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The Perfect Season Experiment An experiment in positivity that changed everything.

By Kate Leavell

Coach of College Club, High School Varsity and Youth lacrosse, youth association board

member, youth coach of basketball, and soccer.

US Lacrosse National Coaches Education Trainer, and NASM Certified Personal Trainer

and Senior Fitness Specialist, and a Lax mom.

Sign up for blog updates at www.kateleavell.com

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It’s preseason, 2012 and I’m watching a large portion of my spring team step onto the

field for a winter tournament. We’re only weeks out from tryouts starting, and with the

preseason ranking listing us as 4th

in the state, I can feel the pressure starting to build

already.

Unable to coach before the season starts due to high school regulations, I'm limited to

watching from the sidelines along with the parents. The first whistle blows and already I

can see most of the girls are out of position, their sticks haven’t been restrung since last

season, and they are running like their feet are stuck in a pit of honey. Dropped pass,

missed cut, ran passed the ground ball… The mistakes are piling up and all I can see are

problems as the stress starts to mount.

I’m not a yeller. I wasn’t raised by screamers and I’ve never felt comfortable in that role.

Even when we were down at half time and the girls were half asleep, I told them I was

going to try to yell and get them to wake up and I still couldn’t do it -- it’s just not my

thing. I am however, a coach with extraordinarily high expectations. I ask for what many

would consider to be the impossible. An Athletic Director told me once that I walk a fine

line between cocky and confident, safely hugging between the two and that’s probably a

pretty accurate statement. I push my players and I don’t accept anything less than a

billion percent effort and performance. I want them to want it more than I do (which is

hard to do!)

It took me a few years to realize that I’m not coaching robots. I'm coaching high school

girls and my efforts to eradicate their up and down emotional roller coasters and incessant

pushing the limits of rules, modesty, commitments and even language drove myself and

my players to the brink of insanity. I needed order and my obsession with order and

perfection was draining everyone. Yes, we were winning in the game, in the stats, in the

papers, but the joy was slowly being sucked out of the game for all of us.

Mistakes are welcome, and always have been on my field -- they are learning

opportunities that make us better! Yet, even with my desire to allow mistakes, I still

focused on them, called attention to them, and the season took on a negative toll, despite

my constant praise and fun activities. All that the girls heard were the mistakes as I

pointed them out, and in an effort to bring the team to perfection, we slowly fell into a

trap of feeling let down even after a win. We had a bench sprinkled with players whose

heads hung low and no amount of encouragement could get them over whatever silent

poison was creeping through the team. The culture I based on sportsmanship, honor and

successful learning was deteriorating and I didn’t know why. I was following all the

positive coaching rules wasn’t I? I don’t yell, I don’t say mean things and I give them

feedback on how to improve...what is going wrong? We played games at every practice,

we laughed, had treats, made up goofy names for plays. We had team dinners, and hunted

for Easter eggs with our lacrosse sticks, and ran to the lake to play lacrosse on the beach..

but something was just, well, missing.

I’ve seen mean coaches, how they act on and off the field and I knew that I wasn’t one of

those. I was at a loss for what to do, but was not willing to compromise my expectations

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because I, like all coaches, wanted to win and in fact, was winning and wanted to

continue.

After moving across the country due to a job change for my husband, I started coaching

at a new school. I knew that if I didn’t want to fall into the same trap as with my last

team, I needed to figure out what I was doing wrong (again looking for mistakes, my

obsession still continuing). Just as the season was beginning, I was on a trip for a coach

education training clinic that I had been assigned to teach, and I happened to run into Jon

Gordon in the airport, who wrote The Energy Bus. As someone who has always been

drawn to team building, inspiration, motivation and positive thinking, I was super happy

that this kind, lacrosse-playing author sent me a few of his books to read. I had already

started formulating a plan to approach my new team in a different way, but after reading

The Energy Bus and Training Camp I was inspired to start a little experiment,

unbeknownst to the players (and even to the other coaches), and I called it – The Perfect

Season. Seeking answers on how to be a better coach, I set out on a journey that in the

end, changed the way I think about, well, everything.

In this season, I vowed to not see mistakes, to not allow my players to see mistakes, and

to hopefully lead the coaches on the same journey with me through my own modeled

behavior. My theory was this: if we don’t SEE or HEAR mistakes, then there aren’t any

(kind of like the tree falling in the forest that makes no noise because no one is around to

hear it!).

What is a mistake really? It’s what we are doing wrong! AND how do we fix a mistake?

By looking at the mistake, or by looking at the solution? So in essence, the most efficient

way to correct mistakes is to focus on improving or adding skill sets, not looking at what

is missing. And yet my specialty, and that of so many other coaches, is to analyze and

seek out the mistakes and to look to solutions as an afterthought. What if our focus

became so intense on what we are doing right and where we can expand, that the

mistakes just disappeared. I wanted to know if this was possible, if it would change my

team culture, and I wanted it enough to risk the season on it.

For a coach who is a perfectionist, this is a tough experiment to carry out. I mean, how on

earth are we going to become the powerhouse I am driven to bring together if we can’t

focus on mistakes? I have expectations from parents and coaches around me to make

miracles happen. After all, I am in an area new to lacrosse, and I have experience in this

sport, a track record of success and I'm from Maryland. That’s enough to raise the

expectations right there even if I didn’t know a thing! If I don’t focus on mistakes, can we

improve?! If we don’t improve, I could fail, and failure is definitely a no go for me.

