“They are just coaches; they aren’t real educators.”
Nothing could be further from the truth. In education, there are usually two sides: those who understand the role athletics plays in a school community and those who don't see its impact. Unfortunately, I have seen the effect this can have on coaches and their families.
I grew up a coach’s daughter. My dad held titles like Defensive Coordinator, Athletic Director, and Head Football Coach. My mother has worked in education since I was in 3rd grade. I am married to a football coach, and I am a teacher. I've been around this coaching life since the day I was born, which is why I know people rarely see everything that goes into "playing some game."
Long before the first whistle blows on Friday night, coaches have already spent countless hours preparing. Film study. Game planning. Summer workouts. Weekend scouting. Early mornings. Late nights. The four quarters everyone watches are only a fraction of the work.
My father worked for a couple different school districts throughout his 30+ year coaching span. We have been to districts where athletic support was absent, we’ve been to districts that loved what athletics did for students and the community, and we have been to districts who were flat out ignorant about athletics as a whole.
Imagine you go to work, you teach all day, then after school you stay at least 3 hours longer. On game days, especially away games, you get up at 6 in the morning and do not get home until 1 or 2 the following morning. Coaches don’t just educate what they teach and what game they play, but most importantly, they teach students about life. How to continue when something gets hard, how to be a teammate, how to act accountable for your actions, how to do what some others would think is impossible.
Those are lessons that benefit every student—and, honestly, every adult. For a career that is supposed to be “for the children,” not showing support for athletics spreads the opposite message. Teachers might not know but that boy only comes to school because of football. Without that sport, school might not feel worth showing up for. It's the reason they stay eligible. It's the reason they graduate. Do you want to know why students work so hard to pass with a 70? It’s because he wants to play more than anything. That student is a part of something bigger than himself.
And guess what, that student notices if you support him. If you simply compliment him on his performance the next Monday, that could make that boy’s day. He felt seen. But some educators only see that student as a data point.
The Cost Beyond Friday Nights
Another coach’s daughter was in the stands; she was between 6 and 9 years old. She was watching the football game and heard two grown men behind her talking badly about her dad. Probably along the lines of, “he needs to be gone,” “I don’t understand why they are keeping him,” “Why did he call that play?”
This little girl simply turned around, looked at those two grown men, and said, “That’s my daddy you are talking about.” She then just turned back around and continued watching the game. She didn't argue. She didn't cry.
She simply reminded two adults that the coach they were discussing wasn't just a name on a headset. He was someone's dad. I wish I could have seen those men's faces. And I wish I could have hugged that little girl, along with a high-five.
That story in itself should sum up what life is like for coaches’ families. It’s sad, though, that people don’t care and continue to badmouth a man for simply working hard at his job.
Before criticizing a coach, remember you're talking about someone's husband, someone's father, someone's son.
What if we went to your boss gunning for your job, claiming that you don’t know what you are doing? How would that make you feel? Imagine someone trying to convince your employer that you shouldn't have your job. Imagine your children overhearing those conversations. People often shrug and say, "Well, that's what coaches signed up for." No, they signed up to mentor kids, teach character, and coach a game they love. They didn't sign up for rumors, personal attacks, or having their families caught in the middle.
They simply love kids and love the game. Unfortunately, criticism and rumors have become an expected part of coaching. They shouldn't be—but they are.
But we simply smile, walk away, or move seats because no matter what we say or do, it won’t change their mind. Every Friday night, thousands of people fill the stands. They see four quarters.
Coaching families live every practice, every meeting, every late-night bus ride, every rumor, every hard conversation, and every sacrifice. As a coach's daughter, I watched my dad carry those burdens. As a coach's wife, I now watch my husband carry them.
Most people only see what happens under the lights. The rest of us live what the lights don't reveal.
***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!***