Shortening the Bench: The Other Side of the Clipboard

The stage was set for the fairy tale finish to the season. A team of underdogs flying through the playoffs, including a penultimate game against the second best team. The Goliaths on the other end of the court that went undefeated all season and cruised into the finals.

The kind of match up we had no business even playing in, let alone winning. From a personal perspective, it was a difficult basketball season to adjust to. Thanks to some teammate growth spurts and a few new players I fell down the depth chart. From a perennial starter that was regularly double shifted the year before, to the sixth man. Usually the first one off the bench, but on the bench nonetheless. At first, I felt shorted (pun intended), but as the season wore on, and we started to find some success, I started to adjust to my new place on the team. As the team got onto a roll in the second half of the season, I realized it didn't matter that I was playing less. It was what was clearly best for the team. Besides, even if it was less, I was still playing a game that I loved. Here's the part where I should put in the obligatory "I always wanted to be a coach" comment. Even as a young athlete, I glamorized the idea of being in charge; running plays, developing strategies and systems, and making the tough calls that lead to a championship. I've had a lot of great coaches over the years, with the two I had that season being no exception. So I trusted in their decision to change up my place on the depth chart. However, there was only so much the clipboard carriers could do next game. The other team was undefeated for a reason. This was on full display in the semifinals when they were leading by over 50 points before halftime, and their coach was given a warning for poor sportsmanship. If we stood a chance against this team, it was going to take a team effort, and a miracle.

Pre-game warm ups come to an end and we huddle up. This was real, and it was about to start. The coaches list off their "Keys to the game"; the same things we'd been practicing the entire week. They get to the starting lines, five familiar names are listed off and I grab my usual spot at the end of the pine. The whistle blows, and game on. Then the one thing I never expected started happening; we started winning. Was it the energy in the gym? Was it the coaches' pre-game speech? Was it the fact all we heard since the semifinals was that we didn't deserve to be here? We'll never know, but the boys were playing like there was a fire under them. Two minutes go by: The bench is getting a little uncomfortable. Three minutes go by: I start glancing over at the coaches. Four minutes go by: I'm starting to forget what a basketball feels like. Five minutes go by: "Ref, sub" Finally. Coming into my first shift we were up, but not by much. Four or five points maybe? My goal was to come off the court leading by at least six. A few rebounds, a couple assists and a drawn foul later and I'm making my way back to the bench. A quick glance over at the scoreboard on the way to bench; mission accomplished. Two minutes go by: I'm chugging my water in preparation. Four minutes go by: I start counting tiles on the ceiling. Six minutes go by: You get the idea.

This goes on for awhile. I knew this was a big game, but I couldn't help but feel like a fresh sub might be a little more impactful than a drained starter. But we were still winning, so who was I to question their methods? At halftime I had played about six minutes. Stark contrast to the starters that were sitting close to fifteen. I felt for the players that had played less than me (Did some even touch the court that night?) But we were winning by 12. A 12 point lead in a game everyone thought we had no business even qualifying for. I don't think I'll ever forget that number. T-w-e-l-v-e points. It wasn't groundbreaking, but this was the first time the other team wasn't winning at the half all season. The whistle blows and I find myself back in the usual spot. Here we go boys, take it home. Another five minutes go by; man those starters are starting to look a little sluggish on the court. But finally, I'm in. Another good shift by my standards, but I knew it was going to be awhile before I got another. Another five minutes go by, and there's only a couple minutes left on the clock in third quarter. Time to finish the quarter strong. Thirty seconds by go "Ref, sub". That was brief.

I'm now sitting at about eight minutes this game. Less than the starting line played in the first quarter. But that's fine. Although it wasn't as big, we still had the lead. The starting line back on the court to start the fourth.

Two minutes go by: Might as well break out the camping supplies, this might be awhile. Five minutes go by: A wooden seat has never been more uncomfortable in my life. Ten minutes go by: They're practically walking out there coach! Twelve minutes go by: Can you guys even see me? Can you even see the game?! Fifteen minutes go by: That's the game.