More stress..more stress…

But, the experiment began anyway, and I had to find a way to get the job done without

any mistakes called out on or off the field. Our first game was no ordinary start to the

season. It was, in fact, a 3 game tournament against teams in a higher class than us. It

was freezing, even for this coach who just left Minnesota, and our starting goalie was

still in basketball season so we had a freshman, brand new to playing goalie, starting in

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the cage along with several other 9th

graders on the starting Varsity line up. There was

plenty of room for mistakes this weekend, plenty of room for stress, but I vowed to

myself I would hold true to my promise, even if I had to shut my eyes to not see the

mistakes. The adrenaline was pumping as the whistle indicated the start of the game and I

plastered that smile on my face, knowing this would be my first test.

Every time out, each half time talk and pregame talk was completely focused on what we

did right, what we can do in the future games and on what positive encouragements the

players heard on the field. No mistakes were mentioned -- not once. I talked less,

listened more, gave more high fives than I want to admit for fear of elevating my “nerd”

status, and saw faces looking back at me eager to hear every word I had to say.

I wasn’t sure if it was just the new team, the southern air, or what, but my stress level

was the lowest it has ever been in a game. Dare I say, it was even, fun? High School

coaching fun? Hmmmm….

Even when we were down a few goals, the girls were radiating with energy and hope.

They saw solutions, opportunities to improve and they did. That opening weekend we

beat a team we were fully expected to fall to, and then, we beat another team who had

been beating everyone else. Two games down and I could hear parents from teams that

would face us later in the season making remarks about how this year this team looked

like a whole different school. I felt calm and focused as the lists in my head of what was

happening in the game began a shift from scouting for mistakes, to finding solutions. The

adjustments we could make started to get much easier to see.

The third game we played was against a travel team that was by far a better-skilled team

than we were, with older and more experienced athletes. They play year round, and had

traveled from Tennessee to play in the tournament, and I found myself tracing through

some mistakes in my head from the previous games.

I shook my head and refocused myself, remembering my promise as the last game of the

weekend started. In the first 3 minutes we were down 4 to 0. My anxiety started to rise

but I quickly returned my focus onto solutions. I studied the field looking for opportunity

instead of mistakes. I asked the girls where they saw opportunities, and I looked for the

mistakes in the other team instead of ours. We rallied, threw a few goals back at them

and slowed down their fierce momentum. After a hard fight, even though we lost, we

managed to pop 7 goals into the net on that game, more than anyone else had scored on

this team. We had come together; something that my previous team had struggled with

for years because under pressure, the team’s culture will either create a deep sense of

team unity or a gaping hole filled with defeat and negativity.

At the end of each game we started a new tradition called Celebrations. We gathered in a

circle immediately after the handshakes and players took turns giving each other shout-

outs, celebrations of everything that we saw in that game. Things like, this person had a

ton of ground balls, this person really hustled, this person fell down, rolled around and

still didn’t drop the ball. Or this person fell down and dropped that ball but it was really

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funny to watch and they had a great attitude about it, and the goalie never got down on

herself..etc. There was no talk of what we did wrong, because, in fact, there were no

mistakes -- only opportunities to learn.

Immediately after that loss we got into our circle, the third and last circle of the weekend,

and said our celebrations. Despite a 7-17 score, every player left that game with a smile

on her face and excitement for the learning opportunities at the next practice.

My husband, who was in the stands at the end of each game, told me something at the

end of that weekend of tournaments that really struck me. He began to describe to me

what he found to be a really interesting juxtaposition of coaching styles going on during

the post-game and half times with each team. One was our team, smiling and gathered

together, celebrating each other, shouting out things we loved about our teammates’

performances, and looking for opportunities to meet the next challenge. The other team,

with their heads down, seated with the coach standing over them and sternly scolding or

even yelling about the mistakes they made.

I hadn’t thought about the difference that could be seen from the parents and spectators

point of view, and it energized me further to keep this experiment going so that I can see

how we can not only have players benefit, but maybe even benefit the culture of this

sport as a whole by touching the spectators, parents and umpires. I felt confident leaving

that field that our team was going to play better in the long run and I held onto my

promise to myself that this season would remain, in fact, perfect and without mistakes as

long as I could manage it.

THE REGULAR SEASON BEGINS

Fast-forward a few weeks to our first official, non-tournament game of the season. We

woke up to a dreary, quite cold day that was forecasting gusts of up to 40 MPH winds,

temps in the 30’s and some pregame rain that softened up the grass field. Did I mention

this team never plays on grass? Mud only complicates things at this point.

As I arrived at the field, I assessed our team-- they seemed to have their mind on other

things, everyone was a bit scattered and distracted and the entire warm up felt off.

Feeling confident that we would pull it together and do what we needed to do, I ignored

signs of a team not ready to play and watched the game start.

Several goals hit the back of our net within the first minutes of the game, unanswered and

uncontested. After our rally at the tournament, I was feeling calmer than usual about the

score but as time went on, the game of catch-up was starting to make everyone jittery. It

wasn’t until half time that we fully hit our grove and got the ball in our possession and

found the net. They struggled with numb hands and, finally, what became driven spirits.

