Call me sexist, old fashioned whatever you'd like, but when my wife and I were blessed with daughters who are definitely my princesses - well I never thought I would end up being a coach. I mean, I don't know anything about dancing, or cheerleading, or drill team, or... you get the picture.
Well I was wrong. (Yes again - go figure.) When my oldest was 7 she decided she wanted to play baseball in the local coach pitch league which prompted my youngest to want to play t-ball. Who knew? Alright I thought, - we'll watch them play for a year, be as supportive as possible, and assure them at the end of the summer that it's okay if they don't want to play anymore. I told myself I would just stay on the sideline, not be too pushy, you know one of "those parents." Then K's coach decided he could not coach. The team was left abandoned. "Do it Jim. You know you want to," I heard from more than one parent - and they were right. So, I got down on one knee and called the team together - "Hi gang," I said "I'm 'Coach B.'"
-I will forever be grateful for the privilege.
I coached in the coach pitch league for two years, both as a head coach and as an assistant for t-ball. I loved that it was a teaching league. We were in the field with the kids teaching them the game. It was incredible. I could write a book, (To be honest I have one started, though I haven't worked on it in years.) especially about that first year. But that was only the first chapter for "Coach B."
When the girls were done with baseball - I didn't know what might come next. K started volleyball the next fall. I knew she hoped I could help out with that. Eagerly she came to me and said "Daddy, I'm playing volleyball this year. Can you help?" I reached back as far as I could, looked down at my daughter, and gave her this sage advice -
"Don't spill your beer."
To me, volleyball was a backyard, family gathering, beach, at the pub game, usually played with beer in hand. I didn't know anything about "real volleyball." I explained this to K. She was cool with that. We moved on. Right about then I figured my time as "Coach B" had come to an end.
Basketball season started.
Now I hadn't played much organized basketball but I had coached one year in a rec league in my early 20's. Of course that ended with me getting thrown out of the gym. It's another story, I was perfectly justified, and I would do it again. Still, I didn't really think I was qualified anymore to be a "head basketball coach." As it turned out, I didn't need to be. Another Dad had the job already. When he asked for help at the team meeting - well I was drawn. I'm just fascinated with the game. I wanted to help, and you know be involved with my daughter. I showed up at the gym - Scott asked me to jump in and I became an assistant - which it turns out I liked even better.
I was the assistant for softball too, (Thanks Matt) and many of "my girls" played on those teams as well.
Yes, "my girls." For those five years, and even still today instead of 3 daughters I sometimes had, or have as many as 10 or 11. I love them all.
As it turns out, for "Coach B," (and later sometimes "Mr. B,") coaching isn't about X's and O's. It's about - well I'm not gonna sit here and blow my own horn...
Today's entry was inspired by this story from one of Annette's co-workers. Believe me, it's worth the read... Go on, I'll wait.
I told you.
Last year, I had some idle time on my hands. My girls had all grown up. Then D's coach asked me to help. Since D has a mean jumper that I love to watch up close and personal - I jumped at the chance.
Who am I kidding I just love coaching. The girls have two years left. Who knows? Maybe then I'll have even more daughters.
I feel so lucky to be "Coach B."
12 hours ago