Not quite 20 years ago, my youngest son’s football team was so bad that as the season was winding down, the coach would sometimes choose something else over coaching on practice days. One of those days when coach chose something other than training the pre-teens in the skills and lessons of football, another opportunity for lessons appeared.

I stood away from the few parents who were at practice, preferring to witness from a bit of distance, which is the way I prefer things. The kids were using the coach-less situation to develop their own hierarchy with one of the “star” players choosing to rile up some players and boss around others. He attempted a coup to take charge of a practice that one lone father was trying to lead. I watched, evaluating whether my assistance was wanted; the delay was caused because the dad and I had a “manly misunderstanding” a few weeks prior. We were not friends nor on friendly terms. The mouthy player’s words with fellow players were one thing, but when he mouthed off some disrespect to the father, I enlisted myself to help; the man was not just a father, he was that player’s father.

Coaching was not the man’s job, nor did it appear to be his expertise. He stepped up and into the fray because it was necessary. The man who should have earned much respect had been disrespected.

I headed over to where the man was trying to bring order to a team of near-teens who were being purposely distracted. Some joined the disorganization of the practice and some milled around, avoiding the mess. The man noticed me walking over; his countenance said, “What does HE want?”  The last time we interacted, the words we shared were not of respect. That would change this afternoon.

“Hey!  You guys straighten up for coach!”  I was barking at the team as I got close to the chaos.

“He’s not our coach,” one player called out, attitude dripping off his words like wax off a candle, hardening once they landed on ears.

“Yeah?  Where is ‘coach?’ Not here, again. This man is trying to help. He is working with you. He is coach, now we’re going to do what he says and have practice.”  My fiery words and tone melted the belligerent players words. He quit talking. The father and I quickly decided to split the team for drills and an organized practice ensued. I chose the troublemaker to be in my group. He didn’t say much for the rest of the practice session.

I don’t know if any of the players recall that practice, or if the father did. We showed each other respect when we encountered each other during the rest of the season. Three key lessons from that experience have stuck with me; I hope something similar happened for the others involved.

1. Mend fences for the good of the team, whatever the “team” happens to be, e.g., family, neighbors, etc. Sometimes the best mending is not an overt repair, but a respectful “amnesia” for whatever created a rift.
2. Remember that discipline – self- and of a group – is key to getting things on track, whatever “things” happen to be, e.g., goals, tasks, missions, dreams, etc.
3. Accept responsibility, even if something that is needed is not your “job.”

Youth sports provide fields for learning of many types, for the players and the adults.