To Everything There is a Season

Last weekend ended my fourth season coaching my daughter's recreational soccer team.

Four of the players have been with me since the beginning.

And our first three seasons were dominant.

Yeah yeah, I know. That's a ridiculous adjective to use for a 4v4 soccer league that didn't even have goalkeepers.

But these kids were passionate. They were fast. They had a drive and a hunger to learn the skills of the game. They loved to win.

And I loved teaching them.

Not only to be good soccer players, but to be good people — to listen, to try hard, to be respectful, to be resilient, and to learn, adapt, and grow.

But this season we faced significant adversity.

Which again, I am aware is ridiculous to say and that it was me more than them who faced anything challenging. They, on the other hand, showed up and had fun every week like they were supposed to.

But with several new players (some that had never played the game), new rules (offside, etc. went into effect this year), goalkeepers for the first time, and almost full-size goals (this was a mistake by the league, in my opinion), we did not have the same outcome that we were used to.

To be honest, it took some pressure off once I realized that we were not going to go undefeated this season.

I could just focus on every player getting better at the game.

But I can't help myself.

I'm passionate. I love the game. And I care about the children.

I want to teach them and see them apply the skills and movements they learn.

I want them to listen better and communicate more effectively.

I want them to set good examples for their teammates.

So I do get emotionally invested in the games.

And I do stay up thinking of new games and drills and strategies to try next week.

And I do fuss at the kids when they don't listen or do something disrespectful.

And I do scream with delight and hug and high-five them when they do well.

But our final game this season ended like our first - not playing to our potential.

It's always harder for me—whether I'm playing, coaching, or performing anything—when I know we could have done better.

And I left that day wondering if maybe I'd taken them as far as I could.

I had no idea if the new players and parents who joined for the first time even enjoyed their season.

Maybe they didn't even learn anything!

And if that were true, what was the point. I couldn't tell if I was being sensible or sensitive.

But through that day and the rest of the weekend, I continued to get messages from the parents.

"Our daughter had a great time, Coach Rain! She's already excited about next season and we've already told her friend about you."

"As I tucked him in last night, he got quiet and pensive and said 'Mom, I just really wanted to win our last game for Coach Rain — but I know he's still proud of us for doing our best."

And the best one of all that brought tears to my eyes:

"Hey Coach! Awesome season - thanks for all you did for our son. I truly believe in my heart of hearts that if it wasn’t for you, we’d have a much different kiddo on our hands. But your ability to cultivate his natural inclination for soccer was such a gift - for him & for us as his parents. Because of you & your actual teaching/coaching, he has built a solid foundation of confidence that he did not have before and something that he struggles with in the off-season as the middle man of 3 with rough & tumble brothers. We really cannot thank you enough & will forever credit you with giving him a leg up on building his sense of self in such a positive way. Thank you!"

Well, I sure felt like an idiot after reading that.

This wasn't the season to dominate and face zero challenges.

This was the season to face adversity and to test ourselves.

And those are the seasons of real growth.

Here's the beautiful thing about a good coach/mentor/teacher relationship with an athlete/protege/student:

When it's done right, it is a reciprocal relationship where both parties learn and grow — and become better people because of it.

I'd argue that's true for any relationship.

I wasn't just teaching counter-attacks; I was teaching confidence.

I wasn't just teaching defense; I was teaching determination.

In return, I learned patience, adaptability, and acceptance.

And I learned to focus on the long game, not just today's game.

Some of my favorite moments of the whole season were when we were getting stomped, but kept fighting and finally broke the seal to score in the second half.

Or when I'd see that goalie who had never played make a diving save.

And most importantly, when my players would still be laughing and loving up on each other after a game they just lost.

Life, like soccer, is not about the result.

It's about falling in love with The Beautiful Game.