I Lost, therefore I failed. WRONG!

 

 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.