Megan can play basketball. She scores with ease, and surprises
herself with her agility and athleticism. She can shake defenders, get
to the basket, and create shots. She's a slasher (like her old man,
before he got old). Megan's no Usain Bolt in a sprint, but she's got
lateral quickness and good hands. Let's hope she has a killer instinct,
too. If so, she didn't get it from me. She has a nice irrepressibility,
that's for sure. If I can get her to be as crabby about losing as she is
about lots of other things... well then, I think she'll spurn
mediocrity and be very good.
Megan’s team lost another
game on Saturday, though. My girls have a losing record now. If you want
something to agonize over, just coach some kids. Works for me, at
least. If the kids are great – and thankfully, every kid I’ve coached
has been terrifically unrotten – the process is a marvelous inducer of a
kind of brutal, whiplashing bipolarity. It’s a rollercoaster for me,
anyway. VICTORY! Defeat. MANIA! Depression. Clarity! Confusion. High-flyin’ confidence! Soul-crushing doubt. The girls are smiling, frowning, laughing, crying. I’m a skilled second-guesser, but I suspect many of us are. How
much potential have I left uncoaxed? Should I coach the girls to defend
harder? Should I urge them to be more aggressive, even if they bump and
collide and hurt each other? Blah, blah, blah. Thoughts like this
are a broken record in my head. The kids are bright, energetic, eager,
earnest, impressionable, and aware of their performance. I allow this to
ratchet up my hopes for them, and for me as a coach, and for us as a
team. Maybe I’m too wishful, too empathic, too sensitive. This, of
course, is bullshit, and a poor and maybe-not-even-true excuse I
overuse. No matter, because I am still coaching and plan to continue. I
just want very badly for my players to improve, be comfortable, express
themselves, enjoy, and WIN, GODDAMMIT!
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