Too Much

When my daughter Jordan was in kindergarten, out of no where she decided to try and play basketball. I knew nothing about the game. I played baseball, football and tennis. I introduced Jordan to multiple sports and she played all of them well. Basketball was not on my radar.

When your 6 year old asks to play basketball, you lean in and say, "sure thing, let me find out where to sign you up." Luckily, our local JCC ran a fairly large girls league and we started right away. Her first team was the Seattle Storm and a young high school girl, Charlotte, was her coach.

Jordan had never dribbled nor shot a basketball before and I could quickly tell that her entire team was comprised of non-players. The ideas of defense and offense made no sense to them. The one girl who could dribble 10 feet without losing control of the ball was quickly identified as the point guard. It was funny and cute as hell. 

After only three practices, the games started. I was enthusiastically curious to see how they could possibly keep two teams of clueless kids focused enough to make it a game. I figured it would be hysterical. My prognostication was a little off.

The game started with the other team passing, weaving and scoring quickly. Jordan's team, the Storm, tried to pass the ball in and could barely make to half court (defense at this age starts at half court). As the point guard passed the line for half court, the ball was immediately stolen and the other team scored again. The other team was highly skilled. We lost that first game 42-1. One of our girls was fouled and somehow managed to make one free throw.

This scenario repeated game after game, team after team. Coach Charlotte regularly canceled our once a week practice, missed games and seemed disinterested in coaching. I discovered that our team was the result of a players draft and the other coaches picked the good players. Charlotte was not at the draft. The unknown, untalented and clueless players were all undrafted and were then placed on a team without a coach. The league's management searched for a coach for the misfits. They found Charlotte, a high school ball player, who agreed to to coach the girls in exchange for volunteer hours.

I was worried that the winless season would end Jordan's basketball interest. It didn't even phase her. She wanted me to sign her up for the next season which started immediately. Rather than enduring another round with a coach who didn't give a shit, I volunteered to coach, even though it was a sport I knew nothing about. I figured if all that I did was consistently show up and make it fun for the kids, I would be a better coach than Charlotte.

Draft day began with player evaluations. As the kids were on display, seasoned coaches were already scheming ways to maximize the talent on their teams. I quietly watched and took notes. I went into the draft room and discovered that coaches made deals, partnered up, offered concessions and otherwise did away with all of the top players before a single pick was made. I was in the back of the room and I don't think anyone even noticed I was there. I walked to the front and called total bullshit and I demanded that the head of the league to come in the draft room. I forced them to spread the talented players around and make it fair for each team. Two of the father-coaches got so pissed off they walked out saying, "you guys just pick my fucking team and let me know who I have." I made some enemies that day.

I may have won the moment in the draft, but I was determined not to be shut out with no wins during the season. I needed a game plan. I needed to teach these kids how to play, at least a little. So I studied coaching on You Tube for hours. My wife made fun of me every day, "Do you think this is the NBA?" The studying and effort by the kids paid off. We won our first game. Then we won again. I made a ton of coaching mistakes, often that almost lost the game for us, but we kept winning. We ended with an amazing season and won the championship.

I enjoyed coaching basketball and I coached both of my girls, Jordan and Morgan, for the next 8 years. That's 3 season per year for 8 years per child. At times, I would partner with tremendously skilled coaches to learn new systems and methods. Over the years, I kept absorbing all I could about basketball skills, training, coaching, offensive plays, defensive strategies and mechanics. I even started regularly playing basketball myself. Jordan's initial love for the game turned me into a basketball fan.

Jordan is now a starter on her high school varsity team and she is only in ninth grade; a tremendous accomplishment. After a recent preseason tournament, she wanted to talk to me. She wanted me to back off. She told me I was too much. She asked me not to talk basketball to her anymore. She said I was a JCC coach and now she is playing real basketball and I don't know what I'm doing.

At this last tournament, between games, I told her that she was open often and when she got the ball, she needed to shoot. She is a great shot and her team is depending on her to shoot. My message got through, but not in the way I hoped. The next game she played like she was second guessing everything. She was flat. She hardly shot. She was off. Way off.

My presence and advice had put an odd pressure on Jordan; it threw her off her game. She is 14 and has her hopes of playing college ball. She is on a path of her choosing and is hyper focused. My journey as a coach has ended. It was hard to realize that I'm not part of the team anymore; I'm no longer her coach. If I'm lucky, I can still be a fan, a silent fan from the way back.