If you have kids in youth sports or have friends who have had kids in youth sports, you’ve seen all the YouTube videos or Instagram posts or even national news coverage about coaches. There’s the coach with the mouth that would make a sailor uncomfortable. The coach with the attitude. The coach desperately reliving the glory days, whether real or imagined. The coach who under-communicates. The coach who is over-committed. The coach who threatens the 16-year old ref. The coach who gets kicked out of the league. The coach with epic sideline tantrums, throwing down his playbook/binder/hat or whatever nearby item is convenient to turn into a projectile. The coach with good ideas but terrible organization. The coach who causes players to quit the team and, yes, even worse, the coach who makes his or her player quit the sport entirely.
In between, there are also a lot of truly wonderful people. Mothers, fathers, retirees or other volunteers with level heads and hearts of gold.
I got into coaching when my oldest was pretty young. It wasn’t because I thought I fancied myself as an incredible sideline strategist, a sort of amalgamated second coming of Vince Lombardi, Doc Rivers and Bill Walsh.
I did it for several reasons. First, again without believing eventually I’ll be “called up” to the pros, I do know at least something about sports. Second, I tend to be organized. Third, I’m punctual. Fourth, I’m fairly even keeled. I’m by no means perfect and I can lose my patience, but I don’t tend to routinely spaz out and throw a daily tantrum. Fifth, I believe I can effectively balance fun with skill development. Lastly, as the saying goes, an important part of your ability is your availability and I make myself available.
That last one was very much intentional. I’ve talked with a bunch of older guys or retirees in the business world who told me how much stuff they missed when their kids were young. Not to digress into a commentary about gender roles but the fact is, there was a time when that was the norm for men in this country. When I became a dad, I didn’t want to be that man. I figured if I was going to be at the practices and games anyway, I might as well lend a hand.
All that to say that over the course of many leagues in a couple different sports, one of the more interesting things you absorb is the dynamic between parents and coaches. Right or wrong, one tends to recognize “types” of parents and by parents here I’m talking only about those you did not already know before the team/season. Plus, I’m talking about situations where the coach is a volunteer, not leagues where the coach is actually paid.
First, there is the continuity parent. They want to extend what you’re doing at home. They introduce themselves early on and will often ask directly, “What are some things we can do at home?” These parents are great.
Next, there is the helper parent. You get to know them by name because they volunteer to film the games or bring snacks or help set up the tents. These people are also fantastic.
Then there is the confiding parent. They share with you that their kid is having trouble at school or home or that they are dealing with a bullying situation. You can’t help but want to be in their corner and want to build that kid up.
Of course, the stereotype is unfortunately true that there is the full-ride parent. They’re tolerant of your coaching for now only because they know it to be destiny that, in a matter of time, their prodigy will be under the tutelage of the staff at [insert name of perennial powerhouse university.] You know them but it isn’t really a friendly relationship. It’s like a chilly and decidedly temporary relationship.
There’s the bleacher coach parent. They have not signed up to coach but they are still very much doing it. They might feel they’re “helping you out” but this isn’t a well-coordinated joint effort. They’re acting independently and their nonstop exhorting the kids with directions causes noise and confusion.
Sometimes related is the i-in-team parent whose kid certainly should be getting the ball more or getting more playing time. You want to kindly nudge these folks to strongly consider individual sports like cross country, golf, billiards, bowling or tennis so they don’t have to suffer through the awful drudgery of, ugh, teammates! They grumble often through intermediaries instead of directly. They’ve never coached.
That’s just a sample and I’m sure I am missing some. However, the reality is that all these types are the minority of parents on the squad. The majority? They’re the low profile unknowns. I’ve coached teams of 30 kids where presumably there are 50 parents, taking into account some single-parent households. Plus, often there are some grandparents too that are regulars at games and practices. So to use rough numbers that could be 65 adults.
At the end of the season, there are lots of them who I couldn’t pick out of a police line-up. I wouldn’t know them from Adam or Eve if I was in line behind them at Ace Hardware.
The same can be true with brands. On one end, you have your staunch supporters. On the other, you have (what is hopefully not too many) loud dissenters. You also have EVERYONE ELSE which can be a veritable truckload of your customers. They’re unmistakably part of what you’re doing/selling/offering. There is technically a customer-brand relationship but you’re not sure where you stand in that relationship.
The moral of the story is this. If you’re at the helm of your brand, don’t let this unknown “muddle in the middle” continue without making the effort to get to know them. They just might have a fascinating point-of-view or a great suggestion to help you improve.
Also, it’s the holiday season. Give the gift of appreciation and have your kid write a surprise card or thank-you note to a coach. It’ll brighten up that coach’s day and your child will learn something that transcends the field of play.
