7 Things That Made Playing for My Dad a Great Experience

The Parent/Athlete Relationship Part 2: Playing for Pops

 Game day.  This was the best team my dad had coached to this point.  All the guys grew up playing together and were now seniors.  With Jaden leading his band of brothers, we were 20-0 and poised for a run at the state championship.   On this night we would face off against Ohio City.  Our gym was packed with rowdy fans expecting a replay of the 4 overtime classic that the two teams played a month before. 

I wasn’t concerned with any of that though.  I was gonna get to play at halftime.  Our little developmental league was having a mini game,and I was stoked.  This was my big moment.  The halftime buzzer sounded, and Dad went into the locker room with the team to make halftime adjustments.   Before the game, he had made sure the team video guy would tape the halftime extravaganza so he could watch it when he got home. 

As the teams entered their respective locker rooms, I took the floor and put on a dribbling and shooting exhibition… at least in my own mind.  We found this archived footage about 4 years ago, and did not play out as I remembered. 

Over the span of 8 minutes there were 18 jump balls, 14 completed passes, 4 kids hit in the face with the ball, and a pair of the most fundamentally solid plays in basketball- hook passes.  It had to be hilarious to watch from the stands.  But from my perspective, I was ballin.  Showing off my newly acquired skills by weaving in and out of traffic with the grace of a mini Isaiah Thomas.  The crowd was roaring.  In actuality, they were just laughing at our cuteness or talking about the water cooler news of the week.  But in my world, it was a Final Four atmosphere.  With the clock winding down, I looked up at the scoreboard.  This battle of epic proportions was knotted at 0-0.  Someone had to make a play, and that someone was going to be me.  The ball was thrown to my friend Gavin, who put the ball straight over his head looking like the Statue of Liberty.  In predictable fashion, four defenders ran straight to the ball.  I WAS WIDE OPEN!  I put my hands in the air, doing some sort of jumping jacks, and let out a shrill scream to get Gavin’s attention.  The defender’s got closer and closer.  Gavin started leaning.  Before he toppled to the floor he executed one of the most beautiful hook passes ever attempted.  I caught the ball about 12 feet from the basket.  That’s a long shot for an 8 year old that weighs 55 pounds soaking wet.  I hurled the ball toward the basket with everything I had.   I didn’t even land on my feet.   From my place on the ground, it seemed like slow motion.  The ball was in the air forever and I could hear the 2001: Space Odyssey music in my head.  SWISH!  The crowd goes wild. 

I do not remember how the Ohio City game played out.   Dad wasn’t too concerned with that when we got home.  When he was home, he was dad.   We walked in the door and he said, “So let’s see the moment everyone has been talking about.”  He seemed so genuinely excited about seeing the tape of me in action.   My mom put the tape into the VCR as I sat on the couch half proud of what I had done and half anticipating what he would say.  As the tape rolled we all sat watching the action unfold. He would say things like “nice pass, Bradley”, “ooh, that’s a big boy rebound by John”, “I can tell you have been working on your dribbling, Josh.”  In his subtle ways, he always made sure that I understood that basketball was a team game.  It was not just about me.  The moment came where I hit the shot.  He let out a yell of celebration.  “Yes!”  I was grinning from ear to ear and my mom couldn’t stop laughing at my graceful landing.  When the tape ended, he grabbed me by the shoulders and looked at me straight in the eyes.  He did not tell me how great I was.  He said something so simple yet so meaningful… Something that would throw gasoline on my already burning basketball fire- “Josh, I’m so proud of you.”

*Excerpt from my upcoming book I Played for my Dad for Nine Years… And We Still Talk!

People ask me all the time:

“How did your dad do it?”

“How did you play for your dad for nine years?”

“What did your dad do that made you love the game so much?”

Well… It’s kind of a long story.  That is why I am writing a book.  But I want to share 7 things that my dad did that nurtured my love for the game.  His actions were intentional.  His actions allowed us to share so much joy in the game of basketball.   To this day, he is one of my best friends in the entire world.  I don’t “know it all” when it comes to coaching your kid.  But I can tell you a story.  I can tell you what it was like from the eyes of the coach’s kid.  I can tell you how this kid had as much fun playing the game as any person who has every picked up a basketball.

 

1. He Outsourced my coaching

I can see now that dad was blessed with the gift of foresight.  He had spent a great deal of time contemplating how to coach your kid.  He sought out some pretty solid advice from experienced people whom he trusted.  He had a remarkable grasp on this fact.  If we were going to maintain a healthy father-son relationship, he could not be the only one coaching me all the time.  He would need to delegate a good deal of my coaching and development to some trusted experts.  This delegation ensured that I would be constantly hearing a fresh voice.

2.  He Let My Game Be My Own

Dad never projected his own aspirations for my basketball career onto me.  He told me what it would take to be a great player.  Then he turned me loose to become great if that was my desire.  He never asked me if I had gotten my shots up.  He never guilt tripped me into working on my game.  His method was unique and effective.   He would not hover over me coaching my every move.  He would teach me fundamentals and skills, then turn me loose to work on it on my own.  So often, I see youth coaches and basketball dads stopping half of the player’s reps to give them some minor correction.  My stomach turns.  I begin to feel nauseous due to the bitterness of the youth basketball condition.  The result is a workout that is comprised of half reps and half talking.  The meta-result is a player who does not have the ability to improve on their own.

