#2 The Art of Vulnerability - A Coach's Dilemma

"Comparison is the thief of joy."

As I write this blog, I have this quote at eye level on the calendar on my wall. I have it there to remind me of the consequences of the different compulsions I feel during the day. By no means have I mastered controlling these moments, it is a constant battle within, but it also serves as a stark reminder that there is a long way to go in the turbulent journey of life.

In the 10 years I have been setting cones out on fields, playgrounds and AstroTurf pitches, I could tell you all about the different practices I have delivered, the funny moments that players and coaches have provided, and the interesting environments that I have been fortunate enough to have stepped into. I could tell you of the players that have signed for academy sides and of crazy encounters with opposition coaches and parents. But today I want to tell you more about the unspoken side of the world of teaching/coaching, the moments where you don't feel good enough, the art of vulnerability.

I understand that social media is a platform of showcasing the best version of self. I am guilty of this too; sending in a pretty and well designed session plan into #SundayShare with the hope it gets some likes, I am honest enough to admit that. If anything it goes completely against what I am going to ramble on about, but no one needs to know that. Seeing a post do well and seeing the positive comments underneath a post is a great feeling. A feeling that I have noticed coaches don't receive anywhere near as often as they should.

For as long as I can remember, I have been a worrier. Often at low levels, but there is always a buzz of anxiety simmering throughout my day to day life. Whether I have taken everything with me for the day, various health anxieties since my surgery earlier in the year, getting this sinking feeling in my stomach if I feel I am running late, rehearsing conversations about scenarios that haven't happened, whether that person is still mad at me after a throwaway comment 3 years ago, regrets of moments I should've done more or done better. This has been something that seeps into my professional life. Looking back at this blog as I proof read, it is almost a match made in heaven to put a worrier in the world of being responsible for the development and safety of someone else's children... you can't make this up!

This worrying feeling comes from a place of longing to feel good enough. I wouldn't have admitted this five or six years ago, but a few long looks in the mirror have led me to realise that this underpins a lot in my life. The problem I have is that I long to feel good enough but I fret about actions that would lead me closer to fulfilling that ambition, leading to these positive steps not being taken. It often goes in cycles and only hurts me in the long run. I think that is why I am so diligent in my professional life, longing for appreciation in an industry that doesn't offer it for free. I won't bore you with my woes, this hopefully sets the scene of why I am writing this blog.

Coaches take on a thankless role. We spend hours and hours putting together the pieces for a 90 minute session to take place. We spend, almost too long at times, debating which practices will best suit our players, which learning objectives that each player should be working towards, how we will use the time allocated to maximise the session to make it both worth the time the parents and players are spending to get to and from the venue, as well as making the session worth the session fee, as well as making sure this session is suitable for the age and stage of the players, as well as linking to what we delivered on Monday, as well as how it can support the next coach who takes over to progress on the work you have done, as well as how the session links to the next game, as well as ensuring that you make enough time to be supportive of players and their own situations, as well as managing expectations of players who don't want to be subbed or play in defence, as well as managing parent's expectations of their player through rose tinted glasses, as well as dealing with the ongoing battle of winning vs development and the friction that causes, as well as sending out fixture information and finding extra players when people at the last minute don't let you know they are going on holiday, as well as having the exact same thought processes when your second group of the night arrives on the AstroTurf ready for their session just as you dismiss your first group,  as well as... you get the point. All of this (and much more I might add) is what goes on that many outside of the industry don't realise. 

I love my job, it often doesn't feel like a job, I get to see my mates every day and talk football, as well as make lots of new "little mates" for an hour at a time each week. I am so grateful for the opportunity to travel the world and coach a wide variety of people as well as connect in ways I never imagined when I stumbled upon my FA Level 1 when I was 16. With all these moments of gratitude and reflection, it doesn't change how I feel under the hood, so to speak. 

