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Author: Lisa Witcher

Working on her 29th year as a coach’s wife and a professional educator, Lisa enjoys high school athletics and working with teachers and students. She serves Union Public Schools as an administrator and considers “Mama” the best title she has ever received. She and her husband have raised two children on their coaching journey, and together they enjoy Yankee baseball as they wait for the next football season to arrive.

Living in the Space Between Winning and Losing

Yes, we step into that space and remind our men of the kids who do listen … of the kids who become adults and still reach out … of the kids who needed a surrogate father … of the kids who played out of their shoes … of the kids who just need one caring adult and our men stepped into the space, the space between winning and losing—and that made all the difference.

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marriage coaching football change growth spouse wife

Dear Lord, Are You Sure This Guy is My Coach/Husband?

I have loved him through the perfect, undefeated, state championship seasons, the heartbreak of great competitive losses, and the fickleness of high school athletics. After years of learning how to accept that he’s perfectly alright with doing NOTHING for literally H O U R S at a time except watching game after game, he began more than one morning of this holiday break with something like, “Babe, which of your projects would you like me to help you with today?”

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When You Are Worn Out and Bone-Tired, Count On the Promises You Made

Being a coach’s wife is rarely ever fair ladies, in the trenches of any season, in the midst of early childhood years when every need relies on you, or even if it’s only you and your man—it is rarely fair. Nevertheless, every good football coach will tell you to never leave the game in the hand of the ref—don’t count on fair.

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When the Next General Calls: Following My Coach to the Ends of the Earth

Heading east on I-40, somewhere between Shawnee and Checotah, the man to whom I had given my heart and my word—“where you go, I will go”— reached across the front seat of our blue 1991 Pontiac Sunbird, placed his hand on my thigh, and uttered these words, “Thanks, Babe. People get divorced over stuff like this. I should have talked to you first. I love you.”

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