I've been coaching for many years, and it's an integral part of my identity that will remain unchanged. Over the years, my coaching style has evolved, largely influenced by my advancing age. I've finally settled on a style that I believe is the best.Reflecting on my coaching approach in my earlier years, I can't help but feel a sense of embarrassment. My methods, while effective in yielding results, were not something I'm proud of or how I wanted to be remembered. I used to resort to intimidation and set unreasonable expectations, justifying it as "tough love" and a means of toughening up my players. Many times, during practices or games, I would be heard berating a player for a bad pass or missed slide.I had to remind myself why I embarked on this coaching journey in the first place. It's about teaching young men to take care of themselves both physically and emotionally, instilling a commitment to the team's cause, and helping them become productive members of society.Did any of my players intentionally throw the ball away? Of course not. Did they purposefully let their opponent get the upper hand? No way. Were they berated for missing a math question? Absolutely not.So, as a person whose role is to "teach," why would I treat anyone in such a manner? It's because my definition of winning was solely based on wins and losses.I still hold our players accountable for their actions, but I've abandoned the practice of screaming at them. I've come to realize that volume doesn't determine the level of understanding. Instead, we correct and encourage. A player who errs will have to prove their way back onto the field, but now they've been treated as a valued individual, and hopefully, they'll become better players with the guidance provided.Today, I relish going to practice even more than the games. It's a chance to interact with our young men, get to know them, and be a part of their lives, both on and off the field. It's about building relationships and imparting life lessons through athletics. It's about making the game enjoyable for everyone involved.Do I raise my voice? Certainly. I'm only human. Progress, not perfection, is my goal. But I rarely shout about physical mistakes because it's okay to make them; that's how players learn. What drives me up the wall are mental mistakes, but we must remember that these players are still children, and those will happen.I'm always striving to be a better, more knowledgeable coach. I take pleasure in gathering new drills and plays, which is why I created this site. I've become a better coach by adjusting my expectations and redefining what winning means to me. Now, I want to coach not just to win but to make a lasting difference in the lives of our players.I hope this message isn't new to you but rather a confirmation that you're on the right path. Many of you are, but if not, I encourage you to reconsider your coaching style and philosophy. .


Throughout my extensive coaching journey, my style has evolved, driven by my advancing age. I've moved away from my earlier, less desirable practices rooted in intimidation and unreasonable expectations, which I justified as "tough love." Instead, I now focus on nurturing young men to take care of themselves, fostering a commitment to teamwork, and helping them become productive members of society. I've realized that berating players for mistakes doesn't align with my role as an educator. While I still maintain accountability, I've abandoned the practice of screaming and prioritize correction and encouragement. My coaching now centers on building relationships, imparting life lessons, and making the game enjoyable for all. I aim for progress, not perfection, and my ultimate goal is to make a positive difference in the lives of our players. If you're on a similar journey, I hope this message reinforces your path, and if not, I encourage you to reconsider your coaching philosophy.