Taking it Personally

by Dan Bauer

I like to believe that my high school hockey program is as comprehensive, educational and character building as any.  My philosophy is to build young men first, hockey players second.  That is because 99.9% of the players I coach will not make their living playing hockey.  Yet for the second straight year the value of East high school hockey has proven to be inadequate.  Two players have chosen to take their hockey talents to an area AAA midget program.  In both cases there were no long discussions, no warning signs, just an impromptu meeting or phone call and good bye.  I wanted more. 

          Part of my coaching philosophy is stolen from controversial coach Bobby Knight.  Knight is not revered by many due to his often times unorthodox approach to coaching.  He goes beyond old school to methods some would label prehistoric.  But beneath his eccentric style is a coach who believes in building more than just basketball robots.  Knight believes that an athlete who plays in his program will learn more from that experience than any other class they could take at Indiana, Texas Tech or any other institution of higher learning.  Knight’s goal is to prepare his athletes for the rest of their lives.  And for the overwhelming majority of those players that will mean a job other than that of a professional basketball player.

It has always been my goal to produce a program that builds character first and foremost.  I have been told that I shouldn’t take these defections personally and that these players are moving on to bigger and better things.  When you pour your heart and soul into something and those who you are doing it for walk away, you can’t help but take it any other way than personally.  I understand it is not their intention to cause me pain, but it is a reality.  Emotion is a part of coaching and the players you spend more time with than your own kids for those four months each winter become much more than just hockey players to you.  They become surrogate sons.  When you have promised them you will help them reach their dreams and they don’t trust you, it hurts.  When you believe your program is the best there is, then there is no moving on to bigger and better things.  As a coach we expect to win—on the ice, off the ice, all the time.  Defeat never comes easy or without examination and emotion.

I do my best to understand why a young man would leave his family, friends, school and teammates.  I blame a professional sports culture that promotes and glorifies the “me first” mentality.  I blame a AAA coach who won’t bat an eyelash as he tears another teammate away from our program.  I despise their methods as they steal away players from those programs that can ill afford it.  They won’t care or notice that the fate of our junior varsity players is now on life support.  They are crafty salesmen who do and say what it takes to land a player.  I blame those “experts” from whom my players sought advice, because no program will do more for them then the program at Wausau East.  I blame Terrell Owens, Latrell Sprewell, Mike McKenzie and a host of other selfish athletes who have so miserably served as role models.  Finally, I blame myself for not doing more, not doing enough to keep those players home where they belong.  I feel regret for the parents who will one day wish they could have back the days that they are now trading away.  There is a dull pain that follows me everywhere.  No matter how I try to escape it, I can’t.

Each high school coach I talk to has another story and another athlete who has made a similar decision.  It is a slowly growing issue and if it reaches the epidemic proportions it has in Michigan, it will spell the demise of high school hockey, as we know it here in Wisconsin.  Michigan has proven that the two cannot peacefully coexist.  And so has Minnesota, where AAA programs are not allowed to function during the high school season. 

The lure of AAA midget hockey can be powerful to a fun-loving teenager.  It is an appealing scenario to a dream-chasing player who is ready to make hockey a full time job.  Lots of days off school, travel around the country, live away from the discipline & structure of home, play a few elite midget teams and still get to come back and graduate from your own high school.  What 17 year-old doesn’t fantasize about living away from home? 

But in our rush to get to the next level have we trivialized the immeasurable value, discipline and character development of the family unit?  Perhaps we have forgotten that once they leave home—they never really come back.  Or, have we in our efforts to allow them to make their own decisions, forgotten that as incredible as it might seem to them, teenagers don’t always know what is best for them? 

Over the past three seasons I have watched as one of these former players put his individual agenda aside and made sacrifices for our team that were well beyond the call of duty.  He was the consummate team player.  When another comes to me, sincerely, just weeks ago to inquire if he can come back and play, then suddenly is gone, I question just who is driving that decision.  When you apply to be captain one day and leave town the next, I am baffled.  And when you follow your friends through a magical playoff run, fighting back the emotions after each step, I can’t help but believe you wish you had been along for the ride. 

Actions always speak volumes and these are the actions of teammates whose wishes seem to have been kidnapped or at the very least propagandized.  These are young men who should be enjoying their senior year in their hometown, not mere hockey players in a strange town, at a strange school, living with strangers, playing out a string of games before empty arenas.  They say life is a series of trade-offs, but this seems like Favre for Tony Smith. 

For every Earl Woods success story of parents trying to drive their child to the top there are thousands of failed examples we never hear about.  The sidelines are littered with burnt out kids who tried to live up to their dad’s dream instead of their own.  I have been assured that this is not the case with my players, but for many young players it can be their own personal nightmare.

A new hockey season lurks beyond the cool fall evenings and the mountain we have to climb now looks steeper than we had hoped.  Like a season ago we will be told we can’t succeed without our latest fugitive.  The challenge ahead still excites me, but the bitterness and heartache of losing another hockey son pushes me one step closer to the door.  My old school values seem neither interested in trying to understand this emerging AAA mentality nor waiting for common sense to make a comeback.  They say coaches must adapt to change—I guess that takes me another step toward the door.

We will hit the ice on that Monday in November with optimism and enthusiasm.  We won’t talk about the players who aren’t there and do our best to make those that are there into a team.  Because we know, no one player makes or breaks a team.  It is a not just a belief in our lockeroom, it is a team covenant that won’t be compromised. 

As I stood in my daughter’s vacant room after dropping her off at college earlier in the day, I wondered where the summer had gone.  Seldom does a day go by when I don’t wish I could turn back the clock and have all five of my kids back home.  I pondered again, without success, the scenario in which I would send any of my kids away early.  Having now watched two go from diapers to diplomas has embedded in me the value of the precious time you have together. 

Asking me to give up that time, whether it is with my own family or one of my adopted hockey sons, is something I take personally.  And no matter what the end result, common sense tells me that that is a price I should not pay.