We managed to get ourselves an opportunity to pull out a win not once, or twice, but in 3

overtime periods. It ended in a sudden death shot, score and disappointing loss for us.

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There’s something about sudden death, or sudden victory as it’s called now, that can bring

instant, overwhelming joy and relief, or an instant crushing blow of disappointment, and

there is never a buffer for it. I have always dreaded any overtime games-- they always

end with too much adrenaline and a sleepless night either way it goes.

Immediately after that game we had a team talk. I remembered my promise, but was

struggling to not point out obvious mistakes. I reminded myself that these girls know the

mistakes, they learned them first-hand on that field, and that what they actually needed

from me was direction, hope and a little push to execute the skills they had worked so

hard on. So the post-game talk was all about our intensity level, and where we want to

focus that intensity. Can we give more at practice? Can we give more during the warm

up? Are we really leaving it all out there? Are we using the knowledge that’s being

presented at each practice to better ourselves and can we leave each practice and each

game and say, “Today I became a better lacrosse player, a better teammate, and more

prepared than I was yesterday?” True to the amazing character that my players have, they

all thanked me as they left from that post-game talk They wanted to learn and they craved

direction. These are not ordinary high school players showing up to play a new sport--

these are fierce athletes. They may not always execute what they have learned but they

aren’t lazy, or not paying attention-- they’re just learning and gaining experience and

beginning to grow into what I know will be a force to be reckoned with by the time

playoffs come around.

But then, I forgot to do our celebration circle. I forgot. I FORGOT. I was crushed at the

realization.

When I got home, even though I felt really good about the post-game talk, I also realized

that I had fallen into an old trap-- the one that places emphasis on winning-- and forgot

that these players are humans, girls with emotions and emotional tanks. Girls that are self

-conscious and doubt themselves. Girls that internalize everything and that struggle with

self- esteem. They indeed did many things right that game, including coming back from

what could have been a devastating score deficit. Those celebrations are all about lifting

our players up, and no matter what the game or how many missteps we take, there is

always something to celebrate...in games, in our jobs, our relationships, and in the bigger

picture of life. So at the next practice, despite having a very limited time on the turf due

to a shortened schedule, and the look of, “are you crazy?” from my other coach, I still

insisted that we start practice with our celebration circle that we had missed after the

game.

We will lose more games at some point this season, and I hoped that I would not forget

again to let those players leave with hopes, dreams, and a belief that they are of value

even when they lose. We are a team, regardless of the outcome of our games. We must

learn to live life positively in any situation, because there is always something to

celebrate and a reason tokeep going forward. As soon as we stop looking forward, we

find ourselves entwined with the past, trapped and struggling to move on. Ask any goalie

what that’s like! Like vines on a tree, the past can grow thicker and more dense around

us, screening out our vision of the world of opportunity all around.

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Our next two were home games that gave us celebrations that came easily and with lots

of smiles. The weather was beautiful, the refs were fantastic both nights, keeping

everything in order and safe, and both sides of coaches were happy with them (wow that

never happens!). The first game was a shut-out requiring about 10 minutes of stalling just

to keep from being unsportsmanlike with the score, and the second game ended up

wrapping up quite the same as the first. Everyone got lots of playing time, many people

scored goals, had assists, had defensive turnovers and got to show their stuff out there on

the turf those nights. This is when my experiment is easy to keep up with-- when

everything is bright, sun-shiney and going great!

The next week was going to be a bit trickier, playing a team that dominates and is ranked

much higher than us. A team that not only normally beats us, but that beats us by deficits

greater than 10, sometimes, even close to 20 goals. This was going to be another test on

the Perfect Season Experiment.

The Test

Three days left to prepare for Saturday’s game and the talk at practice the next day was

all about defining moments and how on any given day, any team can win or lose. We

talked about basketball brackets, and how so many of them fall apart due to major upsets,

and how much we want to be that major upset this weekend. In the back of my mind I

wondered if there might be a danger in getting their hopes up. Would I lose their trust if

we get clobbered? In the past I have focused on reality and more down-to-earth goals

against hard teams, but this experiment is based on faith and the pursuit of something

great. I’m not sure if I’m on the right track here, but feeling in my gut that gunning for a

dream is better than walking in, content with the possibility of a loss, I continued to feed

into that hope that Saturday could in fact be our day! I felt confident that we could at

least put up a good fight, if not actually pull off the Win, but these are humans and not

robots, and… any team, any given day…

Game Day

It's every coaches dream that when they put their faith into their players, that the players

live up to it and deliver when it counts. Going into a game as an underdog, the day after

Mercer took the 3 seeded Duke out of the playoffs as a 14 seed, we were inspired to reach

outside of our comfort zone and go for a pretty lofty goal. Normally on this type of game

we would set a goal of holding the other team to a certain amount of goals and keeping

the game close. But not this team. Not this year. We wanted it all, and we wanted the

win.

During the warm up, the girls faces were tight, serious, and this troubled me a great deal.

I've seen nerves before and this was definitely a case of serious pre-game jitters. Before

the last section of the warm up, I called the girls in, asked them if they were anxious, and

they confirmed that they were. I asked them to take the adrenaline and channel it into

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energy, and to remember why we are here. If you don't love this sport, what are we doing

here? Players that have forgotten the fun of the chase, the thrill of little celebrations

throughout the game, cannot play at their full potential. If it's not fun to beat this team

then why bother? There is no big money prize or huge trophy at the end of this game.

