“Who a coach is and what a coach does, shapes what players do and who they become.”
This is one of the most challenging and vital truths for us as coaches and leaders. The question we must ask ourselves regularly is this:
“What does it feel like to be coached by me?”
That question is not just reflective—it’s transformational. Because who we are is the message. What we embody, not just what we teach, ultimately impacts the lives we influence.
The Echo of ‘Coach’
I was recently walking through an indoor soccer center where a Soccer Shots class was underway for 2-year-olds. Parents lined the sidelines taking pictures, cheering, and celebrating every moment.
As I passed through, I suddenly heard a voice:
“Coach!”
I turned to see a former player from a previous school, now a father himself. He enthusiastically pointed to a friend nearby—another former player. Both were a decade out of college, one watching his son on the field, the other sharing that he now had twin girls at home.
Time had clearly moved on, but that’s not what stood out most.
What hit me was this: I am still ‘Coach’ to them.
Even though they’re grown men, husbands, and fathers now—that name still means something.
“I still call my college coach… Coach. No matter how often he tells me to call him Steve, I just can’t do it. He is Coach to me—always will be.”
That word—Coach—is a term of endearment, respect, and responsibility. It’s a name that must be cherished and carried with care, because it represents how we’ve walked with others through seasons that shaped their identity.
“Whoever wants to be great among you must be your servant.” – Matthew 20:26
“Let each of you look not only to his own interests, but also to the interests of others.” – Philippians 2:4
When I Got It Wrong
As we caught up, I remembered something else—these two players were on the team during my most pressure-filled season. I was on the verge of being fired. My athletic director would text me after losses saying things like:
“It looks like we have enough talent to win. I hope you get this figured out.”
And in that pressure cooker, I failed them.
I didn’t coach with a shepherd’s heart—I managed like a mechanic.
- Right tool = used and valued.
- Wrong tool = discarded.
I used them. I cared more about performance than people. I led out of fear—not faith, not love.
“There is no fear in love, but perfect love casts out fear.” – 1 John 4:18
“The thief comes only to steal and kill and destroy. I came that they may have life and have it abundantly.” – John 10:10
A Moment of Redemption
After reflecting for a few minutes, I walked back into the facility and asked if I could speak with them privately.
“I need to ask your forgiveness. I used you. I let pressure dictate how I treated you. I didn’t care for you—I only cared about your performance. I was wrong. And I am sorry.”
I briefly explained the environment I was in—but I didn’t use it as an excuse.
I also added—half-jokingly—“Don’t worry, I’m not in a 12-step program!”
They both smiled, put a hand on my shoulder, and said:
“Coach, you don’t owe us that. But it means the world that you’d say it.”
“Confess your sins to one another and pray for one another, that you may be healed.” – James 5:16
What Will Your Trophy Cabinet Hold?
When I look back on my coaching career, I’m not interested in counting dusty trophies.
I want to see transformed lives:
- Men who are courageous.
- Players who are full of joy.
- Leaders who are equipped, empowered, and thriving because they spent time with me.
I can’t control the outcomes.
I can’t control how players respond to my leadership.
But I can control:
- How courageous I am.
- How much courage I pass on.
- How many doors I walk through first, asking them to follow.
“Be imitators of me, as I am of Christ.” – 1 Corinthians 11:1
“Blessed are the meek… Blessed are those who mourn… Blessed are the peacemakers.” – Matthew 5:3-10 (The Sermon on the Mount)
