Credibility

Authority is a power that is that is granted by society to certain persons and institutions to create a platform for messaging and to maintain control. However, in this scenario it is often the case where deference to the messenger hides the illogical nature of the message. This skewed hierarchy supports an environment in which blind obedience is required and rewarded while free thinking and questioning is punished. When I was growing up the prevailing view was that, “One must always respect their elders”. Certain people such as, teachers, coaches, the police and my parents relied on disparity of age and title to be the keepers of discipline and the formers of opinion. I was not to question but to simply follow their instructions. Like others of my age group I did follow the plan laid out by my elders albeit begrudgingly. I never understood how reaching a particular age could produce wisdom but fighting against it, as I too often discovered, created consequences. But as I did the bidding of my elders I also noticed that in some cases they abused their authority. These supposed mentors of mine were in fact human and they were not immune to inconsistent and flawed behaviors. In these moments, I remember thinking that, if and when I was in a position of power, I would most definitely behave differently. I would not push an agenda based on my age and position but one driven by experiential credibility.

The idea that age and title creates wisdom to be followed is extremely prevalent in the arena of sports. People given the title of coach become the dictator and the players are required to respond to each and every one of their commands without hesitation. My athletic history was indicative of this reality. My early soccer coaches were fathers of other players, teachers filling a need, and in one case a football coach trying to earn some extra money. Because they had a limited understanding of the game they were tasked to understand and teach, they masked their lack of knowledge with discipline and physical hardship. They created practices filled will physically taxing drills designed to produce toughness instead of skill. This allowed for them to orchestrate winning through brute force rather than innovative strategies which they were incapable of producing or teaching. I had always taken great pride in being the toughest kid so I was able to rise to the top of this arbitrary heap. Consequently, my coaches loved me and heralded me as a great player. I in turn believed them because after all who doesn’t want to believe they are great.

In my junior year in high school I was a member of the varsity soccer team. The school had hired a new coach who came with very impressive credentials. He was a former professional soccer player who was simultaneously coaching the varsity team of a local university. His first evaluation of my play was a very sobering experience for me. He conveyed to me that while he admired my energy it was clear to him that I knew very little about the game of soccer. This was a tremendous blow to my ego and I instantly vilified him and disregarded his assessment. However, his consistent instruction supported by the advice of his friends, who were all current and former professional soccer players, forced me to accept the cold realization that he was absolutely correct in his initial critique of my soccer acumen. I embraced his earlier view of my performance and began to work on learning the game. Over the course of the next two years he was able to infuse soccer strategy and situational play into my aggressive nature. In the end, I was an all league player on a championship team. The only difference between where my journey started and where it ended was coaching. I finally had a real soccer coach who earned my respect, not because of age or title but because of credibility.

Twenty years later I was coaching a young girls’ soccer team. I was determined to teach them the real game; the game I had finally learned from my first credible coach. I was not going to be influenced by perception of others who could only judge progress in terms of wins and losses. In one of our very first games, we played a team that constantly kicked the ball out of bounds to avoid pressure induced mistakes. They engaged in this strategy at the demand of their coach to win the game which the they did by a score of 2-1. I was walking off the field toward the parking lot, not the least bit discouraged by the defeat, when one of the girl’s fathers approached me with a question. He wanted to know why we didn’t just kick the ball out of bounds like the other team to avoid mistakes. I turned to him and matter-of-factly said that kicking the ball out of bounds to avoid mistakes was not soccer and I was not going to teach the girls the wrong way to play to win a youth soccer game. As I drove away I remembered the promise I had made to myself as a young boy to behave differently when I was older; to not rely on my title or age to demand respect from those younger than me or in my charge but instead to earn their respect by teaching from a place of informed experience and consistent actions. I smiled to myself. I had credibility. I was a real coach.