Last year, I had one of those teams. One of those teams where a coach looks back and says “wow, what a special group.” For 3 years, I knew they were a special group. Every day, I knew they were a special group. Every interaction was nostalgic almost immediately. Yes, I am also the kind of person who can’t appreciate things because I’m in retrospect while it’s happening. Yeah, I don’t know if that makes sense either.

But this team… let me tell you about this team.

In November of 2022, I started with a group of 2007 girls in Connecticut. My home state. The place that I want to coach. The place I want to live. The place where I want to give everything I have to the players that deserve it. The place where I belong.

So, this team. Man. 

I got them when I was still healing. They got me when they were still healing. A mutually beneficial union that could have been written in the stars. I was still grieving the loss of my grandmother. They were still coming out of Covid and much worse, grieving the loss of a teammate. 

Over the years I listened as they talked about Gia. I watched as they celebrated her birthday each season. They had her jersey number on their bags. Gia’s grandfather stayed on as my manager for three years. She was always there with us, a player I had never met but impacted me in a way she will never know. 

The parents were very close for a parent group. There was no jealousy or competition. They welcomed new parents and players as if they were part of the team for years. They welcomed me as if I was too. They were so, so great to me. A balance between parents and my friends. I don’t have a single complaint about the parents. I wonder how many coaches can say that.

Before this team, I was mostly in professional environments and even in clubs previously, they were more serious… stuffy almost. I was stuffy as a coach. I was so serious. Everything was so serious. I wasn’t even like that as a player, so I don’t know how I became that way. The playing style everyone was coaching felt like it had to be perfect. I didn’t really feel myself. 

But this group… this team. Man. They needed me. I felt it. I definitely needed them. But they needed me. It brings me to tears every time I write it. And I’ve written this so many times already. I’ve never wanted to be so good for a group. 

I wanted to know everything about them and over the years they told me. Their parents told me. I knew when someone’s grandmother was sick, when someone had a breathing problem, when a player’s parents were getting divorced, when one had some problems at home, when a player’s boyfriend broke up with them. In the last few years, I’ve become this person that people can go to. Players, parents. I have learned the most important thing about myself: I was made for this. I can carry my stuff and all their stuff. I can coach and love the shit out of everyone. 
I can help to create a place that is safe. Where they want to be. That is their own. When they have a rough day at school. Or when their house burns down. Or when their friend dies by suicide. They still want to be at soccer practice. I honestly don’t think there is a bigger compliment in the world than that. Like, that is our first and main priority. We need to create a space for them to always want to be. A place they can feel home. Even when life feels impossible. 

There are always special teams. Not that some are not special. All are unique in their own way. But some teams, like this one, have an asterisk. Because they have a metaphorical sparkle. A star. Something that is hard to put your finger on. Though I’m really trying here. 

They made coaching so fun. It was their team that they let me be a part of. It was our wins and our losses. They never blamed anyone else. Not the ref. Not me. Not their parents. Just took it on themselves to be accountable. I felt ownership in everything we did. From training, to meetings, to cleaning up, to setting up and uniform choices, to warming up, they did it all. They were and are SO capable and so impressive. 

They weren’t perfect. Sometimes they weren’t in the mood to train or they didn’t prepare well for a game. Maybe they missed a meeting or an assignment. They knew it was on them. 

And me? I made mistakes. I left names off of sessions. Didn’t have a rotation for a passing pattern. I didn’t keep time or start the VEO. I apologized. Admitted mistakes. And I got better. We all did. For 3 years. 

Everyone in my life knows I’m overly sensitive about the 2007s. The reasons above are the mushy ones that make me cry like a baby. But the other stuff is the stuff that always brings a huge smile to my face.

They loved playing together so much and they did it so beautifully. They ignited a passion in me that I didn’t even know was still there. No one loves soccer as much as me. But this took it to a whole new level. They were so open to learning and different ways of playing. They loved dummies, nutmegs, 1-2s and dribble fests and beautiful build up goals and tackles and big saves. They celebrated all the little stuff all the time. Their communication on the field was subtle and at another level. I could feel that they were in a flow not just individually, but together. A flow state together. Playing together.

They loved a warmup rondo and ABC juggling. I would watch them from the bench as they smiled and laughed and thought to myself why would I take them out of this. Seeing people genuinely laugh and smile, why stop it? They would laugh so hard they cried. I would just be sitting there, watching the clock hit 4:45 pm when training started at 4:30 pm and just let them keep going. They felt safe. They were having fun. And they just loved being around each other.

It’s funny because we didn’t always win. But they were proud of how we played and that they played the game together. There were no cliques. No bullshit. Just love. There was a kindness in the group that was felt on the field. It wasn’t typical. We had a player score her first goal for the team this season and you would have thought we won the World Cup. 

I believe I can now teach a course on how to help people create these types of environments. I’m not perfect or this master coach or anything. But there are some very basic things that coaches just don’t do. Some things that I learned from all of my years playing and coaching with good coaches and bad coaches. And then with this group to help me bring it home. 

Observe the group. Awareness of team dynamics. Ability to act on what you see. Listen. Respect the players and their understanding of the game, their team, their club, their abilities. Involve the parents. Stop being a know-it-all. Don’t let players speak to each other poorly. Don’t allow toxic players to ruin your environment. 

You can be a great coach and lead with love instead of fear. You really can. You can be a great coach and talk to your players- not ignore the ones who you might not play as much or who you don’t think are as good. You don’t have to be so awkward. You don’t have to yell. You don’t have to be right all the time. You don’t have to have all the answers. You don’t have to coach like you’re in the military. You’re not going to war - you’re going to a soccer game. 

This team taught me so much. But most of all that love is the only answer. Love each other. Love the game. Show your players that you love the game. Show them that you love them. Help them learn to love each other. Let your passion for their success show. Build them up. They get knocked down enough. This world is harsh. Make a space that is theirs. It’s not yours. Get over yourself and give the game back to the players. 

Thank you 2007s - I love you guys. You’re the best. I am so proud of you. I am so proud to have coached you. I can’t thank you enough for what you have done for me and what you will do for countless players I have the privilege to interact with in the future. 

I can’t wait until you’re back for pickup :)