coaching empathy

As a sophomore, in High School, I acted as an assistant coach to the middle school. It wasn’t a pity position; I was arguably a better wrestler than the head coach. My blog centralizes around my running, but I was a four time all state wrestler and won the MVP from the state meet my senior year. In 8th grade, I started volunteering with the peewee program but my sophomore year is the true becoming of my coaching career. I don’t remember everyone on the team, or have pictures of them or anything like that. I am however, to this day, best friends with a young man from that team named Andrew Davis.

Andy was a tough kid and in 7th grade had been wrestling for a few years but didn’t even come close to the State meet the year before, in fact he might have been JV. He wasn’t super talented, but he cultivated what he had daily. At our first meet of the year, the returning state champ, a kid named Nick Gurny, is in Andy’s weight class. It was a quad meet and Andy won his first match, lost his second, and in a common fashion of large teams, was not deemed worthy of the returning state champ and was given their JV kid to wrestle. Andy lost to the JV kid pretty bad, I think he got pinned.

Afterwards, he was shaken up. Not weepy or anything, but of all of Andy’s talents toughness was the one he cultivated the most. If you have never wrestled, you will probably never know the regular battle where, unlike a race where you might be struggling against someone, in wrestling you are struggling in a very particular way to dominate someone. Or as had happened to Andy today, he was dominated…twice.

So a little wide eyed and maybe even spooked he looked up at me, with 1 win & 2 losses, and said “Brendan, do you think I will make the state meet?’

Staring at his eyes, these words immediately came out of my mouth, “Andy, you’re going to win it”

I really meant it too. It wasn’t some bone to a sad kid; it was the honesty of the moment. Years later I was to tell Marco Bertolloti something very similar the week before this 16 year old went onto win the Hispanic Games in 4:15.1. Even though most of Long Island, including the Head Coach I was working with, didn’t think he had the “footspeed” to break 4:20. It is in those moments of reassurance, not when the athlete wins or loses, that I have lived the most with them.

So, Andy goes through the next few meets, and loses to Gurney each time they face, but each time it gets a bit better. At the regional meet, Andy is in the finals against Gurney who beats him just barely 8-7. When we got to the state meet there was this electricity in the air, like somehow my future self knew all along, knew that this story and experience would be one of those that shape me profoundly. As I write this it seems so real, like it is happening right now. I can’t remember the whole day, but that match in the finals was simply awesome.

Andy and Gurney are going at it, and as the third period starts Andy chooses bottom position while losing 3-2. If he stands up and escapes he ties the match, if he reverses he wins and if he is held down or turned to his back he loses. It is a one minute period. Jumping yelling and motioning from the corner it was like I was part of him. He waited, waited with the cunning of the youth and with about 15seconds to go he hits a switch and snags two points. Screaming to hold on, Andy grinds the last moments away. To this day, from standing at Madison Square Garden as event support for the Millrose Games to winning State titles and cheering my wife on during many great races that season of coaching might have been my best… so far.