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Stories |
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to?
I coach an 11-year-old a travel team in Windsor, Ontario, Canada. I have been coaching youth sports for 32 years now. I always try to show how what you learn in sports can carry over to real life. Recently, our pre-game speech got around
to how to show class on the ice. Do not trash talk, respect the officials
and the opponents. After two or three minutes on this topic, it was
time to take the ice. All the players got up and headed out the door. One
player, a very polite and nice boy, came back in with a concerned look on
his face. I asked what was wrong and he asked, "Do we have to do
that class stuff?" |
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My name is David Norton. Jerry is my father, the author of the book so shamelessly plugged here on this site. I can remember a few of the stories in the book, but I'd like to relate one that happened to me personally. |
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When I was young, like most kids my age, I played football. And it always seemed like I was one of the smaller kids. Everyone else seemed so much bigger and stronger. I've never been a big guy (except in the mid-section), but it wasn't until years later that I found out that this was because I was younger than most of the other kids I played with. Consequently, I always had to work harder than everyone else - or maybe, in retrospect, it just seems that way. Maybe it was the fact that my Dad was one of the coaches, but I remember working hard on techniques, and always watching and listening very carefully to the coaches - making sure to block the right man, keep moving, etc. |
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During one game, I had been selected to be on the kick return team. At the time, I was new to "special teams". I had played center before, but this was new. I remember one coach had spent time telling us what our assignment was as the kick return front line. We were supposed to block for the ball carriers - the guys behind us. That's all. We weren't supposed to touch the ball - just block. Well, I took that sage advice, and I was ready to do my best blocking. It was my first time on kick return. I was psyched! As soon as the ball was kicked, I'd meet whoever was in front of me, and just let him have it. I'd flatten him! Unfortunately, I had taken the coach's advice a little too much to heart. When the ball was kicked, the ball came right at me. In fact, it would have hit me square in the chest... if I hadn't ducked. Because I remember what he told me; don't touch the ball! |
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I don't really remember too much of what happened afterwards; if I made my block or not. But I do remember the coach yelling at me after the play was over, "What was that? Why didn't you catch the ball?!?" To which I could only respond, "But... you told me not to coach." |
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I suppose there is a moral here. Be careful what you tell the kids you coach, they might take you literally. |
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Here is a short story about a young boy named Dylan who played on our Pop Warner Mighty Mite football team a few years ago. Dylan missed a scrimmage game we had scheduled so when I saw him at the next practice I asked him about it. "I couldn't come to the game Saturday. I had to go to Disney World," Dylan replied. |
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When I looked at him with a fishy eye, he added, "Honest, coach, my mom made me go!" Poor Mom. She always seems to be the scapegoat, if you believe the kids. |
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