Sports have results.
Wins and losses. It’s the greatest blessing and greatest curse of athletics.
The result is final, public information. That’s not always the case with your criminal
record, your academic record, or your financial history. You can hide that
stuff if you want. Not sports. The result is out there somewhere, and if you’re
playing at any level worth its salt, there’s probably a website or a newspaper
somewhere that will preserve that result for all to see.
At the professional level, that makes sense. It’s their job.
They play to win the game. Just ask Herman Edwards. He’ll tell you exactly
that. To paraphrase the great Bill Parcells, you are what your record says you
are.
But that’s the pro’s. We’re talking about athletes who are
still developing.
I remember my first ever coaching gig. I was 16 years old
and the head coach of the Milton Recreation Association Bulls middle school
girls’ rec basketball. I’d never even been to a middle school girls’ basketball
game, but I knew I wanted to get into coaching, so here we go.
I chose my roster
based on t-shirt sizes and last names that I hoped were related to somebody
locally that I knew was a good athlete by the same name. The problem I had was
that the girls who wore large t-shirts were not because of their height, and
the girls I thought might be related to a local stud athlete were not.
I had a team full of first time athletes. Most had never
been on a team of any kind in any sport. We lost our first team to the Milton
Recreation Association Knicks 52-2. Those girls were running pick-and-rolls.
They had an outstanding understanding of the 1-3-1 zone. They made about 65% of
their free throws; not bad for middle school girls. My girls were still
learning why we all had to wear the same color shirts.
Fast forward to the championship game three months later.
Yep. I said championship game. My group of rookies made it that far. We had to
play the undefeated Knicks again. The same team that beat us by 50 in our first
game of season. The same team that beat us by about 30 two weeks earlier.
But we found ways to beat enough teams to make the playoffs,
and win two playoff games by hook, crook, smoke, and mirrors.
Final score: Knicks 52, Bulls 50. We lost. Success. Major
success in my book.
Fast forward about a dozen years and I’m coaching arena
football. I took over a team with no direction and even less talent in a league
that worked to promote players to higher levels of minor league football. My
NY/NJ Revolution lost in week 2 to the New England Surge 66-6. They were,
bigger, faster, stronger, and, quite frankly, we were outcoached. After a
season of learning hard lessons, we were finishing up after 14 long weeks. We
put our 1-12 record on the line against the 8-5 New England Surge who, with a
win, would clinch a playoff spot. Along the way, we made adjustments, changed
how we did things, found ways to put the ball in the end zone and found other
ways to keep the other team out of the end zone.
Final Score: Surge 29, Revolution 27. We lost. Major
success.
Fast forward another 3-4 years and I’m coaching tennis at
Fairleigh Dickinson University. We played Arcadia in a match that, on paper,
should have been 9-0 FDU. We were better at every spot. Our players had better
pedigree. Our players had more experience. Our team had a better record and had
beaten multiple teams that Arcadia had lost to. Easy day. Chalk up the win
before we show up.
Their coach preached a survival philosophy all day. “Just
one more ball. Make that kid hit one more ball. I don’t care if you dye trying,
but give it all you’ve got.” His guys were ready, hungry, and had nothing to
lose. Mine assumed we had a win locked up and played like they would rather
have been somewhere else.
Final score: FDU 5, Arcadia 4. We won. I failed. I was
outcoached, and our players were outworked. We were lucky to get out of that
one on the winning side. Arcadia made progress that day and we regressed.
If you judge these games by final score, you’re missing all of the little success that went into the process. It’s all about progress, process, and getting better. A loss is not always a failure. A win is not always success. Moving in the right direction is always good. Moving in the wrong direction is always bad.
Judge your progress as an athlete or as a coach
on direction, not results.