No Coincidences

Tag: Coach

  • Yelling Coaches

    Yelling Coaches

    I grew up with a lot of yelling coaches. There’s one in particular I still have nightmares about. He was a coach who communicated in only one way: yelling as loudly as possible. I always had the feeling he hated me. As an adult, looking back, I haven’t gained a new perspective on this. It hasn’t become one of those, “He yelled at me to make me stronger, and he really did care about me.” No. I still think he hated me.

    I didn’t respond well to yelling.

    One of my concerns when I started coaching basketball 5 seasons ago was how I would handle yelling. As I mentioned in How do we speak to others, I have an inherent aversion to yelling. I didn’t want to yell period, let alone at my girls. I was worried how the girls I coached would respond to me if I wasn’t willing to yell at them. Would they respect me? Could I discipline them?

    What I’ve found, and I’m grateful to report, is that in my experience you don’t need to yell at anyone to get them to respect you. A quiet, private chastisement or loving criticism is 1000 times more effective than yelling or publicly embarrassing a player.

    There was one game I’ll never forget. We were beating the team badly in the second half, but it hadn’t always been that way. It was a close game through the first half. But as the second half got going, their coach started to get flustered. The coach was yelling at the refs and their players constantly. It was a classic case of a coach losing their cool as the game stayed close. This was obvious from my seat. As the coach yelled at the refs more, their players lost focus and started complaining about the officiating as well. Then the coach started turning their frustration on the players, yelling at them after turnovers or mistakes. I saw their team quickly devolve. Players were throwing their hands up in frustration. After every play, they were looking to their coach to make sure they weren’t about to be yelled at. It reminded me so much of my time playing for my yelling coach.

    That was the reason our lead extended in the second half until we were blowing them out. I always wonder how a coach can expect their players to stay calm and composed if the coach themselves is unable to do so.

    At one point in that game, when the opposing coach was yelling at one of their players, a player on my team who was sitting next to me on the bench looked up at me and said, “Thank you.”  I replied, “What?” and she said, “Thank you for not being like that coach and yelling at us.” That was about the best coaching compliment I’ve ever received.

    I explained to that player my coaching philosophy. Yelling doesn’t help. All yelling does is put everyone on edge.

    That same player, at the end of the season, gave me a card with a note that read, “Thank you so much for this season. I loved playing with you as a coach, thank you so much for being the coach. I hope you have a great time with your wife and Ivy” (this was before Sage).

    If you’re wondering why and how coaching is rewarding, there it is.

    So, do I yell? The season from this example (3 seasons ago now), I actually had to apologize to my team on a couple occasions. There were a couple games where I wasn’t proud of how I acted on the bench. I lost my cool, exhibited frustration on the bench, and sometimes yelled. One time I snapped at a player in the heat of a game. I felt really bad about that. I pulled that player aside afterward and apologized. At practice after a game where I got frustrated and started yelling, I explained to the team my philosophy: how can you stay composed if I don’t? I told them I was disappointed in my behavior and planned to be better.

    I hope that taught those kids something about accountability. If I don’t hold myself accountable, how should I expect to hold them accountable? I doubt they’d ever had a coach admit to being wrong. I wonder, how can we expect these athletes to respect someone who doesn’t admit when they’re wrong?

    One more story from this last season, our first at Notre Dame Prep. We had a really good team this year. We were 15-0 with two games to go. I knew this second to last game would be our toughest test. At halftime, my worries were justified as we were down two points. Throughout the first half I had to constantly reign myself in to keep myself from losing it on my players. They weren’t playing like themselves and I was disappointed. It was only after that I realized they were doing their best, but the lure of that undefeated season had really gotten into their heads. As I was walking from our bench to our locker room, I was prepared go crazy on my team under the guise of lighting a fire under them. If you’ve played serious sports, all these coaching tropes probably sound familiar.

