Trust Your Gut: Making Unconventional Choices

A good coach trusts her instincts, even if it makes her stand out.

On my first day with the trapped team, I carved out a big chunk of practice to get to know each other. I didn’t even get the balls out.

We warmed up, stretched, and then we played silly name games. I mixed them up and taped a sheet of paper on their backs. Each sheet had a single word on it, like ‘Ketchup’, ‘Mustard’, ‘Mac’, ‘Cheese’, ‘Rock’, or ‘Roll’. They had to find out “who” they were by talking to the people around them, and then they had to go find their other half. Once they had found their partner, they talked together for a few minutes. Then, one at a time, each pair introduced themselves to the group. I learned their names, and they started getting to know the strangers they’d have to play with for the next few months. I had them play games like this until everyone could recite everyone else’s names to the group in a big circle.

Embarrassing? Probably. Essential? I hoped so.

I was desperately self-conscious of this decision.

Two of the most senior coaches at the club were coaching their own teams on the same field. I knew they could see us milling around, talking and laughing for half an hour. I knew I was the only female coach out there. They were running intense sessions, with players moving on and off the ball as they shouted instructions, feedback, and corrections. My part of the field may as well have been playing a completely different sport, for how different our practices looked.

Parents watched me curiously over the fence. The girls looked at me funny when I explained what we were about to do. Maybe fifteen feels too old to be playing name games, but I’ve been fifteen before and I knew how powerful a name could be. I hoped that it would be a good investment of our time. And I had to appear steady and firm in spite of the awkward, self-conscious, unsure, anxious way I really felt inside. 

After that practice, everybody knew each other’s names and positions and where they went to school and some of their favorite things – the small but necessary seeds for new friendships. I knew that they had to know each other in order to want to come back next time: that was my job that day.

I felt odd and weird and proud and vulnerable, and I walked to my car after practice without saying a word to any of the other coaches. I didn’t have the strength to talk about it, not that they would’ve even asked me. But I drove home with a tiny achy feeling inside, thinking, “I’m not sure what I’m doing. But I think I just did the right thing. At least, I hope so.”

The vulnerability required to do it your way - to do it your way even if it looks and sounds and feels at odds with everybody else’s way - charges a high price. You risk being misunderstood. You risk feeling embarrassed. You might be called out. You might be questioned or judged or shamed or even just teased.

Do it your way anyway. Be educated, thoughtful, and kind about your way, and then be brave and tell the truth when someone asks you about it. With a high price comes a high reward:

All twenty-four girls were there at our next practice. 

See you tomorrow!