My grand total of 0 minutes in the fourth quarter was hard to stomach. But it was finally time to pop the champagne, unfortunately for the other side of the court however. Not only did we blow our lead, but we lost by 7 points. Our best player breaks down and starts crying while still trying to breath. "Good game boys, we put in a great effort" Well, five of us did. "You guys did everything you could" I really did put full effort into keeping that bench warm. "I'm proud of each and everyone of you" Oh, so you do know I exist? I haven't played a game of basketball since. Did I at least learn a lesson? At the time, I didn't think so.

Flash forward to last indoor soccer season.

This was the first time I was coaching completely alone. No other chefs in the kitchen, this was my recipe. I had complete control over each and every decision. Now, I understand that I was given a talented, albeit small, roster. There was one player on my roster however that was three years younger than everyone else. He was playing above his age bracket, and it showed. I'll never understand the logistics behind his inclusion on my team, but you take what you're given. Besides, I'll be darned if he wasn't the hardest worker out there every game.

It wasn't hard to find him playing time when you were winning most games by 5+ goals. Even if he didn't touch the ball for the entirety of some games, he still got every opportunity. A single blemish on the regular season record while playing a game with no subs and a gold medal in City Finals later and I'm primed to take my team somewhere I've never taken them before; Provincials. This was my first, and to this day, last go at a provincial tournament as a coach, for any sport. I was ready to put in the work to go as far as we could. The boys come out inspired and we started taking the tournament by storm. Our favourite little trooper getting a few less minutes here and there in these tight games, but we were winning. He didn't mind right? It was for the team. Due to the round robin format, we were slated to play for silver in the last game. Not the ideal place to be, but still more than a few boys from the smallest club in Calgary saw as a possibility just three months ago. We needed a win, a loss, or even a tie, would mean a bronze medal. A tight defensive game resulted in a 2-1 lead at the half. It was our game to win or lose. 25 more minutes of hard work on the field and we could end our fairy tale season on a winning note with a silver lining.

I was sure to give every player plenty of playing time across the first half. After all, it was a team effort that got us this far. A little line matching made for the results we were looking for with no one sitting out.

Then came the last five minutes. Momentum was swinging toward the other team, but we were still holding on to our 2-1 lead. It didn't take a tactical wizard to see the other coach shortened his bench. Now, I know that running your starters to finish up a close game is a legitimate coaching strategy. Heck, maybe even the right move. Besides, this was provincials. We didn't sign up for this, we earned this. This was free soccer. This was the time for tough decisions.

So I don't blame the coach on the other bench. But this was my bench, and my decision to make. Do I continue to match lines and give us our best chance to take the win, or I make sure no player on my roster ever feels like I did that game? I looked at my little pylon, who was next in the rotation, and called off a sub for him. He ran out onto the field full of glee. That didn't last too long however. About a minute in he got turned inside out by the ball carrier, so he turned and gave him a shove.

Yellow card: Two minutes in the sin bin.

Four minutes to go, half of which were shorthanded. Both teams knew a tie meant the silver going the other way. Had I made the wrong decision? Did I just cost the rest of my team the medal they worked so hard for all season just for some personal sense of egalitarianism? 46 hard minutes played, only to have a frustrated teammate take an unnecessary penalty in a position he maybe shouldn't have even been put into. I felt like a bad coach.

There's something I should have learned that season though. Never count the Rovers out. The four players out there didn't give up a single shot for the entire two minute penalty. I couldn't believe it. This was a team that believed in themselves and deserved the opportunity to face down the adversity; every single player.

"Stay out there and finish you shift" I shouted as he stepped out of the penalty box.

The buzzer went, and that was it. We were Provincial (Almost) Champions! I look back at both of these situations often as a coach. There's a lot to take away from it. For one, I understand the choice my coaches made that game. Would we have won by resting the starting line a little more? I'll never know. But I do know the pressure to make the right calls in a championship game. Did I make the right call by keeping my full rotation in such a close game? The medal we were given seems to say so.

At the end of season, they don't ask "How?" they ask "How many?" But, I for one, am glad to be proud of the How.

#coaching #basketball #soccer