I spent the weekend in Baltimore with my volleyball kids, playing in the three-day national qualifier there. I went in to it with the intention of just having a good time and giving the kids a great learning opportunity, and that's what we got.
The tough part however was the length of the whole thing. I had to keep nine 17-year old girls happy, focused and motivated. That means keeping on your happy face and promising them it's all going to be good. By the third day, when we suddenly started to tank, I gave all I could.
So that begs the question... who keeps the coach happy and motivated? Granted, I'd much rather be coaching than working, but I also wish I had a support system. The kids have each other and their parents to lean on. There are always plenty of shoulders to cry on for the kids. I can't say I felt like crying, but I didn't feel like I had anyone to support me.
Luckily, my need for support was largely emotional, and not augmented by satanic parents or officials. The problem for me was just that the stress would manifest itself physically in the form of headaches, diarrhea, tight back muscles and such.
There's often no one there to tell you, "Good job," or, "Hang in there, coach." That sucks, and you start to question why you even bother doing it. You don't really get paid (only compensated for expenses), so it sure isn't that.
Then I stopped and remembered all of the little breakthroughs I had with the kids. I finally got into one of their heads and got to understand her, another girl started to really fix one of her greatest skill problems, another started to excel in her role, yet another felt she "fit in." There were all these little victories happening around me and I didn't even realize it.
These are the kinds of triumphs that mean more than the numbers in the score book. They are the things you'll remember a dozen years from now, not what you scored.
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