When the score board says we win I will be a happy coach. But I'm not really focused on

that board. If the journey isn't fun, then we're wasting our time here. I sent them to get

some water and to come back and finish their 7v7, but to come back smiling because they

want to be here, and to focus on making this fun, but with an emphasis on practicing what

we know and the confidence that we have prepared to the best of our ability.

And they did. Just shortly before halftime, we had scored to put us in the lead by one

goal. 30 seconds remained on the clock and I was pretty sure the other team was going to

get a shot off if they won the draw. There's something about a counting down clock that

rattles a defense and inspires a fast break like nothing else. And score they did just as the

clock ran out, leaving us back to a tie at the break.

With a tie score at half time, we needed a couple of adjustments to pull out a win. Our

half time talk was a bit unusual. We had some adjustments to make but mostly, we just

needed to keep our heads in the game, looking forward and not looking at mistakes. I

knew the other team was likely getting a handful of mistakes pointed out, reasons they

weren't able to pull away, reasons they were failing. What did I have that the other team

didn't have? I had hope, and I knew I could hand it out freely right there on the turf to

each one of my players. Defeat comes naturally. My role is to bring out their best, not

judge them for their worst. That half time was full of smiles, and celebrations with only a

few changes for the second half in our attack set up. That's all they needed.

During our talk, we focused on what our improvements will be, and I asked them to tell

me what they thought they could do to prevent another fast break during a time that could

mean a loss at the end of the game. They knew the answer, they knew how to fix it, and

they didn't need me throwing that mistake at them. They just needed confidence that they

do in fact know how to handle that situation. We lost one defender who had to leave early

for a concert, and then we lost another with a knee injury. And as though we were really

being tested, we lost our third starting defender from a double yellow card for an odd

crease violation call. We were down to one starting defender for four defending positions

going into the second half, but we didn't focus on this at all until the game was over. Our

focus was on the second half, what we plan to do, and celebrations of what we were

already mastering so that we could continue.

Second half started and we scored in 30 seconds. And then again, and again, until four

unanswered goals hit the back of the net. In that 25 minutes, the other team only

managed to scrape in two more goals to our six. I saw teamwork and hustle on that field

that I don't see very often at the high school level. Under a huge amount of pressure, total

exhaustion and being pushed to their limits, I never saw these girls back down, get

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negative, hang their head or utter one negative statement on that field. To say that I was

proud just doesn't do the emotion justice.

Yes, I have been telling them to be positive, focus on what we can do and expand the

areas that we have room for improvement. I told them to believe that we can do it, that

heart mixed with preparation and action can make you do things that seem out of reach. I

told them there are no limits, only those we set for ourselves, and that we can be so much

more than we know. Well I told them... but I didn't really expect them to listen! And most

of me believed it, but a little part of me that still doubted that this experiment could give

me a happy team AND wins was in complete and utter awe. I want wins, oh boy do I

want wins. But after that toxic season in my past, I wanted happy players even more.

Though I'd never tell the other coach this, I was willing to sacrifice wins if necessary to

have these girls leave the season saying it was the best memories they have from high

school, and that they learned a little something about how to conquer life's challenges and

ups and downs by being on this team. I wasn't willing to compromise a positive

atmosphere for the sake of games, points or titles. Never again.

It's mid season and I'm realizing that we just might get both. We just might do something

rather incredible here. Maybe this experiment is more than an experiment-- maybe it's life

changing, maybe its inspiring teenage girls to have faith, confidence and go for dreams,

and maybe, just maybe, it's doing something pretty amazing to me as well. I can feel

something going on that I can't explain just yet, but it feels like perspective and a little

like joy..and it's not just happening during lacrosse--its touching a whole lot more

14 wins-2 losses lessons learned

With limited time and access to the JV team, the experiment began to pull the Varsity

team in a starkly different direction than our training team. As the Varsity players became

closer, more unified and more determined, the JV team began to rip apart at the seams

with inner conflict, lack of attendance, lack of energy or drive and pockets of developing

drama.

The importance of beginning the season with the expectations of positivity and focusing

only on opportunities became so very clear as putting out fires that were growing

exponentially started taking its toll on the JV coaches. Our Varsity captains began to

mentor the younger girls in an attempt to redirect them, and though it helped, it just

wasn’t enough to chase out the negativity that had filled the void there. I took mental

notes to remember that we cannot lapse in our dedication to driving the team from the

beginning in the right direction and that the entire program needs to be on board.

Even though as I introduced myself for the first time at tryouts for Varsity I gave them the

expectations that this would be a positive, safe place they looked forward to coming too,

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they didn’t quite believe me. But I had opened the door that possibly, just maybe, I meant

it. As the season wore on, they realized that I had meant it, and that this would be a time

they would look back on one day with great happy memories. A place where challenges

are met with solutions instead of despair, where nothing was quite as important as the

girls on the team. They have to come first and then, and only then, does everything else

fall into place.

Game after game, the team rallied, each one holding a special value because it was

something these girls had never done. Our pregame speech became a mantra -- do

something we’ve never done, show the world what 20 girls on a mission, fully focused

and devoted, can really do when you put us together on a field. The usual panic that

happens when a team is down at the beginning of a game just wasn’t there because as the

other teams would start yelling and screaming at each other, this team was busy coming

up with solutions. The coaches had adjustments but as the close of the season

approached, these empowered girls rarely needed them. They had already figured out

how to adjust on their own on the field, meet together after goals and turn the games

around.

