Dad's lesson that keeps paying off

My first year coaching the middle school boys soccer team was an awakening. More than 40 students, all seventh and eighth graders, were trying out, and I only wanted to carry 15. The year was 1979, and besides being my first year of coaching, it was my first year of teaching at West Hempstead Middle School. Mistakes, a lot of mistakes were made — by me.

One major mistake was cutting a student whose father, I later found out, was the school district’s superintendent. I guessed teaching wouldn’t be in my playbook for long. The lad’s mother, though, met with me and said she understood why I cut him, and I was sending her son a good message. We finished the 11-game season with 10 losses. Learning was not only taking place in the classroom but on the playing field, too.

After three years as coach, our team reversed its record and finished with 10 wins and one loss.

I left teaching in 1983 but never lost my passion for soccer and coaching. I played a little bit in high school. Then, in college, too, much to the chagrin of my father, who said, “I am paying for you to get you an education, not play games.” My father couldn’t stand the sport. I had begged him to come to a game when I was playing in high school just to see what it was all about. A golf and baseball enthusiast, he finally showed up, and it is a day I will never forget.

After a few minutes of watching me, he was running up and down the sideline cheering me. I couldn’t focus on the game — I was watching my dad. He was overweight and a smoker. I thought for sure an ambulance would be on the field by halftime. I told him he didn’t have to show up to any more games.

Believe it or not, it was my father’s drama that day that taught me one of my best lessons for the players. What I learned that day carried over to all the teams I’ve coached through the years and now, too, as I coach the boys team of St. Agnes Cathedral School in Rockville Centre. My dad’s yelling, giving advice and running along the sideline distracted me, and I wasn’t listening to my coach.

I let the boys know before every season’s first game that I’m the dumbest person they’ve ever met, but I know a bit about soccer. I tell them, “I really want you to listen to me when you are in the game.”

I would also say, though, “If your parents start yelling and giving you advice and directions, you have to respect what they say. They are your parents, and you must listen to your parents.” But I also let the boys know that if their parents continued yelling and distracting them, I would take them off the playing field so their parents could give them firsthand instruction. The kids got it. The parents definitely got it. And now all we have is cheering and happiness on the sideline.

Our team just completed the season, winning all 10 games. The record doesn’t matter, but helping shape great kids does.

After 17 years of coaching the STAGS soccer team, we ended each season with terrific kids, wonderful parents, and a reputation that every team we competed against knew we were passionate about the game.

Most of all, whether we win or lose, we are good sports. Our players shake off a loss and use it as a lesson for the next game. If one opposing player is outstanding, we make sure we compliment him. I’ve been getting my kicks out of soccer for more than 50 years, and I’m pleased to have passed along my passion to so many young players.

 Reader Pat Mullooly lives in Garden City.