The Ultimate Compliment as a Coach

The Ultimate Compliment as a Coach

I’ve been fortunate in my life to wear a lot of hats—athlete, coach, official, mentor, teacher. I’ve been part of championship teams, stood on big stages, and experienced moments that most people would define as “success.”

But if I’m being honest, the compliment that means the most to me doesn’t come with a trophy, a title, or a headline.

It comes when a former athlete chooses to coach.

That decision hits differently.

Coaching is not glamorous. It’s long hours, difficult conversations, constant problem-solving, and often very little recognition. It requires patience, humility, and a willingness to serve others before yourself. People don’t stumble into coaching by accident—they choose it.

When an athlete decides to step into that role, it tells me something powerful about their experience. It tells me they saw value beyond wins and losses. It tells me they felt invested in, challenged, and guided in a way that mattered. Most importantly, it tells me they believe the role of a coach is worth passing forward.

Over the years, I’ve seen leadership from just about every angle—on the mat, from the corner, and from the referee’s position. I’ve seen coaches who were technically brilliant but disconnected from their athletes. I’ve also seen coaches who weren’t perfect tacticians, but who profoundly shaped the lives of the people they worked with.

The difference is rarely what was said.
It’s how it was lived.

Athletes don’t decide to coach because of one motivational speech or a specific drill. They decide to coach because of the daily example they witnessed—how adversity was handled, how accountability was modeled, how people were treated when things didn’t go well.

At some point, awareness kicks in. An athlete begins to recognize the influence a coach truly has—not just on performance, but on confidence, character, and direction. From there, ownership follows. Coaching is a conscious decision to take responsibility for others, knowing full well it won’t always be easy or comfortable. And finally, there’s commitment—the understanding that this path requires consistency, patience, and service over time.

That progression doesn’t happen overnight. It’s shaped slowly, through observation and experience.

I’m grateful for the coaches who shaped me long before I ever had the opportunity to coach myself. My high school coach, Jim Cooper—known to many as the nutty professor—challenged me to think, to question, and to see the sport as more than just physical effort. My college coach, Roger Denker, modeled consistency, preparation, and quiet leadership. Neither was perfect, but both were deeply invested, and both left a lasting imprint on who I became.

For me, this reflection has taken on even deeper meaning as I’ve watched my son, Keenan, step into the coaching world. Seeing him choose a path rooted in leadership, service, and development—not because it’s easy, but because it matters—has been both humbling and grounding. It’s a reminder that the example we set doesn’t stop at the practice room or competition floor. It carries into the lives closest to us.

I’m also keenly aware that this compliment carries responsibility. When someone chooses to coach after being part of your program, it’s a reminder that your actions mattered—sometimes more than you realized. It’s also a reminder that someone was always watching, learning, and deciding what kind of leader they wanted to become.

I didn’t come up with these lessons on my own. They were passed down to me, shaped through experience, and reinforced over time.

That’s the ripple effect of coaching.

When an athlete chooses to coach, the wins keep going long after the whistle.

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