My dad was a coach for over 40 years. He was always good at teaching a sport and growing kids into skilled athletes. However, I was never that great at sports. I lacked the “killer instinct” that so many of the best athletes seem to have. I grew to be tolerant of sports because I like being around people. By the time I graduated from high school, I had pretty much sworn off of competitive sports in any official capacity, and I figured that was the end of it.
Flash forward a few years and I find myself looking for ways to get on the San Juan Hills High School campus and meet the students there. I kept hearing that one great way to start relationships on campus was through sports, and so I asked to become a volunteer for the track and field team. On my first day, I was introduced to the team as Coach G., the new coach. I stumbled my way through drills and techniques that practice, but somehow, I gained the respect of the kids.
On our first home meet, I was assigned to help out with the starter and the timers, running around whenever something needed doing. I was there at the beginning of each and every race, checking the lanes, encouraging the runners, and covering my ears as the gun went off. I was able to cheer on my runners, and congratulate them as they finished. I was proud of them, and they would each say “thanks Coach G.” as they passed by. At the end of the night, our team had won and our kids were happily exhausted. I told them goodbye before driving home with that word echoing in my head, “Coach...coach...coach.”
I had never imagined that I would be a coach, much less for such a great team. But here I am; encouraging, cheering, screaming, giving advice. Some of these kids are my friends, some of them live in my neighborhood. Some of them have even started to talk to me about their lives, their families, their thoughts on God. Every day I get to be with them is a blessing, even if it is as a coach.
-Josh
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