“Hey, Coach, Can I Talk to You?”
It was a phrase we preached to our athletes from day one. We coaches, collectively, do not like surprises. If you have to miss practice, communicate. If you got hurt goofing around outside of practice, communicate. If you feel you are not getting enough playing time, communicate. Part of our job as coach and mentor to young student-athletes is to build their communicative skillset as they transition into adulthood. We stress that when you look a coach in the eye, and communicate in a mature adult way, respect will be gained on both sides.
In the summer of 2016, I experienced an interaction with an athlete that seemed like a punch in the gut initially, but as time marched forward, the interaction transitioned into a powerful story.
Vinny G was a young man at Marine City High School that everyone enjoyed. He had an infectious smile. He engaged in conversation with both students and teachers like an old friendly soul. He was extremely intelligent, an Eagle Scout, and a hell of an athlete. Vinny was the type of student that blended into a wide range of subsets in the school, and that was a compliment to his communication skills.
As a sophomore, we brought Vinny up to the varsity football squad – mainly because he was ready both physically and mentally. He was our fullback and during game five of that year, Vinny tore up his knee on a fluke play. He was tripped up at the line of scrimmage and, as he tried to regain his balance, the force that was imparted on his leg caused his ACL and medial meniscus to tear. He was out for the season and the injury required surgery.
To nobody’s surprise, Vinny healed from the surgery quickly and attacked his rehab. He seemed poised for his comeback and attended all of our preseason workouts, oozing with his branded positivity. As we neared the start of the season, Vinny approached and uttered the words we have preached so often, “Hey Coach, can I talk to you?”
Vinny shared that he was lacking confidence in his knee and felt he was not ready to play football at a high level. He had decided to play tennis in the fall and wanted to make sure he told me face-to-face. In preparation for this essay, I spoke with Vinny recently and asked if this action was on his own, or if his parents made him talk to me. Vinny stated, “No Coach, that was all me, I couldn’t live with myself if I didn’t tell you face-to-face.”
My initial reaction was immediate anger and I had to pause to not let that influence my response. My anger was twofold: one – how could he let me down after I brought him up as a sophomore?; and two – how could I lose a kid to tennis? (No offense tennis guys, I’m just sharing my immature reaction.)
My response deployed lessons learned from my own high school head football coach, Al Drath. Al leaned more empathetic than most football coaches, and truly built lifelong relationships with his athletes. I told Vinny, “I respect that you are telling me face to face. I am not going to lie, Vinny; I am disappointed but I support your decision. I want you to think about continuing to rehab and if your confidence comes back, you can join the team any time during the season. Remember Vinny, we sometimes make long playoff runs so even if you rejoin in late October, I am fine with that.”
When the conversation ended, Vinny shook my hand and walked away. As I shared the news with other coaches, I quickly stopped any disparaging comments and repeated the phrase, “He communicated the right way, he did what we preached!” As the school year started, I made the conscious effort to check on Vinny and see how he was doing. I continued to say, “Hello,” to him in the hall daily and treated him no differently than any other player.
Vinny rejoined the team his senior year and was asked to change positions. We were in need of an offensive lineman and, because of Vinny’s strength and intelligence, I thought he could be an excellent guard in our Wing T offense. “Coach, I will play wherever you need me,” was his response. Another testament to Vinny’s character, a team-first mentality. He learned the position with amazing speed and became so proficient that I demanded he tell neighboring lineman what to do on virtually every play. Watching game film, I remember Vinny making adjustments from one play to the next when facing larger opponents. It was a clinic on how to adjust pad level and angles and this was his first year as a guard.
During our post season banquet, I remember getting choked up as I talked about Vinny and his journey with high school football. In addition to the great comeback story, Vinny would, also on a daily basis and without exception, come up to me at the end of practice, weights, or a game, and thank me for the experience. In my thirty-three years of coaching football at Marine City, no other athlete ever did that as consistently as this young man.
Vinny is now just shy of a chemistry degree at Oakland University and utilizes the skillset he learned as an Eagle Scout as he refurbishes homes. He is a shining example of how athletes should communicate with their coaches. He is a player that I will be proud of forever and when we next talk, I will ask, “Hey Vinny, can I talk to you? I want to kick your ass in pickle ball…lets go.”