Second half teams are so often the sign of a healthy team culture. I’ve had both kinds,

and the biggest difference between them was the team unity and how it either rots or

flourishes under pressure. With our strong base, our second halves were the most fun and

beautifully played part of almost all our games, no matter how flat or slow we may have

come out at the start.

At the close of the regular season, we had not lost a game since the one where we forgot

to do our celebration circle. It never occurred to me that would be our last loss of the

season, how amazing had this year been! With a 12-game winning streak, we were about

to roll into the playoffs. Four games to win state, where just one loss means this

incredible experiment and season would be over and we'd have to say goodbye to our

seniors. It was also nearing the time where my experiment would be revealed and the

viewpoint of the players would be heard. I was anxiously awaiting the opportunity to

know how they have felt about this year, but not at all in a hurry to end this experience

where for the first time, coaching was painless and inspiring from start to finish. I can’t

imagine ever going back to the old days where the stress of perfection, getting every

player at every practice, mulling over mistakes and players' flaws kept me awake at night

and drained all of the happiness of this game away.

Winning four games would mean winning the state tournament, and even I who have had

enormous faith in this team, was not quite expecting to get that far. But what if, what if

we could win the state tournament on faith and with team unity? Some of the teams we

would have to face are much faster than us, have players with more experience and we

haven’t faced anyone that would give us that sort of challenge yet to gauge what we are

capable of. The very first game is against the very team that gave us our last loss. We

now must go back and look that loss in the eyes and see if we’ve grown over that last two

months.

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As we enter an uncertain future during playoffs, the hardest part of the experiment is

nearing and one I hadn’t really thought to prepare for. What do I say before a game that

could end the season at the last whistle? Only one team in the state ends their season with

a win. How do I guide this team to leave a possible loss still feeling like they succeeded?

How do I help them try their best to win and dream without setting them up for

disappointment? I have less than a week to figure this out. The close of this season is

going to be so very bittersweet for me These girls have changed everything about the way

I coach this sport, how I feel about my job, and I know that this is a year I will never ever

forget. At the end of the last game, that last loss, there are often tears of disappointment

in the players’ eyes. Even the toughest of them will break down from the let-down after

firing out everything they have on that field only to fall short. This year at the final

whistle, I really believe that any tears will be shed over the end of what we all want to go

on forever with each other on this team and not because of disappointment over a loss.

Maybe this is the focus, maybe this is what will carry us through – the desire to keep us

together for one more day before we have to say goodbye, and not the actual win.

The Playoffs

I'm sitting here at my desk filled with all kinds of crazy emotions, so many that I am still

unsure which one is the most prevalent. One more day-- that was our theme for the first

playoff game. We didn't focus on the scoreboard; we focused on extending what had

already been an amazing season. When the final horn blew at the end of the game, the

very team that had given us our only regular season loss, had just been defeated by our

amazing team with a score of 20 to 6. This was a rite of passage for us. It meant we had

grown over the last few months, that we were prepared and united to get this victory, and

we can only hope, the next one as well.

But now, I sit here just hours before playoff game number two, the game that would put

us into the final four, and I'm feeling more emotional than usual. It occurs to me that this

is the exact position I was in at the final game with my last team. We were poised to win

and get into the final four, but the team was not united and I was empty after a season of

being picked apart by parents and a new Athletic Director and a team that I had been

coaching since 5 years before as young girls. I went into that game feeling like I had

nothing to give and the players' faces reflected the same. What should have been an easy

win became a defeat and it was the last time that I stepped onto that field that had felt like

a second home to me. It was my last season as a head coach before moving, and it was

the last time I wanted to set foot onto another turf field, ever. It's the only time in my life

I wanted to quit and walk away in the middle of a game and just run as far as I could until

I collapsed. It was despair. I had nothing left.

I know that this team is different, and that our unity is beyond anything I have ever

experienced and that we are prepared. But that awful sinking reminder of this phase with

my last team is pulling at my emotions today. I have several times pulled out a picture of

my team to remind myself that this is a new day, a new team and a chance to finish what I

have started in a positive and encouraging atmosphere. I am not the same person, and my

leadership style is completely different.

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It was supposed to be gorgeous and sunny today, but all day the wind and the storm

clouds have been hanging and whipping around, which feels fitting for the war going on

inside my head. I know that once I step in front of this team, once I see their faces, their

joy and their love of this game, that all of the past will be washed away. Win or lose, I

know they will put everything they have out there, and that they can do no less. What will

our focus be tonight? One more day still fits, I suppose, for none of us want this to be

over just yet.

As the pre-game rituals began, the warm up, the line up calls, the pregame prayers said,

the leaves were flying through the sky all around us as dark storm clouds rolled in

pinching out the light of early evening. The storm sirens went off and the team ran to take

cover in the shed near the field. As though the pre-game jitters weren't high enough, this

delay heightened the anxiety swelling inside the coaches and inside the players. This is

worst-case scenario for our team. We are mainly a passing team, and when it rains, that

edge that we have to move the ball is taken away. I knew the first 10 minutes would be

bad, maybe even very bad, but I sat in that shed praying for the rain to pass over us

quickly. As we waited, the girls circled up and played games, and my goal was to keep

them distracted and having fun and to keep myself sane...if possible!

