I Didn’t See It

Some here know that I used to coach high school kids. There were four seasons of girls soccer, two seasons of boys soccer, two seasons of girls lacrosse, and a club season of under-19 boys. Most of these years were highly successful, including my last year as head coach of the small private school where I taught. This is a brief(ish) story from that year when I didn't see the biggest goal we scored that season, and how that was a good thing.

Prelude

The team was young, and I named one senior and one sophomore as captains. There was something to this because I had that experience as a sophomore and it was personally a huge thing. But leadership is leadership. There was a freshman I would have been comfortable with, and another senior I'm certain should have been a captain except he argued with referees. Often.

We were on a tear. Our worst result was a 2-2 tie with a rival private school just up the road, the school where I coached for four years. The team didn't overwhelm anyone, though there was a tidy 4-1 win over a side we expected would be a handful. The team didn't lack for talent in previous years, but the boys didn't know how to win. We opened that door, but didn't consistently finish teams we should have.

My attitude toward winning is that it isn't everything. I just hate losing. Yes, hate. But I don't mind it if the team plays to a high level. We weren't there yet, but two big things were there: they wanted it and they scrapped for it. We took an undefeated record into our match with the state's biggest high school.

The Match

The seniors saw a victory against this team in their first year, but it was a different coach, a different mentality, and a very different tactical approach. Two players had potential Division I talent and the game plan that day was kick it long and let one of them run onto it; hope for the best. That is not a winning attitude.

Our approach was the same for every match: play short, quick passes and keep possession. This was not ironclad. If opportunities presented themselves, they should be taken. We empowered our players to make the decisions. If you don't have the ball, work to get open and show to the ball (quick steps toward a teammate with the ball) to make certain it's not intercepted. In basketball parlance, it's a motion offense with ten players (excepting the goalkeeper) on a 110 x 72 yard field.

Would it work against the best team we'd face all season? That would come down to the intensity of each individual.

The Team

Intensity was generally not a problem, though it had been the previous year. This team was on the younger side and a bit undersized because of it. One-on-one battles for the ball are tough when you're not as developed, but, in my opinion, it's not always whether you win that battle; it's that you choose to fight it that makes a big difference.

The lineup was not without controversy. My selection of goalkeepers favored a sophomore over a junior who clearly expected the position. They were equals in every category--intuitive, smart players--except one: "physicality." That was the word I used when telling the junior he would be the backup. He thought it was nonsense, but the debate was over when the starter saved two penalty kicks en route to a pre-season tournament victory. Still, my backup had a big role to play in this story.

Otherwise we had strong forward talent and solid midfield play. On defense, I added the burden of introducing the tactical flat-back four that season. It is a system that eschews man-marking for zonal defense. They handled the transition well, and our left back was a player who could just burn down the field and put in a good cross. Loved that kid! One of our center backs was a bit slow of foot, but smart and aggressive.

The Goal

The match was fast — both teams constantly attacked. The pace made you forget the key thing: that we were holding our own. Neither team had great opportunities to score. This match was played in the midfield, fighting for every ounce of possession. We ended the half at 0-0.

Here I must admit we had a 12th man, or maybe 13th. Yes, we had a great crowd, but on the other bench was a coach who believed in yelling at his players in an effort to shame them into a better performance. He told them they should be beating us 10-0, and, in fairness, they beat us 6-0 the previous season. He did everything he could to demoralize his team. Despite him, the players played hard and well.

The goal came as we cycled substitutions. My backup goalkeeper was playing as a forward, and one of the smallest kids on our team, a freshman left footer, was playing on the right side of midfield. We crossed a ball on the ground from the left and it somehow made it to the far post. Our aforementioned freshman (also the younger brother of a junior) was there to meet it and put it home. Right place, right time. In soccer that is everything, as it clearly was here. Other than my backup keeper, he was the least likely player on the field to score, and had he been right-footed, the shot would have been much more difficult. He did it with composure and accuracy.

I didn't see it.

It wasn't because I turned away; my eyes were on the action. They found my backup 'keeper playing as a forward. Had their goalkeeper managed to deflect that shot, my spare 'keeper was in an absolutely perfect position to bury the rebound. There would have been no one between him and the ball. He was also in the exact right place at the right time, and I was beyond thrilled.

Honestly, it was my proudest moment as a coach. It wasn't the goal. It was the idea that we educated this kid well enough in the game that he put himself in the perfect position at just the right time. It was the idea that he had the desire and initiative to be there. It was the idea that we were a team greater than the sum of our individual parts. That is my memory of our biggest goal of the season: watching my backup goalkeeper, as a forward, execute perfect off-the-ball movement.

The Aftermath

We won 1-0. As you might imagine, it wasn't pretty for the opposition, given their coach's preferred method of motivation. As for us, my co-head coach from West London and I turned to each other and had our ritual handshake, probably with much bigger smiles than usual. He was a marvel at training. I generally handled the tactical game management side of things.

We were a good team. The boys displayed as much and people took note. After this win, our small private school had a statewide ranking. We didn't have different classes then, and the soccer press, such as it was, considered us one of the top 20 teams. Wow. The boys earned it. We lost our last match of the regular season to a school that would win the state two years later. In the tournament, we lost a thrilling match to that same school where I previously coached.

That was my last match as a coach. I miss it.