And then the wishbone snapped: there was no escaping the fact that I would not be there for my players in the moments that mattered most. It ate at me, but there was a simple solution: I had to make their success independent of my presence. From that moment onwards, my work as a coach was cutout for me. I had to be very purposeful with the month of practices and games that were left, and use them to shift the power of the team from coach to player. I became not just a coach, but a self-destructive one. My mission was to make myself irrelevant.
No game starts when the whistle blows. It starts with warm-ups. Systems. Cones. Movements. Assigning captains. Ensuring players respect their captains’ directions.
We spent 30 minutes of practice mid-season walking through our pre-game warmups. Our next game, the team tried it out. It was sloppy, slow, uncoordinated, and unfocused. It was frustrating for the captains when their teammates did not listen to them. Our pre-game talk was 30 seconds of who is starting, and 3 minutes of the problems we saw, and the ways we would fix them. Loss, 1-0.
Next week, 15 minutes of practice time spent on pre-game warmups. Sharper, smoother, purposeful. Next game, the cones were there, the players listened, the warmup happened. But there was no fire. No focus. There was no urgency. 30 seconds for who was starting, 3 minutes of how to self-correct teammates to make every moment of warmups as intense as the game. Tie, 1-1.
Next week, no practice time spent on pre-game warmups. Next game, I spent 30 seconds before we got off the bus to assign captains and reviewed how the players would make warmups sharp, smooth, purposeful, and focused. 4-2 win.
Next game: playoff quarterfinals. I simply hand Daniel and Axel the captain armbands as they get off the bus. Sharp, smooth, purposeful, focused. 5-0 win.
Next game, the true test of self-destruction: the semifinals. It was against our toughest opponent. We had won a pre-season scrimmage by coming back from 3-0 down to win 4-3, but we lost 6-2 in the league game a few weeks later. On top of the loss, our team was rattled by parent and fan behavior off the field: yelling at players, accusations of racist comments – it was a mental mess. However, the reality of the game was inescapable: I would not be on the sidelines as their coach in the moments that mattered the most. The snapped wishbone sat heavily in the pit of my stomach. The knot in my brain’s muscle tied itself tighter. I knew they were ready, but I was nervous. Had I self-destructed enough for them to win without their coach?
Coaching independence and self-ownership in a soccer team accounts for the simple reality that someday, the coach will not be there. Every season ends. Teams and coaches move on. By moving my season’s end up a few days, one team of kids truly proved what is possible, and I could not be more proud.
