The red and white stripes of his jersey seem to fly off as he sprints right by me. His black number 8 glows vividly, though, as I turn to watch him weave from side to side to set up and release his enormously powerful shot. He shoots; he scores. “GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOAAAAAAALLLL! Ole! Ole! Ole! Ole! Ole! ” I already know the rhythmic mantra too well as the opposing under-fifteen national team from Mexico dissolves my small under-sixteen team from south Florida. Returning to the Kellogg’s National Tournament for a third straight year, we go into the matches thinking we can win, but our foes dissipate our victorious thoughts into a nine-goal loss. I was thirteen years old and breathed soccer.
My coach, George Sas vari, had not only inhaled the game for his entire life of forty years, but he knew all the exchanges of oxygen, blood, and sweat as he lectured us about strategies. In the middle of our second game, he pulled me, the team captain and best defender, because I deserted his strategy. The team from Texas conquered the tournament last year like a wild fire, burning up everything in its path. So Coach opted to start the game with no attackers-no offense. I resolved the issue by pushing up the defense and trying to attack, overlooking the fact that Coach told me to remain back and annoy them for the first sixty minutes of our eighty minute game.
Three goals in two minutes and then, I understood just how good this team was. Coach took me out and sat me next to him. For ten minutes, he said nothing. I tried to begin a discourse but he ignored me.
The Essay on Boone And Yost Team Coach Players
1) Boone and Yost were supportive by establishing good relations with subordinates. They used the participative style where they allow the team to participate in decisions, both coaches were achievements-oriented where they sets challenging goals and seeks improvements in performance. Boone and Yost inspired the team to find solutions to the problems they are facing, because finding solutions is a ...
“Coach I am sorry… what is happening to us… Nice try Scotty [our goalkeeper]… Put me back in, Coach… .” The insomniac silence dragged on and on as the minutes became too similar to one another.
He had ignored me long enough when put me to sleep by his demanding, “[do you] know the reason why [you ” re] sitting on the bench?” I responded that I did not think out on the field; I let my competitiveness get the best of me and it led me astray. He calmly iced me, “No, you did not follow your instructions and as captain and leader of this team, you can’t do that. You made the choice, now correct it.” He sent me back into the game and I did not say another adverse word to him throughout his tenure as my Coach. By the third game, we knew that we could not advance, but we played for pride-we had to earn a spot in the field and we had no desire to leave as the deer surrounded by wolves. Coach had another novel tactic when he put the defense on offense and vice versa. Puzzled by his thoughts, I asked him, as our team warmed up, about the reasons he chose to switch the offense and the defense.
Casually, he responded, “our opponent will now be better talented and skilled at offense and defense, but we will have to think our way out of the problem.” Thus, I learned that Coach knew exactly what he wanted to accomplish. It had nothing to do with winning despite the parents’ “winning is everything” mentality; he wanted to teach us how smart we had to be to win games as every team had about the same talent once one reaches a certain level.