I see coaches on X all the time, going on these wonderful adventures and taking on these huge job roles. I see the comments and adulation they receive, and I love to see it. There is a part of me that, as much as it contradicts my beliefs, makes me quite jealous. I have learned the quote that titles this blog and I highlight it as a stark reminder for my life. I am not on their path, I am doing the best I can with what I have and what I am capable of in this moment. I don't need to judge myself compared to the coach who has taken on a first team role before they turn 30. The game is the game, I long to feel good enough, so why can't I feel good enough with what I am currently doing? Maybe that is what makes me work harder and try and do better. Much to the detriment of my personal relationships. 

Football strikes a serious dilemma for those who dedicate every waking moment to developing themselves as coaches. You find yourself in a constant battle to improve and inspire your players, whilst dealing with the politics and differing motivations of the individual pieces to the jigsaw that makes up your squads, as well as the creators of those jigsaw pieces (we will get to parents one day). 

I find that coaches are often the most under appreciated part of the football industry, especially in youth football, and they are often the ones that are taken for granted (unless you are the 0.01% who win huge trophies or are clever enough to appear on Sky Sports every week). The amount of times I have overheard conversations from parents saying their coach is "not good enough", "too inexperienced", "doesn't care", and so on, without any real justification or evidence backing their words. These are hurtful to those who give a damn about what they do, and are incredibly dismissive to the hundred good things the coach has done for their child. Often there is no smoke without fire, granted. There is a difference between someone not having the knowledge, or the knowledge of transferring knowledge, and someone who doesn't care. If you are putting yourself out there to be shot at by external factors such as parents, you must have an inkling of effort and care for what you are doing. Your motivation and emotional state might differ day to day, but I have always refused to accept hearing the feedback of "they don't care" when I've overheard these conversations. Call me a shit coach, call me a lanky blonde so and so, call me what you want. But don't ever for one moment question my commitment to the cause. Phew. Therapy session over.

As with each post I upload, I hope this encourages self reflection, or discussion of some kind. My vulnerability in writing about my flaws isn't a means to gain likes, it is to show that it is okay to talk about how you feel. I have spent much of my teenage and adult life feeling embarrassed to share what I am feeling. It is no one's fault, I grew up in a very loving environment who taught me to be open and honest about who I am and what I feel. But I kept hoarding these emotions until they came out in firework style explosions. I have learned to respect myself enough to share how I feel and how I can improve. Both as a coach and within day to day life, again, I'm still figuring the latter out.

As coaches, we need to celebrate our own mini successes, as well as not letting jealousy and bitterness overcome us when we see other's successes. We are all in the same boat, rowing towards the same island. Whether some of us want to take the speedboat of badge collecting whilst blindfolded to the experiences that could pass you by, or some of us prefer to stop and admire the view from the pedal boat in the middle of the metaphorical ocean. At times I feel like the water is beginning to seep into my boat, or that I am swimming in circles whilst the fancy party yachts steam past me. We just need to remember that stopping once in a whilst to see the stars, to feel the sea breeze, and to notice how far you have come in your coaching journey will make you realise that you are doing an excellent job. You are changing the lives of the next generation, you are sacrificing your own personal gains for the greater good of those who will inherit the game we love and loathe (at times) and take it further than we ever could. 

Coaches are on the same team, and shouldn't feel they are different or above one another. I believe that developing a vulnerability about what you deliver, and how you feel about your delivery can hugely benefit your own self esteem, as well as have a knock on effect on those within your sessions. We all have bad sessions, we all don't get that job we wanted or that qualification we applied for, we all think how good it would be to have been a part of a Champions League winning side. It is just about remembering that we are all on our own path, some of us are just stopping to admire the view for a bit longer.

If you enjoyed my therapy session, and would like me to write more of these, please get in touch with me on the following platforms:

X - @ReadyBilly

LinkedIn - Billy Ready

I am more than happy to receive feedback and questions surrounding what I have written about.

Enjoy your next session,

Billy.