Athletic coaches are servants, just like teachers are

My favorite pro football coach is Mark Parsons of the Portland Thorns.

Okay, it helps that I know the guy personally - he was my school's varsity soccer coach for about three years a decade ago, and I called his team's games on internet audio.  He moved on to coach professional soccer, has been with Portland for six years, and will become the coach of the Dutch national team at season's end.  I root hard for the Thorns, initially because of Mark's involvement - but now because I've grown to love the authenticity of the Thorns players, as well as the positive and inclusive Portland supporters' culture.

But why do I call Mark my favorite pro coach?  Well, he's good, as evidenced by his tremendous success over his years in the professional ranks.  More importantly, though, he understands the coach's role as a servant leader.  

I've been watching sports fanatically, quasi-religiously, even, for 40-odd years.  I've always believed that the game belongs to the players.  Coaches, umpires, broadcasters, and fans are ancillary.  I hate the "cult of the coach," in which the media portray coaches as godlike beings whose every move constitutes brilliant strategy.  This cult is worst in college basketball, where a player who gets a technical foul in the heat of the moment is said to require discipline for letting down their teammates; however, a coach who gets a technical is invariably trying to fire up his team in a calculated manner.  Spare me.

Somehow, we as a national culture have developed this deep-seeded idea that "leadership" from a coach must be egotistical and domineering.  That the success of a team is always due to - never in spite of - the quality of the coach.  Just look up the highest-paid government employee in each of the United States - in virtually every case, it's the state university's football or basketball coach.  

This cult makes me extra angry when I consider how physics teachers are treated.  Like coaches, we're judged negatively when our students don't do well.  But when we have outsized success on the AP exam, we're told "well, that's because you had the best students, no wonder they did well."  

Wait just a doggone second.  Firstly, why the eff do you think Nick Saban* is so successful?  He gets to pick only the best of the best high school athletes to play on his team.  A player who isn't doing well gets cut and replaced, with no consequence to Nick.  (Big consequences to the player, though, who loses his scholarship and has to go through significant bureaucratic hurdles to get permission to play for a different team.)  When Nick tried coaching in the NFL, which has a strong players' union and serious competition for players, Nick failed miserably, walking out on his team before season's end.  

*Head coach of University of Alabama gridiron football, $9.3 million annual salary for him, $0 average annual salary for his players

Yes, I have some students with serious natural talent in my class.  These folks need me.  They need the careful structure in the class that results in productive skill building.  They need me to help them bust misconceptions, or (better yet) to start them down the correct path in which they don't develop those misconceptions in the first place.  They need me to create a supportive class culture in which these talented students develop their confidence and understanding by helping their classmates.  Learning physics can be isolating and frustrating on one's own, even for the 800-SAT-math set.  These folks deeply appreciate a dedicated, skilled teacher.

And, unlike major college coaches, I have some students without top-level natural talent.  It's my job to work with these folks, too, to help them get better every day.  They might end up with 3s and 4s, not 5s, but without the careful course structure and supportive culture, they'd get 1s.  I am not allowed to ignore, bench, or cut these students.  They might not provide me personal glory for their top scores, but nevertheless I am charged to work carefully and diligently with them.  I am - and should be! - judged as much by how much these folks improve as by how well the natural-talent set perform.

In other words, I'm called to support all my students, to serve their needs, to meet them where they are to make them better.  Just like a coach should be.

In an interview last week, Mark Parsons explicitly articulated his calling to support his players.  Not to lead them, not to dictate strategy, but to - his word - "support" their development.  Mark praises his established superstars like Crystal Dunn and Lindsey Horan, but he also praises his top draft picks like Sophia Smith, and even the folks who don't start every game.   

When have you ever heard a coach speak of themselves as a servant, as a supporter for the players?  Sure, I have no doubt that a few prominent coaches do feel this way, but when have they ever articulated this approach publicly?  More often, the closest we hear is humblebrags about their tactical genius, or praise of a specific player after a win.

Mark's support-centered leadership is contagious, too.  Longtime player Meghan Klingenberg is a World Cup champion.  When she is asked about her role on the Thorns, she talks about her goal of making connections with her teammates, of supporting them, so that if they do ever end up having to have a tough conversation, all involved know that their words come from a place of love.  You ever hear a wide receiver or a first baseman talk like this?  No? Well, there's one big reason I love the Thorns.

An AP physics teacher is in the business of student development; results on the AP exam come from helping students get better every day.  Mark Parsons is that rare coach who recognizes that results on the field likewise come from helping players get better every day.  Regarding his philosophy coaching the youngest-ever American professional soccer player:  "The development path, we all think it's like this [mimes a line with positive slope], but we all know it's more like this [up-and-down motion whose trendline has a positive slope].  We are going to stay out of her way when she's doing great; and we'll catch her when she's doing not so great, to make sure she knows that we believe in her."

Would you rather be on a team with Parsons and Klingenberg?  Or with the domineering men who tend to coach in the mainstream American sports?  

Knowing the answer, I consciously emulate the rare coaches and player-leaders who carefully cultivate a positive team culture.  My students are on my team.  I stay out of their way when they're doing great, and I catch them when they're doing not so great, to make sure they know that I believe in them.