18 Life Lessons I Learned Coaching Kids Football That Matter to You

“I look at you and I see two men:  the man you are, and the man you ought to be.  Someday those two will meet.  Should make for a hell of a football player.” – The Replacements

I actually did buy a book on coaching which was pretty helpful – the first year it was helpful to the other team. 

It was August.  It’s hot here almost every August, but that’s to be expected since I haven’t been able to move into a mall so I could enjoy a constant 72°F temperature with ambient lighting and strangely inoffensive Muzak® versions of Ozzy Osborne’s Crazy Train.

No, no mall for me.  As I stood there in the blistering August sunshine, I was surrounded by the cream of the crop of football athleticism in the county ready for their first practice.

I began my speech:

“You may think you have known tough in your life, but I assure you that within the next few practices you will endure pain and hardship like you’ve never known.  You will become killing machines.  You will learn to revel in the annihilation of your opponent.  You will desire nothing more than to utterly devastate him just so you can go to sleep with the memory of the sounds of the lamentations of his mother bringing a smile to your face.”

One of the players raised a hand.

“Coach Wilder, Momma wants to know if she could bring cupcakes to the practices.  For after.”

Okay, so they were third and fourth graders.

And I didn’t really say that.  I did, however tell them this:

“Our first game is on the first Wednesday in September.  We have exactly nine practices – that’s 18 total hours – before the first game.  We can’t afford to miss a single minute.  If you’re late to practice, take a lap.  If you miss practice and it’s not excused by me, you may not be able to play.”

I know it was only PeeWee® football, but this wasn’t my first year coaching.  I’d helped as an assistant coach for The Boy.  Now he was playing school league football in junior high, and it was Pugsley’s turn to be on the recreation league team.  And after my rookie head coaching effort the previous year, I was determined to do better.  I was worried about the press from ESPN® – they can be brutal, especially after I’d signed that huge contract that stipulated I got a free cookie every game.  If I bought them for the team.

Bill Parcells, former Super Bowl® winning football coach, said, “You are what your record says you are.”  With the previous year’s team, we were 3-5.  We were not great, even though I had the very best pair of running backs in the county.  Our record was my responsibility.  And that’s one of the reasons that people use sports metaphors – sports is clean.  “We were a great team” doesn’t really cut it.  We were a 3-5 team.  That’s not great, unless you’re the Cleveland Browns©, in which case it’s purely amazing.

The other nice thing about sports is that it’s well defined and immediate in a way that’s different than a lot of things in life.  There are the rules that determine the way the game is played.  The field is the boundary on where it’s played.  And both teams will show up Saturday morning at 10AM.  You know when it’s going to be played.

There are no excuses.  There is no gray area.  And due to league rules, every team has exactly the same number of practice hours available to them.  The difference?  How you use them, and I felt I could do better than 3-5.  I had to protect that contract.

Our first set of practices were intense, but mainly intense for the coaches – we were looking to see who had talent, who had speed, and who had heart.  And, frankly, we were a bunch of dads, not an NFL® coaching combine.  I knew about most of the kids, but one big surprise was a gangly young kid who could run.  We put him in at tight end, even though he didn’t know much about football.

I had a plan for every practice until that first game day.  I handed out rules to all of the parents.  I handed out schedules of practices to my assistant coaches, with the practices broken down minute by minute and what we were going to cover each day along with the plays we were going to install, and when we were going to install them.  What, do you think third grade football is a kids’ game???

I love clever plans.  That’s why when I find one, I steal it.

It finally came down to game day.  With third and fourth graders, a coach was allowed to be on the field, and I was with my offense.  Our first game was away – at the biggest rival our town had.  The game had gone back and forth, and we were up by 5 points.

The opposing coach took a time out.  His last time out

I was puzzled . . . why?  It was second and six.  No real reason, right?

I couldn’t see the scoreboard – so I asked the official.  “How much time is left?”

“One minute, fifty seconds.”

Holy cow!  I had no idea that the game was that close to being over.  I went back into the huddle with the team.  “Guys, if we make this first down, we’ve won the game.  Think we can do it?”

“Yeah!”

They did it, on a nice little off tackle run to the left side of the field, by my tight end.  Three plays later . . .

We won!

And we kept winning until we were 5-0.  Most teams we were beating by 30 points or more, and we were able to get every kid lots of time to play.  The next game, we were up against that team we had played first.  I walked out onto the field with the team.  They seemed . . . flat.  Really flat.  Over confident.

Right before kickoff, I said:  “Guys, if you don’t take this seriously, you’re gonna get beaten out there.”

Beaten wasn’t the word for it.  They got destroyed.  Which was just what they needed.  Because of that loss they got hungry again, but lost a close game the following week.

I didn’t lie to the kids or try to make it sound good.  We had one game left, and our record was 5-2.  If we lost, the team that we were playing would go to the championship game.  If we won?  We would play for the championship.  It was simple.  Parcells would have been proud of my honesty.

Bill Parcells, robotic football mastermind.

The game was back and forth.  As halftime approached, we were down by 14 points.  We had thirty seconds left.  Our team managed to get four plays off in that thirty seconds, and we came away with eight points.

But now momentum was on our side, and we got the ball back in the second half.  We scored on the opening drive and never looked back.  We were going to the championship, because the kids were what their record says they were.  As coaches we just helped them find it.

