The sad truth about competitive sports is that unless you find yourself at the state tournament flying a championship banner, every team's season ends in a lost game. It finishes with young men hanging their heads, seniors in tears at the end of their athletic careers (for many), fans hugging with equal parts pride and sadness, and coach wishing he had more time...
More time to even out the score. More time to work on technique and plays. More time to spend with the young men who give so much meaning to the game.
This is the part of every coaching season that I dread.
And I mean dread.
Because I cannot change it. The season ending is inevitable. And so is the void that coach feels for many weeks following. He does not mourn over the score of the final game or season record. He simply recognizes how much he will miss it....how much he will miss them. Because for any coach, but especially for my coach, that is the hardest part; the separation from the players. And no matter how much I pray and wish it away, the season will end, the kids will leave, many will lose touch and it all just fades away. The hours spent prepping and preparing will be free, the pacing from the living room to the bedroom and back again will be pointless, the late night calls to other coaches, frustrated players and involved parents will cease, and that steady cadence of practices and games will halt.
Regardless of how proud I am of coach and his team, and how much I believe they should be proud of themselves, this is an ending. And most endings are sad because you find yourself missing something or someone. And missing someone that much...that deep...is one of the truest forms of love and care.
For that reason, I'm just going to let my coach feel that heaviness for a while. Because regardless of how sad it is, it is also so sweet.
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