Only five or so minutes passed while we sat in that shed when the all clear bell rang and

we took that field, in pouring, soaking rain, winds and dark skies. We couldn't seem to

stay on our feet, or connect our passes and the other team was all over us. At halftime the

score sat at 3 to 7, and we headed back to the shed to prepare for the second half.

The strangest calm sat over me during the first half. Even as goal after goal made it into

our net in the first half, something in my gut just said to be calm. That this team never

fails to come together and face a challenge. So the halftime talk was about challenges and

about fear. We were playing with caution, with fear of dropping the ball, missing a shot,

fear of mistakes. The second half was to be about going for it, leaving those fears aside

and putting ourselves out there. Then we talked about challenges...the first challenge was

getting through a team that beat us in the regular season, and now this challenge was to

rise when our ability to move the ball was struggling with soaking wet pockets in our

sticks and slippery cleats. This was the time to put aside the first half, and prove that we

deserve to be here, to get one more day together and show what we are capable of. We

will never know if we are capable of winning the State Championship game if we don't

get there, and we want to know if we've got the stuff to get it done.

Team culture is the recipe for disaster or success under pressure. For the first time in a

long time, team culture was our saving grace -- it was the catalyst in our turn- around that

made even the lingering soccer fans in the stadium who know nothing of lacrosse, stand

up and start screaming in excitement for us.

That second half we came back from a 4 point deficit to take the lead in a matter of

minutes after the first whistle, and we never looked back. The final score was 13-10 after

we outscored them 10-3 in those closing 25 minutes. As the girls stormed the field with

that win, I was filled with an overwhelming sense of being a part of something so much

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bigger than just a lacrosse game. What we just did was not a normal response to being

that defeated at half time. It was a rally of the heart and soul of teammates who don't

know the meaning of giving up, who don't know mistakes, who see opportunity even

when the odds are miserably out of balance in the other teams favor. I've seen these teams

in movies, read about them in books, but I've never experienced it first hand. Those

movies and books don't hold a candle to expressing the energy that comes from this sort

of determination, unity and devotion.

Final four. I don't know what the future holds for us, but I know that whatever it is,

failure isn't even listed as one of the options. This team will win, if not on the scoreboard

then in life, in love of this game, in joy from this season, in memories, in friendships,

connections, and confidence. They may realize it now, or many years from now, that

though they've not yet played the biggest game of the season, they have already won the

greatest prize.

The last whistle means one thing -- time to get Ice Cream!

The promise was for a team trip out for ice cream immediately following the state playoff

game, no matter what the outcome. So in a game of uncertainty, one thing was a

guarantee -- Yumminess was coming for all of us!

Most wins in a season, farthest into the state playoffs than ever before, even breaking into

the state Final Four , beating every rival this school ever had, beating every team that had

previously dominated us by more than 10 goals consistently for years, longest

consecutive winning streak with only one in-season loss that happened in Over Time,

most assisted goals ever in the history of the team, most goals ever, less than half of the

average allowed goals ever scored against this team.....on paper this team was a miracle.

Though we hung tough for the entire first half of the state game against the 5-time state

championship team, we fell in the second half, unable to keep up the back and forth

battle. At the end of the game, I looked at these players and they were still celebrating

their amazing season. The last celebration circle was bittersweet as we looked at our 7

seniors that no longer would be on this ride with is. The Athletic Director came down and

joined the circle, giving shout outs to our players, the coaching staff, the managers and

ultimately this amazing lacrosse program. The pride on his face that brought so much

emotion to our players and to our staff reminded me just how much bigger sports are than

wins and losses. Records and streaks get attention but teams that pull together change

lives and that is why I love my job. The Athletic Director and Principal of a school

coming to games might be normal in other sports, but in a school where many of the

students had not even realized there was a girls lacrosse program, it wasn't typical. To

have the Athletic Director jumping up and down in the press box with excitement is a

clear sign that the positive energy that was flowing from the lax players was reaching out

to the rest of the school, even in a sport that they still don't really understand.

I had several offers to leave this school at the end of the season to grow programs at other

schools. I know I could run this experiment again at any number of new programs that

are struggling, and one day that may be what I decide to do. But for now, I had to stay

with a team that reminded me what this sport did for me as a youth player. In a

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whirlwind of adolescent confusion, uncertainty and the pull between child and adult,

there was one constant that never failed me and that was a brick wall, a ball , my lacrosse

stick, and of course, my teammates.

I decided to write about my experiment in the hopes that some other coaches out there

who might be struggling to build a culture that thrives, might learn vicariously from the

ride I just took with my team. I've been thanked for coaching before -- it's pretty standard

at the end of the season, and it's usually for my time and the teaching the players

received. But after this season, the letters I received from my players, even from parents,

about how this season changed aspects of every part of their lives, brought me to tears

(which isn't really easy to do). I've had record- breaking seasons before. I've had winning

streaks and nail biter games, but that's not what this season was about. I'm far (farrrrr!)

from a perfect coach. I mess up daily (hourly......hmm ....minutely?) and I'm still learning

every day. But when we focus on what we do right, we move forward with hope and

anticipation of what is next. And when we focus on what others do right, we empower

and build and grow a community. I can honestly say, I won't ever forget the first Perfect

Season we ever had.

