As the spring season begins, I’d like to address the question no one has been asking and officially announce my retirement from youth sports coaching. Finding great coaches on Martha’s Vineyard is an ongoing challenge. At all levels, from soccer mini-kickers to high school hockey, you need passionate adults with a deep knowledge of the sport, tremendous patience, an ability to relate to young people, unreasonable amounts of free time, and a willingness to take calls from parents who do not understand why you can’t see that spark of greatness in their kid.
I met only a few of these criteria.
My lifetime Island record of nine wins against roughly sixty-seven losses as a lacrosse and basketball coach had nothing to do with an inability to relate to kids. In fact, my halftime speeches were epic, particularly the one about the skinny young prince who found greatness inside himself once he grasped a magic sword and yelled that he had the power.
“Your lacrosse sticks are magic swords,” I told the assembled team. “You just need to find that power inside you!”
A few of the kids figured out I was talking about He-Man, but we still won the game.
Time wasn’t really an issue for me as a coach, as I’m self-employed. Generally I’m a patient person, too, except when waiting for coffee to brew, and the parent calls were never a problem because I always leave my phone on silent, and often in my pickup. It’s really more of a car phone.
Like so many other Island volunteers, I didn’t intend to coach. I started in lacrosse because the actual coach needed some help, and he baited me into the assistant position by revealing that he was a fan of the late Cormac McCarthy’s Blood Meridian. I figured we’d spend most of our practices debating whether the novel’s main antagonist, Judge Holden, was actually the devil incarnate. Instead we talked about zone defenses, the merits of different drills, and what nicknames we should give the kids. This last part was rewarding. I was particularly proud of our shorthand for our midfield groups. Instead of lines one, two, and three, we dubbed them Army, Navy and Space Force. Nothing gave me more joy as a coach than sending the third group into the game by yelling, “Space Force, go!”
As a coach, off-Island games are a unique experience, regardless of the sport. You sacrifice entire days and even weekends to travel. Kids lose their money, their jerseys, even, somehow, their shoes. Some beg to go into games, others plead to remain on the bench, and there’s a joy to dragging them off the Rock, in the middle of winter especially. You get to teach teenagers critical life skills such as the importance of securing napkins before inhaling greasy pork sandwiches in otherwise civilized cafes.
This past season, I was the assistant to a coach with actual, verifiable, proven knowledge of the game of basketball, and while we did win a few games, the high point came during our season-ending playoff loss, when one of our players made his first basket of the year. Both of us cheered so loud that we completely confused the other coach, since we were down by at least a dozen points at the time.
My retirement from coaching should cause no great disturbance in the force, but I do wish that the more dedicated, passionate, knowledgable and successful Island coaches in our community were more appreciated for their efforts at all levels — both when they step down and while they’re still coaching.
We need more people like them. We need potential coaches living and working here on the Island to know that they will be appreciated and supported by the community, too. And, if you’re interested in coaching yourself and need any inspirational halftime speeches, I’m always happy to help.
Greg Mone lives in West Tisbury.