    As I walked from our bench, I received wise words from Cameron. He said, “Before you go in there, remember that these girls have never been down at halftime.” He clearly saw in my face what was about to happen in that locker room. I’m glad he did. He saved me from what would have been a mistake. He was right. These girls didn’t need to get more flustered by not only being down at halftime but then getting yelled at in the locker room. How could I expect them to be composed if I wasn’t? Instead, I put a smile on my face, walked in, and told the girls how awesome it was to be in a close game for once. I then got into the things we needed to do better.

    Now, our team had some stern halftimes throughout the season. As a coach, you’re perpetually trying to lift your team higher, no matter how much you’re winning by. But, what would I have taught those girls if, in the one game they were losing, I walked in and blew a gasket? I would have taught them the worst possible thing – that habits, and effort, and sportsmanship, and accountability were not as important as winning and losing. That is not a lesson I want to instill in any young person.

    As for yelling productively, another fear I had, that didn’t end up being a problem. I used to wonder if I could coach when I don’t like to raise my voice at all. I quickly learned, that in the intensity of a game, I can’t help but raise my voice – to the players on the court, so the ref can hear a question I have, in the huddle over a crowd. This is what I consider productive yelling. My fear of not being able to yell during a game is lost. If anything, I need to tone it down. Those games can get exciting and intense and sometimes I’m tempted to run to half-court in the middle of a play to call a timeout because the ref won’t look at me (that happened).

    Productive yelling is good. Yelling to try to demean a player or to get their respect is not. Especially when that yelling is insulting or embarrassing, which it often is. I didn’t respond well to yelling when I played and it’s my experience that a lot of kids don’t.

    Winning is fun, but it’s not our primary goal as a coaching staff. These girls will all go on to have jobs, be professionals, get married, have kids, and do all the things that make this life rewarding and challenging. Our primary goal as a coaching staff is to prepare our student-athletes to be prepared for life. Basketball will pass. But learning to keep your cool under pressure, have confidence, do your best, and treat and speak to people with respect will better them for life.

  • Mike Leach

    Mike Leach

    In the Spring of 2009 Uncle Mike helped fund a trip for my entire family to go to a Club Med to celebrate my grandparents 50th wedding anniversary. I was an extremely moody teenager at the time. It was still a memorable experience. That’s the kind of trip you never forget. Participating in trapeze acts, golfing, boogie boarding at the beach, paddle boats, volleyball, skate parks; that was a fun trip. I wonder if that was the last time the whole Leach family was together. It had to have been. Laura moved on in May of 2018. My grandparents made it to 63 anniversaries. Grandma moved on May of this year.

    When my brother Dresdan received the Melchizedek priesthood, my family went to St. George for the ordination. We went to my brother’s church that day. I remember my Grandpa Frank bearing his testimony of the Gospel of Jesus Christ. Grandpa talked about the pain involved in burying a child when Laura died. He’s since had to bury his best friend/wife and now his oldest son. My heart goes out to Grandpa.

    Grandpa talked about the pain of saying goodbye, but in his testimony, he pointed out the most important thing. He emphatically testified that day that he would see Laura again. I know that my grandpa knows he will also see Grandma and Mike again.

    When I talked to my mom hours after Mike passed, she said Sharon was doing surprisingly well. She was strong. Not that my mom needed any reminding, but I mentioned how important our faith is in these moments. When you know you’ll see someone again it becomes a painful, but endurable goodbye. My Aunt Sharon’s strength comes from her faith. I know my cousins will be ok too.

    Mike was a man of deep faith. It warms my heart to think of him with Grandma and Laura again. It saddens my heart to think that my cousins and aunt will have to go so long without him. I hope they remember, it’s a couple more decades, and then eternity.

    61 is a young age to move on. So is 71 and 81 and 91 and 101. Goodbye is goodbye, no matter how old you are. It occurred to me that if I move on at 61, Sage won’t yet be 30. I can’t imagine not seeing Sage reach 30. Mike didn’t get a chance to see his two youngest children reach 30. My heart aches for them.