Implementing the Perfect Season

A positive, focused team can be any

age and any size, as long as all the

elements of the team are focused on

growth, choices, and opportunity. The

high school version of a team has

many variables that can interfere with

the positivity of the group. Things

such as academic requirements and

expectations, associations inside and

outside of school, family

responsibilities and trips, college

visits, social activities, fitness,

dedication and effort in and out of

practice/games, attitude, and social

disruptions (a.k.a. Drama).

Without a structure in place for each variable, the door for confusion, hurt feelings, let-

downs and negativity will always be open. Once that door is open, it’s difficult to close

and tends to invite others inside, like a bad party.

Every leader must determine their own unique expectations, but to help as a guide, I am

listing the general rules I used with this team for the experiment.

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Practices and Attendance: The old me was very strict on practice attendance, rightfully so, as there was a huge

amount of learning stuffed into each practice and an absence left giant holes at the next

game.

The post-experiment me realized that, in theory, as important as it is to get everyone to

every practice, high school girls cannot clone themselves any more than I can clone

myself, much as I’d like to. They have the same high expectations being put on them

from their families, teachers, churches and other activities. Yes I need commitment, but

rather than waste energy (and it was a huge energy drain constantly trying to discipline

players for missing practice) I learned to say the following when someone said they

couldn’t make it to practice: “Ok, thank you for letting me know. Please meet with a

captain to learn what you missed before the next practice.” Done. No more debating if

their reason was as important to me as it was to them for missing, no more stressing about

getting behind, and instead, a freeing acceptance of the fact that my job is to make the

best team I can with what I have available to me. End of story. I strongly believe that this

freedom for the players led to better attendance and not less, because they felt trusted and

respected to make the right choice and they wanted to be at practice. It meant they only

missed when they absolutely couldn’t help it. In contrast, the JV team which had a more

strict policy and less freedom to choose, experienced much more absences overall than

the Varsity team and even had players choose concerts over games. Even more important

is the message that the players got that is not too common these days… “YOU are more

important than this practice.” So often the message is the opposite, that the player and the

player’s life and concerns are secondary to the coach's plans for that day, and that

attendance means more than the person. How can a player thrive if they feel like a puzzle

piece that is not valued for the person that comes with the skills? How do I judge one

player's reason for missing against another’s? This made practice much less stressful on

all of us.

Not my team:

It’s easy, as the coach, to get caught up feeling like the team is a reflection of ourselves.

In many ways, it is, since we set the culture of that team, the expectations, the schedule,

pick our players, etc. It can be hard to face the truth that despite all of those activities, this

team does not belong to us. This team belongs to the players, and no matter how much a

coach wants to win, improve, etc, without the willingness or presence of those players,

there is no team.

My motto for my team is this: My team leads me to know the best way to lead them.

At the beginning of the season the players should be picking both their team goals and

individual goals. Those goals should be recorded and given to the coaches, and even

better, to the parents, athletic director and teachers as well. The more support they have,

the more successful they will become. It’s our job as coaches to lead them by providing

the skills and guidance they need, and occasionally redirect them when they lose sight of

where they are headed and to make sure the team is going in the same direction. It’s an

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old but true saying that every step you take is either taking you closer to or farther away

from your goal, and it’s our job as coaches to help guide their steps through the season, to

guide the team in the direction they wish to go.

At tryouts I ask my players to tell me what they want to get out of this season, where they

want to improve, what kinds of drills and conditioning do they love/hate, etc. There are a

million ways to get things done. It’s my job to keep learning, to figure out how to get the

teaching done in a way that this particular team needs in order to do their best. And

because every year each team is drastically different, I have to change my plans and

direction based on what’s best for this group of players.

So my second motto that goes along with Not My Team is this: I must change my

teaching styles and drills to conform to my team’s needs every season instead of

trying to stay the same and making each new team conform to me.

Corrections and Directions: “We just aren’t getting the ground balls.”

“There’s no hustle out there, they are out- hustling us.”

“You’re not talking, there’s no communication.”

“You all look asleep.”

Every game I’ve ever played, and every game I’ve watched my kids play, those

statements are almost guaranteed to be heard coming from the coaches to the kids. Go to

a tournament and during an off game, stand near a team and write down every negatively

stated correction you hear. You could probably fill a notebook. When we get told we

can’t do something or that we aren’t doing it, we don’t immediately change and become

experts at it-- that’s probably not ground breaking news for anyone. Yet, it’s a common

way of correction in sports. So common that many kids don’t know there is another way

to learn. What happened to motivation, competition, excitement, hope….like this:

“I'm keeping track of the ground balls, and our goal is to out-scoop the other team in the

first 2 minutes of the second half, and everyone on the bench is going to do the wave as

soon as it happens! Here’s how we can meet this challenge: choke up higher on your stick

and box out -- remember those from Friday's practice? Awesome!! Who thinks we can do

it?!”

“Phew, that team is fast! Every time we beat them to a ball I'm giving you guys an effort

point (redeemable at the end of the game for goodies in the goody bag). Let's see if we

can empty that goody bag today!”

