... Megan's girls basketball team (although this year I'm only an assistant) and on Megan as a ballplayer:
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 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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