I never won a district game in high school. Not even close. My senior year I had a shot at heading the ball back post, thought too much, and went for the near-post. Marshall County's keeper got back to make the save at just the right time. I still lose sleep over it. My fiancé would sing the "Frozen" song to me at this point. Let it go indeed.....
Since I've been coaching, the district tournament has been pretty bipolar for me. My first season at Warren East in 2004 saw our willingly mediocre team beat Barren County in Round 1. Round 2, we were heavy underdogs to Bowling Green--the perennial state power. "Down" year or not for the Purples, we held them scoreless for 86:00. That included a goal that was taken away for being offsides (I still disagree). The looks on Bowling Green's faces spelled disbelief. Okay it might've been that way for us too ;) After losing 2-0, I was bummed but knew that my coaching career had gotten off to an explosive start.
2005 and 2006 saw my East teams succumb to bigger, faster, and less-American Warren Central squads (2006 went to overtime). My one-year stint at North Oldham in 2007 saw us flame out unnecessarily to an average Oldham County team.
Then came Franklin-Simpson; and that special week took on a whole new meaning. Upon my arrival, F-S had won the last seven district titles against the powerhouses of Russellville, Grayson County, and Muhlenberg North. While I concur that anytime you finish first in any weekly tournament it is noteworthy, but at the same time, shouldn't you yearn for more? I wanted Bowling Green and Greenwood. I wanted to build Franklin into a regional contender. Those surrounding me (sometimes literally) scoffed at the thought. Imagine the response when I asked if they were afraid of the two-headed monster up I-65 ;)
I kept the cheaply put together Ferrari running during the 2008-2009 district tournaments . But I didn't enjoy them. Even in the face of winning, the boys were still drama queens and their parents chose to look at the negatives. 2009 was the last ride of that Ferrari before the wheels fell off in 2010.
In the 2010 district tournament, after a season of tumult, threats, and attrition, I paced the sideline and pondered my future in a 7-0 loss to Muhlenberg County. I quit on a group of kids that deserved to have someone quit on them. I was 50% sure that I'd never coach again and 100% sure that I was okay with it being over.
In 2012, a group of kids at my current school told me it wasn't over. I bought in, they bought in, and that special week in October took on a whole new meaning: redemption, triumph, and resilience. Those boys beat our rival PRP 1-0 in the game that I always envisioned myself coaching. Bleachers rocking, packed, both sides yelling back and forth at one another. It was nirvana for this coaching Buddhist. 2013 saw a return to the title game, only to give up two late goals in a 2-1 loss to PRP. Next week can be the rubber match.
Back when I was a kid, I can remember hearing early 90's pop on the radio late at night while riding in the car with my parents coming back from their significant others houses. It was always so quiet while hearing Paula Abdul or Whitney Houston's voices make up for the silence. Now I tend to have flashbacks to those times while I drive myself down Frankfort or Preston at night. Those drives become "how did I get here". And then the question does hit me: how did I get back here, and how did I assume such a not important but meaningful position.
If we win the district tournament next week, it will be a bigger accomplishment than any of the other three (2009 at Franklin did have a certain in-your-face factor going for it). My kids are pretty close to the poverty line. Food stamps, tramp stamps, and unemployment checks constantly wander through these kids thoughts more than winning any kind of trophy. As I write this, the more and more I believe they deserve this.
Next week will be a battle for us. If we're successful, I won't just be a coach. I'll be a leader of overachievers, underdogs for a community that hasn't seen a lot of that. I'll never know the "why me" when I drive down Preston or Frankfort at night, but we will know what came of that little boy that was always riding in his parents passenger seat twenty-five years ago.
I chose to let go of all the Franklin drama but this year has been a reminder that you never forget--especially next week.
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