The Soccer Coaching Bible PDF

Successful coaching is getting people to believe it’s in their best interest to help achieve someone else’s goal.

Parents who get their children to go to bed on time without World War III breaking out are successful coaches.

Managers who get their employees to achieve company goals are successful coaches.

Teachers who motivate their students to improve their learning in a subject they resisted are successful coaches.

Consider the following three examples:

Coach B, Coach Danny, and Coach Legend.

Coach B

Coach B was a quiet, thoughtful, somewhat mysterious man.

He coached soccer at a small Midwestern college that competed with the likes of Indiana, Michigan State, and Purdue because there weren’t enough schools of its size with teams to form a league.

Coach B’s soccer teams were always the most feared and, over the long haul, the most successful.

His very presence inspired the players on his squad.

He had soda-bottle thick glasses that made it difficult to determine the color and outline of his eyes. He always seemed larger than life and appeared to loom over others like the Chief Justice on the Supreme Court.

Had he not been such a good man, such features would have made him look sinister or even evil.

Coach B’s habits, speech, and ideals for living were so far above reproach that he seemed flawless. People truly wondered if he ever sinned.

Players worshipped him and played their hearts out for him. While some coaches feel compelled to shout and belittle players, Coach B sometimes just looked at his players.

His style was to speak softly, but his words carried a strength that transformed stray dogs into show dogs.

Danny Quick was one of those stray dogs.

Danny was a wild-eyed, whirling dervish whose athletic skills and instincts were honed in the streets and back alleys of Detroit.

They didn’t even play soccer in the Motor City—or if they did, few knew about it.

In this city, the Lions, Tigers, and Red Wings ruled.

Unless you were on the streets, as Danny was.

On the streets, one of the games played was “Buicks versus Fords,” which was a daily challenge between the Brewster Roosters and the Alfred Street Gang.

Wars were fought with hubcaps from “abandoned” cars (usually without consent of the owners).

Opponents flung the dented discs at each other like Frisbees; the objective was to score a “hit” while yelling out “Bop!” “Crash!” “Bang!” or “Pow!” in the spirit of Captain Marvel, the cartoon hero of the day.

A roar of “Shazam!” indicated a direct—and temporarily disabling—hit on one of the opposing team members.

Danny was a gold medalist in the haphazard world of Buicks versus Fords and other street sports.

One day, Danny was ambling across campus among the late-afternoon shadows when he heard a familiar shout.

He spun around to see his roomie, Mike Easterling, heading his direction.

“Where ya’ headed, Pascal?” Danny asked.

“Pascal” was a name he and Mike had adopted for each other in Philosophy 101 when they had first heard the name Blasé Pascal.

Whoever spoke first was usually addressed as Pascal, leaving Blasé for the other.

The names were interchangeable. “Hey, Blasé.

I’m turning out for soccer,” Mike answered. “Soccer?” Danny scoffed. “Isn’t that what girls play at recess?” “Nope.

This is a game they play all over the world. I’m turning out to get in shape for basketball.

Want to come?” “Okay, I’ll play along,” Danny relented. “If it involves some running, I’ll use it to get in better shape for hockey.”

The equipment manager handed the Pascal brothers their gear, including huge rubber bands to hold their socks and shin guards in place.

These rubber bands were wide enough and strong enough to strangle elephants.

The shin guards were ancient, beastly contraptions made of reinforced cloth with tubes for bamboo sticks that slid down the front side of the heavily reinforced pads.

Moments later, the two boys jogged over to Coach B, who was several minutes into his practice session.

That’s when Danny remembers seeing the Coach B “look” for the first time.

It wouldn’t be the last. Coach B directed Danny to join the backs and Mike to join the goalkeepers. Ironically, Mike would go on to become a two-time All-American goalkeeper, and Danny became his protector, an All-American center halfback in the old WM formation days.

It’s been said that Coach B was a religious man, and Danny recalls trying to describe his coach to someone back home.

“I never saw him with a Bible in his hand, but I know he must have read it often.

I never saw him pray, but I think he knew how.”

Young coaches often ask how to motivate their players.

The answer is simple: Get organized and live a proper life. Coach B’s practices were always meticulously organized and clear as crystal.

His life was a living, breathing definition of motivation.

He rarely, if ever, raised his voice. He merely expressed his desires—quietly, as if asking for a napkin in a restaurant—and his players stepped on each other trying to please him.

He went on to become a president of two universities and through his very existence inspired hundreds of players, professors, and students.

In one of his inaugural addresses, Coach B gave part of his definition of success, asking, “Of what significance is the victory if the challenge is too small?