oven what’s realistic to expect from their child in their environment.

                I’d like to think this is why people like me have jobs and community leadership roles. Then again, there’s also the possibility that I was the only one willing to take on the responsibilities that I have for the pay that I get. Remember, half of what I do is as a volunteer. But I believe it’s important work. And, chances are, if you’re reading this, you think it’s important, too.