“Its pretty quiet out there today-- what kinds of things do you think you could say on the

field that would help each other on defense? Do you think if we were super loud when we

talk that even the parents in the top of the stands would be able to hear you? Experiment

time...let’s ask that parent up there in the top row after the game if they heard you!”

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Think those are cheesy? They are, but they are also fun and they remind the players of

something they love to do…play! Be a kid again-- remember that fun and motivation

brings about effort and negativity and disappointment bring about fear of performance.

Celebrate Everything: Good, bad, silly, sad, everything has a cause for celebration! Celebrating as a group

brings validation to teammates that each member is valued and important and better yet,

no one goes home wondering if the team is disappointed in them for being less than

perfect. It’s an opportunity to thank teammates for backing each other up, for the coach

to call out effort and improvements, praise recovery from imperfections, and for players

to appreciate each teammate (even the ones that cheered from the sideline). At the close

of each game, gather and focus on celebrations. Corrections can be made at practice.

After the game, let the players go home and just love the game and revel in the victories

(even when they lose, there are victories!). Teaching the team that it’s truly about the

TEAM and that pride and unity come with all actions the team takes together, wins or

loses.

What about outside of games, when players or maybe coaches make a bad decision?

These celebrations are just as important as game celebrations. If the player or coach

chooses to correct or make right the wrong, the team should feel open and proud to

celebrate recovering a player back into the direction and goals of that team.

Have an Open Door Policy: Approachable coaches make teams feel secure. If after practice the goalie is feeling

resentful that there was an hour of crease roll practice and she got bruised from head to

toe but she doesn’t feel free to approach the coach and discuss it, a negative environment

can quickly take over. One resentful player that feels unsafe confides in another player

who may feel unsafe to discuss her concerns with the coach and slowly that can grow into

a distrustful atmosphere where the coach is no longer effective and unity quickly breaks

down. If a player doesn’t understand why they didn’t play much last game and can’t

approach the coach, then the unfortunate tangle of assumption begins.

Whether it be office hours, after practice, cell phone, email or whatever you choose, have

an open door policy and be open to discussing everything. That doesn’t mean you have

to agree or comply, but the players have the right to understand your point of view and

without feedback, you’ll never know if their needs are really being met. I have had

players tell me that they were completely happy and everything was great when I checked

in with them. However, it turns out they were upset about some things and didn’t feel

able to freely discuss them with me and so there was a huge disconnect. During this

experiment, I repeatedly told the players that my door was open, that I wanted to know

what they were thinking and that I am fully aware that I am not perfect and that their

opinion was valuable to me and to the team. I can’t count the number of times a player

just out of nowhere thanked me for the reassurance that they could be heard.

Get Help

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There were days when I was on my way to practice and I was in a terrible mood, or when

an important game was just falling apart and I wanted to fall back into the dominant

coach role that would allow me to take over and let off steam. Even one of those days

can ruin weeks of reaching for a positive atmosphere. Some days a player is going to

come straight to practice after a bad conversation with a friend, significant other, parent,

etc and be a mess. Instead of letting it bring down the atmosphere at practice, we opened

a new avenue to deal with the negativity and that is to just say it out loud.

If you come to practice and you’re having an awful day, tell your team: “Wow guys, I had

a super rough day!” Get support from each other and then tackle the skills that are ahead.

It's really quite amazing how getting that out right off the bat can allow you or a player to

toss it aside and focus on practice with a fresh mindset. During that game it’s ok to look

over at your other coach or maybe that captain or hey, even at half time to the team and

say, phew guys, I'm frustrated that it seems we aren’t executing skills...anyone else

feeling that? How can we turn this around? Let's talk about what would make us better

players right now. Is it defense talking to you more, or faster slides to doubles?

The pre-experiment me would stuff the negativity and then at some point it would come

out as a slightly harsher -than- normal comment. I have found that it’s so much easier to

just own it, say the feeling out loud, let your team carry you through it and have your

back the same way you have theirs.

Nerves lose Games Sure nerves give you adrenaline, and a certain amount of nerves can be a great boost. But

on the far extremes, nerves can be the kiss of death for a game. Too little nerves and

everyone looks like they are napping; too much and every ball is bobbled to the ground.

It’s a big game, the nerves are high and the team isn’t playing like themselves. There’s

one version to deal with that-- yelling, teammates getting on each other, and

reprimanding dumb mistakes.

But, there’s another way--refocus and become a kid again. Remember when you played

pick-up kick ball at recess when you were a kid? The only stressful part of that is team

picking and hoping you’re not last. But after that, it’s just how long you can play until

the bell rings to go back inside. Teams that “play” with the same joy that kids play at

recess, will perform better in my experience. If they are focused on keep away, trying

new tricks, pairing up to distract the other team, smiling and laughing, they play better.

The pre-experiment me used to be into intimidation of the other team involving silent

warm ups with serious faces, no goofing off, the stare down on the walk down the field.

Yes, it was very intimidating. Too much, probably, because I think my team was psyching

themselves out in the process. Now my focus is on play, having fun, and being focused

while keeping it light. Go keep the ball away like you’re hiding the last cookie from your

little brother!

Ultimately, the most applicable lesson I learned from this experiment is that when the

coach stops having fun, the players probably stopped having fun way before we did, and

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that positive teams perform better, come back more often to teach, and reach more of

their potential. That’s a win-win in my book, even on the rare occasion that it’s a loss in

the scorebook.