Dad taught me how to be self-aware and self-evaluate.  He told me that how good I would get at basketball was up to me, not him.  He would give me a pointer or two during my workouts at times.  But for the most part, we would form a plan of action together according to my size and skill.  A plan I could attack at my own pace.  He was giving me ownership of my development.  When something is yours, you are more likely to cherish it.  My motivation to improve was internal because he nurtured my love for the game.  He believed external motivation put on kids my age was shortsighted thinking that would eventually lead to burn out.  He was creating a true thinker of the game.

 

3. Indirect Coaching- Watching “Big Monday”

In my opinion, this strategy was one of the most effective strategies he ever adopted.  Dad and I shared a love for the game.  Naturally, we shared a love for our favorite television show as well- college basketball.  Countless nights during basketball season, dad would park his can on a recliner.  I would lay on the floor, and we would watch ball.  We did not just watch basketball for entertainment.  We analyzed every move by every player as well as every coach.

I would ask tons of questions .  He would usually answer my question with a question trying to get me to think about it.  I would start thinking out loud, and he would agree or disagree.

This type of dialogue would occur on a near nightly basis.  I probably learned as much basketball while we watched college games on TV as I did during my entire playing experience.  He was coaching me without me even realizing he was coaching me.  I was just having a great time watching the games with my dad.

Now I realize that his indirect coaching was molding and shaping my young basketball mind.  It was his secret weapon.  He did not rely solely on direct verbal coaching and correction during my formative years.  If he had, I’m sure we would have been completely sick of each other by my sophomore year in high school.

 

4. He Placed an Emphasis on The Little Things that I Did Well.

I am sure that it made him feel good when I made a shot.  He never told me though.  His emphasis was on the intangibles (the things I could control).  Work ethic, unselfishness, relentlessness on D, court vision, Being a great teammate, etc.  Those were the things my dad celebrated.  He used to tell me…

“You can’t shoot good every game, but you can always play D.  You can always distribute the rock.  You can always play hard.”

This took so much pressure off of shooting the basketball.  Sure, there were times that I put too much pressure on myself, but dad would help me through those times.  He would get me to put my focus where it belonged- On my game, not my shot.  He would tell that he was proud of me.  Not because I made a bunch of shots.  Because I played hard.  Knowing my dad was going to be proud of me just for trying my best allowed me to play with a clear mind.  This clear mind allowed me to play loose and get the most out of my athletic ability.

 

5. He Gave Me a “Heads-up.”

It was not always easy for us.  Nine years is a long time to be coached by one person (especially your dad).  But I knew early in my career what to expect because he told me.  During my freshman year in high school, dad called me into his office one day before practice.

“Josh I know it can be hard to play for your dad.” He said. “and I’m sure it’s going to get even harder at times.”

He just wanted to make sure I understood a few things:

• “Whatever you earn on the court, you will get. If you earn minutes, you’ll get minutes.  If you earn the bench, you’ll get the bench.”  He knew I wouldn’t have it any other way, but he wanted to be clear that he would be fair about playing time.
• He told me people will always talk and say outlandish things, but we would have to block out the noise and do our work.
• He wanted me to know ahead of time that because I had set a high standard for myself, he would be harder on me than most. That comes with the territory of being a better player.  So I should take pride in that.
• He also said that, because I was his son, he would be harder on me than most. He told me he wouldn’t do this on purpose, but it would probably happen because he was just human.  I appreciated his straight forward honesty.

It was very helpful that he gave me a heads up about what I should expect and why he was the way he was.  He was hard on me in practice.  But when we got home, he was dad, not coach.    He never let a week go by without telling me how much pride he took in the player and person I was.  When I heard him say that, I could take any amount of hard coaching.

 

6. Car Rides

We had a 15 minute trip home every day.  He never coached me in the car.  He always asked me about my day.  We often talked about life.  What happened in the gym stayed in the gym.  After my elementary and Jr. High games, he would tell me how much fun it was to watch me play.  He would celebrate a specific play or two, and tell me that he was proud of me.  He never picked my game apart in the car or at home.  I am thankful that I didn’t have to live through the horror story car rides home that some athletes tell.  If i had, without a doubt I would have developed different feelings about the game.  If I played hard, that would be good enough for dad.  Looking back, I realize how much this practice empowered me.  At the time I thought this type of ride home was a completely standard practice for fathers of athletes.  I realize now how special these car rides were.

 

7. Hand-written Letters

Throughout my career, my dad wrote me many hand-written letters. To this day, I still have many these letters from dad.  One of my favorite letters that he wrote was when I was 11 years old after his summer basketball camp.  The last thing he said in the letter stuck with me forever.  “Nobody, Nobody plays harder than you.”

I believe that he put it in my mind on purpose that nobody played harder than I did.  Eleven year old minds are easily shaped by the people they respect and seek approval from.  That one sentence became my identity for the rest of my career.  “Nobody, nobody plays harder than me.”  These letters meant more to me than any trophy.

*24 years later I still have this letter.  It is one of my most prized possessions.

 

People have said to me:

“Yeah, but it was easy for your dad because you had the fire for the game.  He never had to ask you to get in the gym.  You just wanted to.”

This is true.  I did have the fire.  But I am telling you- It was nurtured.  I had it naturally, but i kept it because he always let it be mine.  

My sister Rachael played basketball in high school.  She could make some three’s, but she would be the first to tell you that she was not a special player.  She did not have the burning desire to be.  She liked the game.  She did not love it.  Dad never forced his aspirations on her either.   He never tried to make her be like me.  She just had fun playing the game, and she played hard.  Even though her dreams and passion were different than mine, he was just as proud of her.  He let her pursue her own dreams.  Turned out, her passion was the piano, and she was unreal.  We were all her biggest fans.

 

Coming soon!

The Parent/Athlete Relationship Part 3:  Best Practices that will empower your child athlete

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