    Mike is my mom’s oldest brother. I say “is” because, if you read my blog, you know I know he’s not really gone. He’s still her oldest brother. He’ll forever be her oldest brother. My mom has said in the past that I remind her of Mike. Few see the resemblance. I think my mom’s view comes from him being her oldest brother, and I am the oldest of my siblings. I like to think I’m like him. He was able to show his brilliance to so many people through football. Mike Leach will go down in history as one of the most innovative college football minds of all time, and most interesting. His impact on this world goes far, far beyond football. The most important thing he ever did was be a husband and a father. I think he would agree. I look forward to asking him one day.

    Last year I “interviewed” Uncle Mike. I read a lot of books that say to talk to the successful people around you. Pick their brain. My Uncle is one of the most successful people in the history of his profession. What a person to interview. Mike was a busy man. He spent over an hour on the phone with me, answering my questions.

    I want to share something Mike said to me that night that I think encapsulate the way he lived his life.

    I asked Mike what’s something he believes that others think is crazy. His response was, “People put limits on themselves. Perceive where you’re going, value the journey.”

    I also asked Mike the question we all wondered: How and why did you get a law degree and then end up coaching football? He said that since he was very young, he enjoyed coaching. He got his law degree and then he realized, if he didn’t try coaching right then he might never do it. He didn’t want to give coaching a try when he was old and retired from law. He didn’t want to look back and wonder what it would have been like to coach. Thank goodness for the world that Mike Leach gave coaching a try first. The world would have missed out on some classic and memorable Mike Leach moments.

    “Perceive where you’re going, value the journey.” I think Mike valued the journey. I think he will value his new journey. I can picture him, so joyful, reuniting with loved ones now. I can also feel the pain in his heart for the time he will go missing his wife, children, and grandchildren.

    Life is short. We say that to remind ourselves to live it to the fullest. It can also be said to remind ourselves that goodbyes here are always short in the grand scheme. He’ll be united with his family again. He knows that, his family knows that, Grandpa knows that. Death is made bearable in its short-lived victory. Ultimately, death has been defeated already. Its victory is a farce, though the pain we feel is real.

    For a guy who is often described as the most quotable person in football, there’s no more fitting way to end this than with a legitimate Mike Leach quote. When asked how the Mike wanted to be remembered and how the Mike Leach obituary should be written, Mike responded, “well that’s their problem, they’re the one writing the obituary, I mean, what do I care? I’m dead.”

    Mike, we’ll miss you. We’ll see you soon.

  • RIP Coach

    RIP Coach

    I often think about the people God put around me in my life.  I’m obviously not the center of the universe, but sometimes, when I think about all those who have looked out for me throughout my life, it’s hard not to feel like that.

    There’s an individual in my life who played a critical role at two of the most important junctures in my life.  He was a dear friend, coach, mentor. 

    What’s so funny is, Coach Gonzalez never actually coached me.  Jessie Gonzalez was the athletic director at my high school.  Coach Gonzalez got close with most of the teams he looked over as athletic director.  The basketball program was no exception.

    My senior year at Cimarron we went to a tournament in Hawaii.  Coach Gonzalez came on that trip to “watch” us, or chaperone, I guess.  On that trip, Coach Gonzalez went from Coach Gonzalez to Gonzo, or just Coach.

    Gonzo looked out for me throughout high school.  Many don’t know this now, but I needed a lot of looking out for at that time. 

    I had bonded with Gonzo a bit on the Hawaii trip, but he wasn’t someone I would have considered a close friend or confidant.  That is until I really, really needed someone to talk to.  Then he was there, at the most difficult time of my life.  Somehow, for reasons I won’t understand until I see the bigger picture, Gonzo was the phone call I made.  He helped me through some very difficult things. I look forward to speaking to God, and Him showing me how critical that moment was.  I look forward to seeing why Gonzo was there at that precise moment, and why God made sure I reached out to him.

    We stayed in loose contact as I left high school.

    Gonzo had a few of us he took under his wing and looked out for.  I felt truly blessed to be “one of his boys.”

    After high school, this fascinating thing happened where the roles Gonzo played in my life morphed.  He went from 100% mentor to 50% mentor and 50% friend.  Gonzo was only 11 years older than me.  Not that many years, in the grand scheme. 