I learned a lot coaching youth sports.  Why is this post on Wealthy Wednesday?  Because I think that what I learned pertains directly to productivity and focus, which should add to your bottom line in anything.

Lesson 1.  If you’re the coach, know what the score is and how much time is left.  It’s what your players expect.  If you’re in charge of something, know how it’s doing.

Lesson 2.  It’s easy to be a jerk parent if you don’t know what the coach is going through.  I’ve been a jerk parent in the past.  Heck, I’m still a jerk parent, but now I at least know when I’m being a jerk parent.  Know when you’re being a jerk.  It makes being a jerk that much more enjoyable.

Lesson 3.  I am totally faster than almost every third grader in town.  Over a short distance.  If I have a head start.

Lesson 4.  Keep kids busy and occupied during practice – no dead time.  Why?  Kids want to work.  They want to be engaged.  They want to contribute.  They want to get better.  When they’re just standing around, none of this is happening.  As a coach, it’s your job to help them to understand how to get better and how they best fit on the team.

Lesson 5.  Be honest with your team.  They know when you’re not.  Telling them a pretty lie ends up with them losing all respect for you.  Even a third grader can look up at the scoreboard and see if they’re winning or losing.  Honesty matters.

Lesson 6.  Know that there is a deadline built into the game.  There’s one in life, too, even when it’s not apparent.

Lesson 7.  Skip stretching.  Third graders don’t pull muscles.  Me?  I need to stretch – I could snap a kidney getting out of bed.  Spend your time where it’s appropriate.  Don’t spend time doing things only because everyone else does it.

Lesson 8.  Don’t be overconfident.  Paranoia is your friend.  It helps you prepare.  It drives you to see your weaknesses.  It drives you to improve every little detail you can.  And it explains why your neighbor watches you mow the lawn, taking notes the entire time.

Lesson 9.  Be ruthless on small infractions like being late to practice.  Then big infractions don’t happen.  Getting the little things done, and done right, matters.

Lesson 10.  It’s a game.  It should be fun.  Corollary:  games are more fun when you win.  Life should be fun, too.  Second corollary:  If you always win?  Boring.  There have to be stakes worth playing for.

Lesson 11.  When you lose?  Learn from it – very few people learn from winning.  Thankfully, you will lose.  Winning is more fun, but the right loss with the right lesson might be more important for your future.

Lesson 12.  Laugh at your own mistakes when you make them.  Unless you’re a surgeon.  That’s kind of a bad time to do that.  Laugh later if you’re a surgeon.  Or a bodyguard.  Or my lawyer.

Lesson 13.  The number of hours and minutes before the season is over is set on day one.  Make the most of them.  Assume the number of full moons and sunsets that you get to see are limited, too.  Make the most of them, but not in a middle-aged lady “YOLO” way.  We don’t need another one of those movies – ever.

Lesson 14.  Every drill, every practice, every game – start with the end in mind.  Focus on the goal.  Every day, every task, every job at work.  Focus on the goal.

Lesson 15.  The end result is up to you as a coach or as a player.  Or as an owner.  Sure there are bad breaks.  Tons of reasons that you can explain away failure.  “You are what your record says you are.”

Lesson 16.  Third graders suck at throwing and catching.  Keep it on the ground.  Play to your strengths and against your weaknesses.  Don’t expect your players to do things they can’t.  Don’t expect the poo-flinging monkeys you work with to write Shakespearean sonnets while doing calculations involving quantum mechanics.  Not going to happen.  Work to the things they’re good at.  Like poo-flinging.

Lesson 17.  A PeeWee© season is short, less than 8 weeks long.  You have to make every minute count.  How is that different than life?

Our team made it to the Championship Game.  Except they didn’t call it that.  They called it the REGISTERED TRADEMARK OF THE NFL© game at the end of the year.  Yup.  Rhymes with “Uper Rowl.”

We were warming up, and our star tight end who had been a great player all season and often scored two or three touchdowns a game . . . was hurt.  His ankle wouldn’t allow him to play.  I talked to his grandpa.  He said, “There was no way he wasn’t going to suit up for this game . . . .”

As we ended up the first half, we were up by a touchdown – a good, tightly played game.  I hate those – I like blowouts.

We got the ball first in the second half.  Our first play, like every single one of our offensive plays that game, was to the right side.  The left side had fallen asleep.  I ran a reverse to the left, the one where our tight end normally carried the ball.  But this time, the backup tight carried the ball.  When he got to the end, there was nothing but green, open field to the end zone.  After that, we could score at will.  They were broken.  There is nothing better than outsmarting a defense consisting of third and fourth graders into utter confusion.  Oh, wait . . . that sounds bad.

When we had a nice buffer, we substituted deeply – we put lots of kids in positions they’d never played, just for fun.  When it was about 20 seconds left in the game, I called a timeout.  We were up by 21 points.

In kid football, a referee will refuse to grant you a timeout if he thinks you’re being a jerk.  I looked at him.  “Trust me.”

The referee looked over to the sideline and saw my injured tight in hobbling onto the field.  He understood.  He wouldn’t allow the timeout, but he made sure that the clock allowed for one final play so the tight end could get in for the big win.

We had won the REGISTERED TRADEMARK OF THE NFL© game.  I’m just glad I didn’t let them down.

Lesson 18.  Be faithful to those that helped you along the way.  It will make your utter betrayal of them later even more sweet.