I found myself at the end of this season, sitting in the stadium I had called home for 8 years, but wearing the visitors’ colors. And as I cheered for my team in one of the biggest games to date for my husband as head coach, a couple of groups of home fans sat behind me, making fun of me.
I held my tongue for as long as I could, but eventually I had to protest the calls, or the lack of calls in this case, that the refs were making. These fans accused me of not watching the game enough to know “that’s just how it’s played.”
“Calm down. It’s just a game.” That is what is seared into my memory, just before my father-in-law had to quiet me so as not to feed their idiotic attacks.
And with some reflection with a clear mind (many weeks later), I realized that they can say something like that and believe it. But that’s because there are so many things they don’t see.
For starters, I wasn’t protesting because I thought a call would lead to a win. The only outcome I was focused on was the health and well-being of our boys. It was getting dirty, and without the refs stepping in to keep it fair and clean, I was worried that one, maybe even more, wouldn’t have been able to walk off that field on their own accord when the clock hit zero. But they didn’t see the boys. They just saw numbers on a jersey.
I was thinking about all the time taken off from work by their parents, the hours of travel put in over the season, and the season before that, and the one before that. Not to mention all the years in the youth sports world to get them to college athletics. Just so they could get a few moments with their kids after the game. But they didn’t see the parents. They just saw overly excited fans.
I was picturing all the hours these boys put in for practice, film, conditioning, recovery, and extra reps, on top of everything else that a college student has to deal with. But they didn’t see all those hours. They just saw the 60 minutes on the clock.
I was replaying the nights of lost sleep, all the after-hours phone calls, and countless film watched by my husband and the other coaches, as they tried to figure out how to fix what wasn’t clicking. But they didn’t see all that preparation. They just saw the khakis and the clipboards.
And I can’t even begin to explain how this is our livelihood. How, not only every waking minute of that season was spent preparing for this exact moment, but actually every waking moment for the last 7 years after we left so my husband could build his own program, had been building up to that game. But they didn’t see our history. They just saw a girl who didn’t know what she was talking about.
I’ve been in the coaching world for 22 years now, so I know that most people will never understand all that it takes unless you’ve lived it or love someone who has. So, you say, “It’s just a game.” And I say, “There are a lot of things that you don’t see.”
But, in the end, we will just have to agree to disagree.
This space is about supporting the women behind the sidelines. We’ve created a few favorite wear-on-repeat pieces inspired by this life, just in case you want to check them out!