The Cedar Chest Tells All: Coaching Lessons Buried in Memory

It took me years to learn that my emotions toward my teams didn’t have to come from the team, the players, or the circumstances we encountered. I didn’t understand why some seasons I loved being around my teams while other years felt like sitting in front of the person on a plane banging the back of your seat for four hours. Too often, I let the problems of the players or the difficulties with parents dictate my emotions. I wasn’t mature enough to realize that I held the power to dictate my own emotions—and, in turn, the power to influence different possible outcomes. That lesson took time.

Notice I said it took me years to learn this. I already knew some seasons felt different emotionally. Some years felt good from start to finish, regardless of record. Others were emotional struggles, even when we were winning. Blending personalities on the team and staff played a part. Outside stresses did too—especially when I became a parent, the parent of teenagers, and later an Athletic Director. But looking back, what did the hard years have in common? Or, better yet, what did the good years have in common?

I had great seasons as a very young coach, reaching two Final Fours. I had a sensational mid-career season winning a state championship, and I finished my career with a phenomenal run to another state championship in year 30. And in between? Plenty of not-so-fun seasons. So wisdom and years weren’t the only factors. What was?

To answer that, I pulled out the heavy scrapbooks (those were a thing, kids) and went season by season, flipping through the cedar chest of pictures and articles.

What I found was telling: my happiest years—notice I didn’t say most successful—were with kids who gave me their best on and off the court. No disciplinary issues, no battles over passing classes. Just kids with great personalities who were fun to be around. They were selfless, cared about each other and their coaches, and showed up consistently. And here’s the kicker: even our less-talented teams somehow won more than expected, advancing deeper into the playoffs. Each of those big State seasons fell into this category as well.

On the flip side, the years that felt like no NBA salary could make it worth it? Those memories came with players who fought me or their teachers every day. Some dared us to make them learn or get better. Others faced off-the-court issues that left me frustrated, wondering if they’d even finish the season without landing in Alternative School (some didn’t). Selfishness ran high—players chasing stats instead of team success. We avoided team get-togethers because they felt more like punishments than celebrations. And, no surprise, those seasons usually ended early, with mostly ourselves to blame.

But here’s the real question: what if I had approached those difficult years differently? What if I had applied the wisdom I’ve gained since? Could I have changed the trajectory? Could I have coached differently to get them to believe and achieve?

If I hadn’t worn my emotions on my sleeve—if I hadn’t shown my worry, frustration, or doubt—maybe they would have pulled harder. What if I had rallied my emotions into an overly positive front, focusing only on basketball for an hour and a half each day, instead of the garbage around us? Would they have followed my lead? I’d like to think so. But we’ll never know.

They say hindsight is 20/20. Mine must be eagle vision—vivid and sharp. I can see clearly now that in those years my players needed me to be different emotionally. My reactionary emotions were just as much a negative factor as their issues. Looking back, I wish I had been able to disconnect from the noise and simply be a positive coach each day. Maybe that would have changed the scrapbook memories.

If you’re a coach or player today, know this: you have the power to impact your success by adjusting your emotions. Filter and manufacture the right emotions to elicit confidence and camaraderie. Don’t wear the emotions of the circumstance—display the emotions that defeat the circumstance. You’ll never regret rising above a problem, but you may regret staying stuck in one.

Winning is a state of mind. Literally—a state of the mind. Win the emotional battles, and you’ll put better memories in your cedar chest.