When you’re the coach’s kid, your wardrobe consists of two colors. School colors. You wear them proudly.
When you’re the coach’s kid, and you get in trouble, you’re reminded to “be a team player!” When you get hurt, you walk it off. When you’ve done nothing but watch TV, eat frosting straight out of the tub (the sprinkle kind), and make your little brother do all your chores, you get dropped off at the corner and you run home.
When you’re the coach’s kid, family vacations are work trips. Bleacher butt, concession food, sunburned necks, and the never-ending roadtrip ABC game. (Mom’s still looking for a Y…)
When you’re the coach’s kid, your season is his “in season.” So he’ll miss a lot. But when he is there, you can’t miss him. He is the loudest parent in the stands. You relish his encouragement.
When you’re the coach’s kid, you will go home from your game, your meet, and watch film. Real speed and slow-mo.
When you’re the coach’s kid, the team is your family. They call during dinner, and the coach answers. They need help in the middle of the night, the coach goes. They want somewhere to watch the Superbowl, they come over and sit on every couch, on every chair, in every corner of your house.
When you’re the coach’s kid, you can never complain about the coach. (Well, to your mom you can).
When you’re the coach’s kid, you want one thing, to grow up and play for the coach. So you work hard. You work harder than all the other kids. You have to prove you earned your spot. That it wasn’t a gift just because “you’re the coach’s kid.”
When you’re the coach’s kid, and the coach loses his job…
No one knows how much a coach gives. Or how much more he gives up.
No one hears all he mentors, guides, and encourages. No one sees the stress, worry and concern.
No one understands the depth of his love for his players, his “kids.”
No one, but the coach’s kid.
When you’re the coach’s kid, you are proud. No matter the school colors, or the title on his resume, he is your coach. You wouldn’t want it any other way.
Proud to be “Coach Lynn’s Daughter”
2 thoughts on “When you’re the coach’s kid”
Great read, coaching college baseball for the past twenty years you just summed it up. Recruiting trips are vacations, coaching in summer leagues and displacing them, but they get to play with mascots was their fun. Them waiting to practice after my practice. The excitement of the fellas coming over for thanksgiving. Live and die with our wind and losses. My three girls have a thousand big brothers and I am lucky to do what I do.
Thank you for your comment Joel! You and your girls are certainly lucky! I’m 32 and I’ve got all these guys that still look out for me! Happy Thanksgiving!