How Should a Coach Respond to Frequent Losses?

I recently watched Ted Lasso, season one, episode three, for the first time. Spoiler alert: it made an impression on me, so if you have never seen the show, you should consider bingeing the first three episodes before reading on.

I learned about the show last week when Judy started watching it. I walked into our living room as she finished the episode. She had a laughing glow about her, the kind of glow people have when they watch a feel-good show with a happy ending. She encouraged me to watch, “You’ll like it. It’s about soccer and positive coaching.” I’m not totally stupid—when my wife of thirty-six years, who is also a psychologist, tells me that she thinks I will like something, I try it. Days passed before I found the time to start a new series that I might be tempted to binge-watch.

My hesitation evaporated today. I watched the pilot as I ate my lunch, then chased it with episode two. At first, I was confused by Ted’s demeanor. The show was humorous, of course, but his behavior was odd. It left me wondering if Ted’s goofy behavior was intended to be funny, or was it supposed to be a natural part of his character? Three episodes in, I concluded that Ted Lasso’s character is supposed to be a seriously optimistic, positive coach. He is a charismatic extravert with a good heart who wins people over with his behavior. The first two episodes are about introducing characters and Ted’s profound optimism. Episode three is about Ted’s dedication to the idea that a team and its players should not be concerned if they win or lose but should care about how they play the game and that even at the professional level, a coach’s responsibility is to prepare players for life beyond soccer. Ted achieves that objective by helping them rediscover what is already within them so they become better people.

Like Judy, I was glowing after episode three because when I coached, I tried to teach my players more than soccer. I wish Ted Lasso had been trending twenty-five years ago when I began coaching. I doubt it would have changed my approach, but it would have given me more confidence that what I was doing was right.

I was rarely exposed to ideas like Ted’s during my coaching time. There were a few occasions when I attended soccer clinics and encountered old soccer sages who contended that recreational soccer shouldn’t emphasize winning but should be about teaching the game of soccer and mentoring. Their recommendations made enough of an impression on me that I embraced the idea of trying not to care about the outcome of a game. I followed the advice of those old soccer dogs because I knew they had years of experience and must have succeeded in coaching to achieve their positions. I also embraced what they taught because being defeated by an opponent is part of playing soccer—every game has a winner and a loser unless the contest ends in a tie. Novice coaches experience more than their share of defeats. The philosophy espoused by those soccer clinic instructors provided the only answer to self-imposed questions like, If winning is all I care about, what do I take away from a loss? What do I do if I coach a team saddled with players who don’t have the skill to defeat others in the league? How do I inspire players to return week after week if they lose every game? Those tough questions needed answers.

For me, tackling what to do after a loss was easy—keep coaching. Show up at the next practice with a positive attitude, a mountain of enthusiasm, and a list of drills that addressed the team's weaknesses. Turn the crank and keep working in preparation for the next game.

For the team, composing an answer to the question of how to inspire after a loss was more difficult because I wasn’t sure what would work. My solution was to be honest with players and set goals that could be accomplished. I made it clear that I respected hard work regardless of individual skill level, and I encouraged players to be resilient. When we lost a game, I tried to highlight positive things that occurred during the contest, like personal-best moments or mastering new skills. I emphasized that I was proud that the team kept battling when we fell behind during matches. I reminded them that nothing could be accomplished if we stopped playing, but if we kept working, there was a chance of a win, and at a minimum, we could “use the other team for practice” and improve our game. My intent was not to coerce the team with false words. I meant what I said because I wanted them to learn the reward of working to achieve an objective, improve, and consistently win. My words worked. Players returned week after week and year after year.

When we won, we celebrated. When we lost, we kept working. When we faced a familiar opponent that we knew outclassed us, we met the challenge together, took our lumps, and moved on. Adversity highlighted our weaknesses and gave us the opportunity to work together to achieve personal and shared goals. Accomplishing that took coping skills, mental toughness, effort, discipline, and teamwork.

Keeping practices fun was a challenge. Despite my vision for the team, the reality was that I was coaching children who participated because they wanted to play soccer, not learn coping skills. Consequently, I had to curb my expectations and chip away at weaknesses using fast-paced drills that players enjoyed. At times, the pace of improvement was painfully slow. However, using positive coaching and fun games to teach players was more productive than training them using rigid drills and criticism. Ultimately, players improved and seemed to enjoy practices and the challenge of games.

Winning was always my objective, but sometimes wins were elusive. Still, individual skills improved over time. Because practices were fun, players returned whatever the outcome of games. Consistent attendance and a fun environment helped us become a team. Regardless of the score, we all shared the successes of conquering physical challenges, building friendships, learning to overcome adversity, and working together.

END


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Chapter 3—Hooked for Life

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Chapter 2—First Game, First Great Moment