I know I’m old but I guess I’m also old school. I can’t get excited when one of my teams, like the JETS, win a game – not because they excelled on the field but because the schedule finally put them up against a team that underachieved just a little more than they did. I want to see the best of the sport when I watch or coach a game. I want to see the beauty of the sport, when everything is in sync, the player’s skills complement each other and the coordination of that effort leads to well-executed plays. I want to see players playing for each other not for the headline. I also want to see the struggle, the resiliency and determination of the players. I want to see the best of their souls on display in the competition. That’s where sports and real life intersect. It’s the experience of that constant struggle and recovery that can impact how we live the rest of our lives – off the field or court.

Naturally I want the score of the contest to end up in my team’s favor. But I’ve been involved in many games, as a player or a coach when the play was amazing, when players found a flow and saw a glimpse of what can happen when it all comes together. Some of those games went in the win column, some didn’t. All of them are part of what makes me want to find it again. As we all know it’s not easy to recreate. That feeling is elusive, but it’s out there waiting for us to go for it.

There has never been a perfect game but we strive for it anyway – it’s the pursuit of the high level of performance that drives me. That means I’m always looking at what I, or if I’m coaching, we can do better. When you consistently look for what’s next, when what you just did isn’t good enough, you risk being perceived as negative. The challenge is to recognize the positive while acknowledging the space for improvement. On most occasions I can do that but sometimes I fall short. It’s something I work on.

Coaches and players work together to set standards for performance. You play to the standards, not the score. If you play to your standards, performing to the best of your abilities, you’ve done your best – regardless of the score. That means you can lose while playing your best. And conversely, you can win and play poorly. The measure of a team’s performance should be related to the standards they set for themselves. Those standards should stretch us to be better tomorrow than we are today. The stretch creates tension. Dealing with that tension involves making a choice. We can relieve the tension by holding the bar high on expectations and working to close the gap between where we are and where we want to be. The alternative choice is to lower the bar and relieve the tension by making it easier. The coach’s job is to hold the bar high. Obviously the payoffs are greater when you do. Sometimes the cost of holding the bar high is player push back. Nobody likes to be pushed out from their comfort zone. Players may not like it, or you, when you push. That’s the cost of commitment – to your players and your program. If, as a coach, you are reluctant to push your players to excel you are not likely to succeed.

Some people say that you have to coach kids differently these days. They say millennials, and whatever we call the next generation, can’t handle the direct feedback coaches offer. I get the millennial thing. I hire them, train them and work with them. To do my job I have to understand not only their generation but the generation that preceded them and the one that follows. Like a lot of companies, we have to figure out how to take three generations employed in one workplace and get them to work together. I have to learn what makes people tick and how to work best with them. I know millennials and the current generation are different, just like my generation was different. All that being said I don’t think we do them or anyone any favors when we lower the bar to spare their feelings. And – I don’t think that’s what they want. They want to be recognized, they want to contribute. Sounds like a lot of other generations.

I define winning and losing differently than some and I know that Bill Parcells says “you are what your record says you are”. That is certainly true on the professional level where you are paid to play and win. It doesn’t hold up for kids playing at the middle school and high school level. I know, having watched many of them compete and grow, that a lot of those players are more than what their record says they are. They had the internal drive to improve and maybe were lucky to have parents or a coach who saw their potential and didn’t accept anything but their best effort.

My daughter Becky’s last high school game was in the state tournament. Her team was ranked #6 in the state at the time. They had recently defeated Hunterdon Central in the county championship game, beat the number 1 seed in the state bracket and won 19 games in a row. Their opponent was West Morris. The game was played in the old West Morris gym. One half hour before tipoff the game was sold out. Somehow people were still getting in. You couldn’t move. The tension in the building was incredible as the student sections from each school taunted each other (appropriately of course). There were alumni from both schools and several college coaches in attendance.

From the start Voorhees was out of rhythm. They fell behind by 17 points by the middle of the 2nd quarter. Both teams were in full court man to man pressure defenses from the start of the game. The intensity in the building was insane. Voorhees slowly cut into the West Morris lead. With 3 minutes remaining in the 4th quarter West Morris’ D-1 player picked up her 5th foul. She knew it, her coach knew it, the refs knew it, the Voorhees scorebook confirmed it and the scoreboard also showed 5 fouls. The official scorebook however had only 4 fouls listed. Following an extended and heated discussion she was allowed to continue playing. Voorhees continued to battle, fighting through the frustration. They cut the lead to 3 and following a steal had the ball, down three with 4 seconds to play. Coming out of a timeout they ran a play to their second option and got a clean look from about 24 feet. The shot rimmed out and they lost.

In the state tournament the end can come suddenly and brutally. Only one team in the state of New Jersey finishes with a win. Naturally the emotions of the players, parents and fans ran high following that final game. As difficult as it was then, when I look back on that game now what I remember most is how those kids, from both teams, performed in incredibly difficult circumstances. Consider the Voorhees girls, 16, 17 and 18 years old, competing at that level with the expectations, the noise, screaming fans, intensity of the competition, frustration caused by their ineffective play early on, frustration caused by other factors they could not control and the pressure and finality of possibly playing in your last game. They were able to play through it all, recover and compete and come within one shot (or one foul) of coming all the way back from 17 down. That’s what stays with me still. The character displayed by those players. There was no figure pointing, no blaming just a focus on making the next play, playing for each other. They were trying to play to a standard that they set for themselves.

Whatever it was that was inside those kids serves them still – off the court. I continue to see it in my daughter, when she played in college and while she, like all of us, works through the challenges that life brings to our door. It didn’t just happen with those kids. It evolved and developed over years of experiences, some good, some not so good, learning from both success and failure. This is the connection between sports and the rest of our lives. Sports is the laboratory, it’s where we get to show what we’ve learned, who we are, our strengths and our frailties. It’s where we can add something to who we are, try it on to see if it fits. Sports should be a safe place for us to express ourselves – our character. Dividing the world into winners and losers is ignorant thinking. You can win, even when the scoreboard says you didn’t because the final score isn’t tallied until much later on. Life’s final score is based on your ability to “play” to your standards.

Bob Peterman