I never expected this wholesome activity to declutter my brain and help me focus
When it comes to coaching my kid's team, I don't know what I'm doing, but I love how it makes me feel
I’m not a sporty gal. My favorite competition is Wordle. And maybe napping. But otherwise, I just don’t get it. When I’m forced to watch team sports, I can’t help but think—a la The Naked Ape—“this is just sanctioned tribal warfare. BOR-ING!”
I played soccer in high school, badly. I joined to get out of regular PE and to earn a letterman jacket—the latter being an achievement I coveted for unclear reasons, probably to feel (but not actually be) popular. I wore the jacket once for team photos, and at some point it dawned on me how ugly, unflattering and useless it was in the Gulf Coast sub-tropics.
In college, the closest I got to playing team sports was competitive drinking.
Point being, I have no business coaching a group of adorable, eager-eyed potential volleyball stars who are still learning how to tie their shoes. Yet that’s exactly what I’m doing for our local Y, which is always in need of parent coaches for their numerous youth teams.
Last season, I volunteered when no other parents on our team did.
Fine, I thought when we showed up to the first practice, I’ll do it.
These days, after one and a half seasons of coaching, I look like I know what I’m doing. I can teach the basics of underhand serving, bumping and setting (but not much else).
But back on my first day, I was meek and quiet. Even the coach’s whistle I was gifted by a teammate’s grandparent intimidated me.
To get the team’s attention, I tried to blow the whistle. A sad little vibrato emanated out of it. I didn’t even know how to use a coach’s whistle! I took a deeper breath and exhaled as hard as I could. A slightly louder vibrato emanated. Some of the girls turned around and looked at me, but most kept running around in circles, shrieking.
I blew again, harder, wincing at the self-induced hearing damage.
“OK GIRLS!” I shouted, unable to stop thinking about how silly I must look, pretending to be a coach and blowing my little whistle. But most of the girls looked up.
I retrieved the wadded-up note in my pocket, on which I had scrawled ideas for practice, all gleaned from searching “beginner volleyball drills” on YouTube. It was show time.
“Let’s warm up with some shuffles!”
The next thing I knew it was an hour later. Practice was over.
Whoa.
I looked around. I had done it. No one was crying, not even me.
I was a coach!
But what had just happened? Why did I feel so weird? Like my brain had been rebooted?
And that’s when it hit me: I had been “in the moment” for a solid hour, my mind singularly focused on coaching and teaching and shouting and herding girls and dodging balls coming at my head (accidentally, I think).
Unlike all the other waking hours of my day, I had not been focused on my complicated inner world, wherein lies a constant battle for self-compassion versus self-flagellation. Nor was I distracted by my phone, laptop, tablet, stupid beeping dishwasher, an endless onslaught of Slack messages, etc etc, basically anything that is supposed to improve efficiency but only makes my brain function like a squirrel’s.
And what a rush that was!
I still feel that way each practice, but with more confidence. I don’t want to admit it, but maybe there is something to this whole sport thing beyond mimicking tribal warfare?
Maybe.
Here’s the most exciting point we scored last season. My kiddo is serving. And I’m coaching, in red.
How do you clear your mind?
With coaching, I’m physically unable to check my phone (unless I want to be a really terrible coach). Same with going to yoga class. This is a good thing. Far too often I check it for no reason other than mild boredom and accidentally end up watching an endless stream of videos about animal odd couples (which can be therapeutic in its own way, I guess).
I also love to hike, except that my photographer brain gets switched on and I end up taking photos of bugs and stuff.
One of my favorite comedians, Tig Notaro, shared on her True Story podcast (which is hilarious; hi snerkbols!) that she removed all news apps from her phone to deliberately avoid news about current events, and that it’s been great for her mental health. (I am SO tempted, except I’m married to a journalist.)
We live in a very distractable, very intense world. What have you found that helps?
I’m trying to read this while responding to texts from a granddaughter, trying to schedule covid/rsv/flu vaccines, eat breakfast-lunch, remove a cat from my lap, message the vet’s office and decide whether to answer a call from a number I don’t know. I’d be SO much better off going for a long walk.
Now, you're a jock. This is what it feels like to focus and succeed, something almost every athlete has felt at least once. And, as you'll find, coaches are athletes, too. Congrats!