    In 2015 I went to a birthday party in Houston.  It was a relative of Gonzo’s and made no sense for me to be there.  It was really just an excuse to go to Houston and see Gonzo, who had moved to Michigan, and I hadn’t seen since high school.  That trip is so memorable.  I’m not going to elaborate any further.  During that trip Gonzo stayed a 50% mentor but also became one of my closest friends, a lifelong friend.

    The second, extremely critical cross roads in my life-  I was trying to return to church.  Who did I turn to?  Who talked me through a year plus of difficulty, repentance, trials, temptations, questions, doubts, uncertainties?  Countless hours were spent on the phone with him.  He was going to see me through.

    Gonzo isn’t a member of my church.  He’s a member of a grander organization.  He’s a brother and an angel that was here to look over me and guide me.  I’m not sure I’d be an active member of my church today without his guidance. That was the power of Coach.  He didn’t need to be a member of my church to help me with something so important.  He only needed to listen, love me, help me.

    Another moment I’ll never forget, I was only a couple months into trying to return into activity in the Church.  Satan was hard at work in those first months.  I could go on and on about what he put before me during those months.

    One of those temptations was a staycation at my favorite place at the time, Talking Sticks Resort.  I was still playing poker.  During this weekend that TSR gave me a free suite to stay in, there was a huge summer pool party.  My room overlooked the pool, of course.

    Imagine me for a moment.  Just a couple months into not drinking.  Here I am at Talking Stick Resort, in a super nice room, overlooking a pool filled with beautiful people and all my temptations.  I was literally in the great and spacious building.  I had alcohol in the fridge.  For those who don’t know this feeling, I can’t describe the pull.  I don’t have words to describe the need to drink alcohol, go to the pool, let myself fully embrace this staycation.

    I had worked so hard.  I was going to church and making good choices.  Surely, I could give myself this one weekend, right?

    I was going to drink and join this party.  There was really no doubt.  As much as I told myself I wouldn’t, I was going to. 

    I can’t remember if I called him.  There’s a chance he called me.  I talked to Coach Gonzo.  In true Jessie fashion, he didn’t tell me not to drink.  He talked me through it.  He told me it was a choice I had to make.  He reminded me how hard I’d worked to return to church and stop drinking.

    Then, almost nonchalantly, as if an afterthought, Coach said the most critical thing.  He said, “You can drink and get wild and crazy, but man, after not drinking for as long as you’ve gone, tomorrow is going to suck.  That hangover is going to be bad.  Hangover aside, how are you going to feel about yourself in the morning?”

    That was all I needed to hear.

    For those wondering, I did join the pool party.  I hung out, walked around.  I didn’t embrace the party.  I owe Jessie, Coach, Gonzo for that.  I may owe him my now 5 years of sobriety.

    Jessie Gonzalez left this stage of his coaching journey 6/8/21.  He had some new people to coach and mentor, and he couldn’t do that here.  I will miss him dearly.  I already wonder who I will turn to when I need to be guided through the next trial.  Part of me thinks he could move on because he already got me to the point where I can take care of myself.  Maybe, just maybe, I didn’t need him anymore. The greater and more comforting truth is that you always need a mentor and friend like Gonzo, and he’s still there for me, more than ever now.

    He was light.  And he was joy.  Nobody brought together a room like him. 

    He protected me from harm while here, both physically and spiritually.

    I thought of something interesting last night.  It hit me that Gonzo likely, just recently, had his life review.  It brought me so much joy to think of him getting to see all the good he had done.  I considered him getting to see every moment he impacted me and how big a role he played in my life.  I thought about the net of goodness and light he spread while he was here.

    It brought a smile to my face to know that he got to see his Savior.  He was embraced, and loved, and free from the difficulties of this world.

    He can coach in purity now, for, a purer heart there never was. 

    I miss him a lot now. Though I can’t hear his voice or see his face, he’ll continue to be with me, coaching from above. I look forward to the reunion.

    I love you Jessie, Coach, Gonzo, and I thank you for all you did for me.