5 Leadership Lessons I Learned from Being A Losing Coach

Coaches can't worry about being liked, by players or their parents. If you are worried about being liked, coaching is probably not the best profession to pursue. Even worse, if you are making promises in the pursuit of being liked, it will come back to haunt you.

As a coach, when I won, it was because of the parents’ kids’ massive talent.
When I lost, it was because I was a knucklehead.
I coached 15 seasons of baseball and my record was a winning one, but we never won a state championship. Even though we made the playoffs every year, we had trouble in the postseason.
I retired from it when I was good and ready.
A colleague of mine, on the other hand, the football coach, stayed with us for 30 years, developed one of the greatest programs in the nation, won more state championships than anyone ever has in this state, and, now that he’s left for another school, will probably sit atop the leader board for all-time wins.
He could’ve written his own ticket, and had the community eating out of his hand. But he maintained a nice humility; his public persona was that way.
Meanwhile, parents often MUSED about their kids’ talents, privately; but in their hearts, everyone knew it: no one has superior talent year after year. Sooner or later, people have to admit that the coach and his loyal staff are just pretty darn good.
And to your point, the secret to success is that there is no secret to success.

I coached youth ice hockey for almost 30 years, from atoms to high school. Only a handful of those seasons were “winning” seasons. Was I a bad coach? When you consider that I usually coached the kids nobody else wanted. Most years, even in high school, I had kids who had to be taught to skate properly.

Every year, regardless of talent or level, I always told my kids that my main job was teaching them to be adults. They had to learn to accept defeat and be gracious in victory. Small things mattered, like putting on the team jersey for the first time or cheering the smallest/slowest player’s first goal.

The hardest part of coaching all those years was dealing with parents - either their unrealistic evaluation of their child’s talent or the meddling in coaches decisions. One year I had parents of 6-9 years old who: a) tried to schedule a 3 AM game; b) scheduled a 6 AM game in VA followed by an 8 AM game in MD; and c) told me that their son had played THREE SECONDS less than another boy.

The most satisfying part was the letters from parents and players and the thanks. One player from my first year is in his 50’s but still calls me Coach.

Would I trade it all for a state or league championship? Never!

I coached ice hockey for 20 years. Put banners on walls in three states, have trophy cases full of trophies with my players names on them. Won three state championships, finished in the top 5 in the nation twice and on more than one occasion had coaches from other programs beg me to come on board and coach their kids.

After tryouts and the team is selected, I meet with the parents and my first comment sets the tone of the season: “To make it to the NHL, your child will need to practice 6 days a week, 3 hours a day, 360 days a year for 15 years. Your kid is 14 and started playing house hockey last year, plays three sports and is in a marching band. And, only 1 kid in 3 states is drafted.”

After the initial shock wears off, I then tell them, “I am here to do two things. The first is to see that your child makes honor roll in school. The second is to ensure that your child will be respectful to teachers, family, coaches, friends as well as be a good citizen and give to his community. Winning is a product of this, not the other way around.”

At this point the mothers love me, the fathers hate me and my assistant coaches (who are fathers to players) have no clue what to think, since all they care about is their own child’s success. I then give to the parents my “guide to a successful season, what every player should know at his age level and the rules every player and parent needs to abide by.” I tell them to read them carefully and sign off on the player and parent code of conduct.

I still haven’t mentioned anything about hockey and several parents are confused. My final words to them before we get into hockey is, “I am here to put a banner on the wall. If the players choose to do what I tell them, and there is no conflict with the parents, there will be a banner. Make my life miserable, complain to me, tell me what I should be doing and what I am doing wrong, talk to other parents about firing me or telling me I am holding your child back from going pro, leave now. It will not be tolerated. And if you complain about your kids ice time, I will release your kid and you can explain why.”

My practices were tough. I send the families the lesson plan every Sunday detailing what we will do, and where we need to be at certain points of the season in order to win the championship. The players have to master the lessons before we move on. This season, my team didn’t get past the third lesson. 26 weeks and they still couldn’t break the puck out of the zone or make a good pass. Only once I went past lesson 3 because we needed to win faceoffs so we could get the puck out of our zone. The parents were furious that we did the same thing every week and their anger showed.

Turns out we went 16-2-2, won the division and was eliminated in the first round of the playoffs. Why? Because they couldn’t break the puck out of their zone, make a good pass or win a faceoff. They won so many games because 1 good player could skate through everyone. The parents didn’t care as long as a banner went on the wall, and aside from the regular season banner they got, the championship banner was not in the cards.

That night we had a team dinner. All season long the parents ignored me, went into their cliques, didn’t respond to emails, or invite me out when we were on the road. At our last dinner, one of the moms came up to me and told me how much my share was for dinner. I volunteered several hundred hours of my time to teaching their kids, I traveled all over the country on my own dime and for that I didn’t even get a thank you, I got a bill.

I realized something from all of this. All it takes is one parent to spoil a season for everyone. My skates have been put away, my sticks sent to my kid, equipment donated. I want nothing to do with the game ever again. Haven’t even gone to a game.

If only two kids “got” what you were coaching, then think of the huge impact you will make.

I coached to develop coaches. None of my kids were ever going to even play college basketball. But they could all be coaches at some level. That is where the real benefit is.

People look at Bob Hurley at Saint Anthony’s, and they completely miss what he is coaching. They see the tough, no nonsense guy screaming at his players. They imitate that.

Bob Hurley loves his kids. That is really his secret. I think that he could adapt and coach at any school and be successful. He doesn’t have a heart for basketball. He has a heart for young men. He’s building good, young men.

I read that you have that same heart for young men. Never underestimate the good that you have done for those young men.

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