“You might be the only Jesus some will ever see,” or so goes the oft-repeated phrase. We are called to be light and life just as Jesus is the Light and the Life. We are called to be His ambassadors, His earthly representatives, as if He is making His appeal directly through us, as Paul said in 2 Corinthians 5:20. When people encounter us they should also encounter Christ. This is true for all believers, but as coaches it becomes much more. You might be the only encouragement your players ever hear. You might be the only praise your players ever receive. You might be the only wisdom, discipline, kindness, generosity, that they experience. You might be the only love they ever feel.
This is a uniquely high calling and perhaps an uncomfortably heavy burden, but it is one that as coaches, we must take with the seriousness and the intentionality that it deserves. Especially in today’s landscape, we might spend more time with our players than even their parents do. For some, we might even be the only parental figure they have or at least the only positive one. We are not here to simply teach players about the sport, and we are certainly not there just to win games. If sport reflects life, then we are there to help prepare them for whatever life they may face in the here and now, but also for the rest of their lives.
I have had a lot of coaches in my lifetime, but the only ones I really remember are the outliers—the great ones and the awful ones. Thankfully, there were only a few that fit into the awful category, and they often make for the more memorable stories. Unfortunately, there were not that many great ones either, but the impact those special few men had on my life has had eternal consequences. It has been nearly 20 years since I played for Joe Scheuerman, the JUCO Hall of Fame coach of Delgado Community College in New Orleans. He has had as big an impact on my life as any teacher, pastor, or mentor could. Everyone you talk to that has spent any time at all with Coach Joe will tell you the same thing; he is a uniquely gifted coach and leader of men.
If you ask them why, however, I doubt that they could give you any real reason. To be fair, he has a brilliant baseball mind, gives incredible motivational speeches, puts his players in the best position to succeed, and can excellently coach any and all of the finer points and mechanics of the game. That is not that unique, though. A lot of coaches can do that. They cannot, however, make you feel the way that Coach Joe makes you feel. I still remember some of the things Coach Joe taught me, but more than anything else, I remember how much he cared for me. I recall how I felt when I knew that he was genuinely proud of me, that he was excited for me, that he really liked me. Years later, I brought my 8-month-old daughter Adeline Joy to a game to meet him. As he scooped her up and held her, I realized that just as I wanted to be the very best ballplayer for him, I also wanted to make him even prouder for the man, the husband, and the father I am now—the man he helped me become. When you choose to lead your players, this is the commitment you are making to them. It may not lead them to greatness on the field, but it should lead them to greatness in life.
There’s another saying; "People will forget what you said, they’ll forget what you did, but they’ll never forget how you made them feel." We may be the only Jesus these kids ever meet, and it is more important than we could possibly know to get it right. In fact, we may never know just how important these relationships and interactions are this side of eternity. Encourage, give, be present, appropriately discipline, be prepared, teach, impart wisdom, push, inspire, and above all love, because love covers so many of our deficiencies and gaps. Make sure your players understand you love them, you like them, you believe in them, and you are for them. Remember that what you give them now, whether it translates to statistical success or not, will go with them for the rest of their lives and beyond. And it is something you will have to give an account for one day yourself.
Lead well. Love well.
Justin Aldridge