Memoirs of an Old Ball Coach

The Dark Side of Coaching: What You Don’t See Under the Friday Night Lights

By Coach Chuck Banks

I’m going to ruffle some feathers here.

And that’s okay.

As a former head coach and former assistant coach, I’ve lived on the other side of the fence. I’ve stood under those Friday night lights when the stands were packed, and I’ve stood there when people started heading for the exits before the clock hit zero.

I’ve heard the cheers.

I’ve heard the criticism.

And I know there is a dark side to coaching that most people never see.

When community members or parents publicly voice their displeasure and start saying things like, “That coach is an idiot,” or “That coach doesn’t know what he’s doing,” they may think they’re simply expressing an opinion about a football game.

But those words travel.

Players hear them. Other parents hear them. Assistant coaches hear them. Eventually, the locker room hears them.

And a culture that took years to develop can begin to unravel surprisingly fast.

The same thing happens when a stadium starts emptying before the game is over. Maybe the score isn’t going the way everyone hoped. Maybe it’s cold. Maybe it’s late.

But imagine being a 16- or 17-year-old kid standing on that sideline and watching your community leave while you’re still fighting.

Those things matter.

What You Don’t See

You see Friday night.

The head coach sees Monday through Sunday.

People see the play call that didn’t work.

The coach remembers the dozens of hours spent studying film, preparing practice plans, meeting with assistants and trying to put kids in the best possible position to succeed.

People see the scoreboard.

The coach sees the kid who is struggling at home.

He sees the player who lost his starting position and needs someone to keep believing in him.

He worries about injuries. Grades. His staff. His players. His program.

Then he goes home and worries about all of it some more.

Coaching Doesn’t End When Practice Ends

Being a head football coach can become nearly a year-round job.

The season ends, and you’re evaluating. Then comes the weight room, offseason development, camps, summer workouts, staff meetings, scheme discussions, film study, equipment, fundraising, youth programs, parent meetings and eligibility.

Before you know it, August is here again.

Meanwhile, that coach has a family, a career and responsibilities outside of football.

A coach can walk into his house after a difficult loss physically exhausted and mentally drained, but his mind won’t shut off.

What could I have done differently?

Did I prepare them well enough?

Did I put that kid in the right position?

What do we need to change?

How do I keep this team together?

Coaches lose sleep over this stuff.

I know because I’ve been there.

It’s Not a Position for the Meek

You are going to be criticized.

You are going to make mistakes.

You’re going to call something that doesn’t work.

You’re going to make personnel decisions somebody doesn’t agree with.

You’re going to lose games you thought you should win.

Sometimes you’re going to do everything right and still lose.

That’s athletics.

Accountability comes with the headset. Coaches understand that.

But there’s a difference between accountability and tearing people down.

Questioning a decision is one thing. Trying to destroy someone’s credibility in the community is something entirely different.

Because behind that headset is a human being.

The Part Nobody Sees

What outsiders often don’t see is how deeply coaches can love their programs.

You don’t see the worry they carry for their athletes.

You don’t see the concern they have for their assistants and their assistants’ families.

You don’t see the conversations behind closed doors.

You don’t see a coach sitting alone after everyone has left the building, wondering whether he reached a kid who desperately needed him.

And you don’t see all the sacrifices a coach’s own family makes so he can pour himself into somebody else’s children.

Wins eventually become numbers in a record book.

Trophies collect dust.

Relationships last.

Communities Build Culture Too

We talk constantly about coaches building culture.

But the community is part of that culture.

Parents are part of it. Fans are part of it. Administrators are part of it. Former players are part of it. The student section is part of it.

Everybody contributes something.

When the message surrounding a program constantly becomes negative, eventually that negativity reaches the athletes.

But when a community says, “We’re with you. Keep fighting. Keep building. Keep representing us,” young people hear that too.

That doesn’t mean coaches are above criticism. They aren’t.

It means disagreement can happen without destroying people.

Before You Call the Coach an Idiot…

Remember something.

That “idiot” might have spent 20 hours preparing for the game you watched for two and a half.

He might have spent the week worrying about one of his players.

He might have missed dinner with his family.

He might have gotten home late every night.

And after the stadium emptied and everyone else moved on with their weekend, he probably went home thinking about every decision he made.

Then he woke up the next morning and started figuring out how to make his kids better.

That’s coaching.

It can be incredibly rewarding.

It can also be lonely, exhausting and unforgiving.

So criticize the call.

Debate the strategy.

Talk football.

That’s part of what makes the game great.

But don’t forget the human being wearing the headset.

And when things aren’t going well, maybe don’t be so quick to leave.

Stay in those stands.

Because the kids are still playing.

The coaches are still coaching.

And your community is still being represented.

Culture isn’t something a head coach builds alone.

We all build it.

And we can all tear it down.

— Coach Chuck Banks

Memoirs of an Old Ball Coach

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