Frommy’s World

This year I’ve taken on one of the most difficult, yet interesting coaching positions I’ve ever endured. I’m the High School’s C-squad Girl’s Soccer Coach.

You may be thinking, “Frommy, what’s so hard about coaching a girl’s c-squad team? It’s not varsity for crying out loud.” This line of thinking is why the job doesn’t pay as it should. However, the discerning language here is “girl’s c-squad”.

I’ve been coaching both girl’s and boy’s sports within the school district the past four years now. I’ve had undefeated teams who play at a peak level and teams still searching who’ve never won a game. I’ve coached A-teams, B-teams, and JV teams. But nothing has tested my years of training as much as my girl’s C-squad soccer team.

We’re not laden with talent, nor have we won a bunch of games (two), yet I knew this to be the case before I even agreed to the position. Sure, it is difficult to struggle through a season and not perform at a level I’m more accustom to, but it is the intricacies or underlying story that make this job what it is…easier said than done.

To date I have had at least half of my girl’s in tears. Not because they lost games, but because I’ve corrected deficiencies, furthered their fitness regimen, and was intolerant to passive-aggressive behavior. In other words, coaching.

Yes, I’ve raised my voice and have given unsympathetic stares. I’ve made them run and have scolded them for the sake of not listening or paying attention. I’ve sat girls for tardiness and not making practice, and have even told their boyfriends to go home.

Coaching these girls is the least of my duties, yet it is the only one I applied for when the position opened. The following items were not found in the fine print of the job posting:

• Must deal with athlete’s boyfriend.
• When an athlete is to spend the evening with one of her girlfriends, said girlfriend takes precedence over said game.
• Athletes may (will) schedule family vacations, doctor appointments, hair appointments, early-release to musicals, church, and extra curricular school events within season.
• Asking an athlete to run is merely a metaphor for I’m grumpy and I don’t like you.
• Speaking directly to an athlete is the same as yelling at the athlete.
• If one athlete asks to use the restroom during halftime or pre-game warm ups, expect to lose your entire bench for the duration.
• Sending an athlete up or down (e.g., from c-squad to JV) is the athlete’s choice, not the coaches.
• Practice attire is a fashion statement, not as a means to use for running, jumping, stretching, or the weather at hand.
• Body language is the expressive right of the athlete and should not be confused with or punished as a verbal confrontation.
• The school bus is a forum for the athlete to discus boyfriends, parents, and other girl’s behind their backs.
• Telling your athletes that they are out of shape is rude and the same as telling them that they are fat.

These and other items have fallen upon me as a coach this season. I’ve handled each situation with my fatherly know-how (grunt and groan) and have endured my inept moments with the little bit of grace I’ve been granted. That is, I’m continuing to struggle through what has been the most out of the ordinary of ordinary seasons. However, as the confounding becomes more commonplace and the season wears on I’ve began to appreciate my time, my team…my girls.

Next week we finish with three games and a depleted bench. I’m excited because two of the three games should be competitive giving us a chance to add one final victory. Also, I have girls who have shown tremendous improvement and are starting to find their way. In some ways I’m saddened that the season has finally come to end. I’m going to miss the attitude, the tears, and the long voluble bus rides home from games out of town. But every ending has a new beginning, and that also starts next week when seventh grade girl’s basketball tryouts begin…here I go again.