UConnCat
Wise Woman
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Nice piece in Esquire by a former athlete and current Mom on the value of old-school coaches.
http://www.esquire.com/blogs/culture/old-school-coaches
When someone is bearing down on us, jamming a thick finger at our faces, it's a make-or-break moment. Are you really trying your best? Or can you go further? Deeper into yourself, for the benefit of the people around you? Usually you can.
The old-school coach also teaches old-fashioned penance. Also a good thing.
I can't deal with yelling parents. I loathe yelling teachers. But you want your kid to learn how to physically and mentally find their limit? Find an old dude with a whistle around his neck and a stopwatch. I wouldn't be who I am without the ones who forced me to field unwieldy short hop grounders for a half-hour after softball practice to make me less afraid of the unexpected — and of pain. (I think it was good prep for parenting, now that I think of it.)
I've had _____ who torture you because they're into that sort of thing. They're the ones who make you play through the knee injury (or, in my quarterback brother's case, through the ruptured spleen that nearly killed him). They bench you because they don't like you, or they make you run because they like watching lady bounce. Or _____ like Mike Rice, who aren't smart enough to teach you, so they'll degrade you instead, fueled by unnamed furies that they desperately hope will dissipate by causing a kid harm.
I am not in favor of that kind of coach.
http://www.esquire.com/blogs/culture/old-school-coaches
When someone is bearing down on us, jamming a thick finger at our faces, it's a make-or-break moment. Are you really trying your best? Or can you go further? Deeper into yourself, for the benefit of the people around you? Usually you can.
The old-school coach also teaches old-fashioned penance. Also a good thing.
I can't deal with yelling parents. I loathe yelling teachers. But you want your kid to learn how to physically and mentally find their limit? Find an old dude with a whistle around his neck and a stopwatch. I wouldn't be who I am without the ones who forced me to field unwieldy short hop grounders for a half-hour after softball practice to make me less afraid of the unexpected — and of pain. (I think it was good prep for parenting, now that I think of it.)
I've had _____ who torture you because they're into that sort of thing. They're the ones who make you play through the knee injury (or, in my quarterback brother's case, through the ruptured spleen that nearly killed him). They bench you because they don't like you, or they make you run because they like watching lady bounce. Or _____ like Mike Rice, who aren't smart enough to teach you, so they'll degrade you instead, fueled by unnamed furies that they desperately hope will dissipate by causing a kid harm.
I am not in favor of that kind of coach.
