The Thin White Line: What divides a coach from a player?

I’m in a unique position.

And I can see it very clearly every day how unique it is.

While on staff at Yale, the coaches gather after training and talk about the session. Their hands in their pockets, looking over at the players, it’s clear they have analysis and suggestions for one another.

The players are doing partner stretching as part of their cool down after training. They’re engrossed in conversations about everything and anything and don’t even acknowledge the coaches.

I watch from the bench as a member of some sort of purgatory world that many have lived in before, seeing both at the same time.

So, I just sit there and watch. Realizing that I don’t fully fit in either group (yet or anymore).

Is this purgatory?

At Oakwood Soccer Club, I’m working with the three oldest Girls DA teams with DA Director Matt Cameron. During game day talks I listen intently as he gives the players bits and pieces before the warmup. He does a good job to give action items and a little bit of juice to get them pumped.

A few times I have caught myself nodding in agreement with him, ready to go on the pitch and do all the things he just said to the team.

“We got this,” I think to myself.

Then he looks over at me in front of the group and says, “do you have anything to add?” And I’m snapped out of the moment.

“No, I’m good.” Matt gets it. He’s the same way.

The Yale staff play in an indoor coed league. They get it.

The reality is, again, that I’m in a unique position.

I’m still a player. I will always be a player. I will always play soccer for a team or pickup or something. And this is the part I struggle with, because I don’t understand it. I always want to be a player.

A while ago, I asked social media for some help on ideas of what to write about.

One of my friends, an outspoken soccer head on Twitter, John Pranjic of the 3FOUR3 team, said, “What is something that only you can write about? Whatever that is, that’s what you should write about.”

That was the best response I received.

Throughout my life, starting at an early age, I have been told that I am different.

“You’re the 1 percent.”

“Kids are not like you.”

“You are rare.”

“People don’t like soccer that much.”

I used to like hearing this because it made me feel special. Now, I like hearing this because I realize it gives me something in my trick bag that other coaches maybe have lost or forgotten.

The unique position I am in now is this: I have been given a powerful little title like “coach” but have given myself an even more powerful title of “player”.

I realize that not every coach has played soccer. It’s just as easy to call on players, former players, to get input and help you on your journey. It’s also maybe worth it to get in a league and try to play a little soccer here and there yourself.

Otherwise, you’re just a coach. And you’re just seeing things from one point of view.

Some of the best coaches in the world, people we idolize and fawn over, were players. Do we forget that? Some played at a very high level too. Do we forget that?

And maybe, just maybe, that has been an issue in the US when it comes to coaching. People are very interested in tactics and less interested in what it feels like, what it means, what it actually IS to be a soccer player.

Last week I had a cool opportunity. I was able to coach alongside a coach I had when I was a youth player, Everald Benjamin.

Do you know what I remember about Everald? He was a player while he was coaching. I watched him play college soccer, indoor soccer and he would jump in with us and meg the crap out of us, and he would just laugh and laugh.

He loved the game. He loved it as a coach and as a player and he is still of the same mind today. You can keep that mind. It’s a choice.

I think this idea of duality could possibly create the very best coaches in the world. Pushing boundaries and forcing ourselves to contradict ourselves.

Asking ourselves questions like: Will the players like this? Do they like playing with each other? Are they sleeping enough at night? Are they stressed with school? College process? Am I overcoaching during the game? Would I want to be asked 20 times a game “What are you doing?!” What is important to them? Do they feel like they’re getting better? Do they like that position they’re playing? Are they playing scared to make a mistake because of me?

Here's something else to ask yourself:

What would it take for you to consider yourself both a coach and a player again (or for the first time)?