Founding Wesley Ultimate

Acknowledgements: 

None of this would have been possible without the help and support of so many people. Particular thanks goes out to: John and the Atlanta Hustle, Kayla and Atlanta Ozone, George and AFDC juniors, Volunteers Matt, Corey, Chris, and assistant coaches Devin and Olivia. And thanks of course to Jason and Wesley International Academy for supporting the team.  

The 2018 Wesley Phoenix Ultimate Team

This past autumn, I founded a middle school ultimate team at the school I work at, Wesley International Academy. My team was the first predominantly low-income, minority middle school (and youth?) ultimate team in the Metro-Atlanta area. 

We had an incredibly successful first year (made it to the playoffs, lost to the big bad Paideia on universe point twice with a shorthanded team) and have built the groundwork for a potentially dominant team in years to come.

I wanted to share my thoughts with you.

Why did I start an ultimate team at Wesley?

My background in ultimate frisbee is comprehensive and key to understanding my coaching intent.

I've played ultimate for 10+ years. I've played for fantastic coaches, some terribly disorganized leaders, and everything in between. I've won high school championships, played on dysfunctional teams that couldn't execute registering for sectionals, played a large role on some middling teams, and made spot appearances as a role player the highest co-ed and semi-professional levels.

From a coaching perspective, I've had a similar plethora of different opportunities. I've coached a U-19 co-ed Youth Club Championships team (an all-star team) of Atlanta, led / jump-started the turnaround of two men's college teams, counseled at various camps in the Atlanta, Boston, and Portland areas. It's safe to say I've had quite the array of experiences--both good and bad--all of which have been fundamental to the skill set in coaching that I currently have.

Throughout all my experiences, my ultimate takeaway was this: Ultimate has brought me joy and has enhanced my life in so many ways. It has taught me so much--teamwork, communication, overcoming adversity, understanding my role, hard work, adjusting expectations... the list goes on--that aren't only applicable in ultimate or sports, but applicable to my everyday life.

Ultimate experience aside, professionally, I work as a middle school teacher at Wesley International Academy, a K-8 public charter school in inner-city Atlanta. The school, is approximately 60 % low-income and 75-80% black. And--given the undeniable fact that ultimate is a predominantly upper-class white sport--it was not surprising that practically no one in my school community knew what ultimate was.

I was in the unique position--of having expert knowledge on the sport, being well immersed in the school community, and working in a school that had little to no exposure of all the benefits of ultimate--to, if executed well, I had the potential to actually bring joy, fun, and perhaps meaning to the hearts of some middle school kids via ultimate. So I gave it a shot.

What were the most important steps in founding an ultimate program?

There are a number of steps needed to successfully found an ultimate program:

1) Actually plan how to introduce the sport and recruit your athletes: I can't tell you how many times I've seen people/schools/teams say they want to start team without having any sort of plan on how to do so. They just think if there is a coach and a team offering, it will magically and organically fall into place, and students will come.

Unfortunately, most kids--particularly in a predominantly minority, low-income community--have no clue about what ultimate actually is. Recruitment is obviously key to starting up any new program, and the first step in starting a program is drumming up interest for the sport. 

Leveraging my unique position as a teacher at the school, I slowly introduced the sport to the kids and the community. I'd go out to recess to throw some hucks via game of 500 or the "Moss" or big--person drill. I'd sneak in a few AUDL highlight reels at the end of my class. That sort of stuff. But the big sell--the first tipping point in starting a successful team--was to....

2) Host a clinic to as many students as possible: With the help of the Atlanta Hustle, the AUDL, and local elite volunteer players/coaches from the community and the cooperation of the Wesley Administration, we were able to introduce and teach ultimate to nearly 200 students, in four different spans of about 40 minutes each.

The clinic is fundamental because, unlike even the best ultimate highlights, it actually allows them to physically play and get involved. It's at this initial clinic that kids can see the athleticism that ultimate entails. They get the chance to realize, like most of us do, that chasing a plastic plate in the air is actually fun. They get to boast about who "Mossed" whom. The jocks--your basketball and football players--get the opportunity to challenge each other and their coaches and show off. (I roasted all them of course). The kids realize that it is indeed a real sport, with real skill, teamwork, and athleticism, and thus actually think it could be worth their time.

But the clinic, and the quick interest we have developed, will only be fleeting for most unless we...

3) Get a disc in the kids' hands: While a well-run clinic is instrumental to hooking students, giving students a disc to take home was in my eyes the most important step to keeping them hooked.

Without the free disc giveaway, whatever interest we drew up by a great clinic could quickly be lost, as the kids would have no means of practicing. It's unlikely the students and their families would be able to or go through the slight inconvenience of buying a disc, and honestly, that's too much to ask out of them for what parents basically see as a foreign object.

The disc gives the students to feel like they have something that is their own, something that is theirs. They take ownership of being an ultimate player, being able to practice throwing and catching.

Plus, it's super cool (still, months later) seeing a handful of (mostly black) kids bring a disc out to recess and throw instead of shoot hoops.

All that said, a getting a clinic and discs are nearly impossible unless you...

Everyone in this pic is playing ultimate of some sort... how many discs can you spot?

4) Get help from your ultimate community. As much as you possibly can: Our team simply would not have happened without community help. Starting a successful ultimate team requires all hands on deck, and is nearly impossible to do on your own.

Example 1: The opening clinic was run by 7-8 volunteers--all of whom were expert players-- during the day on a Monday in May. These people took their own time, some even took off time from work, to make this happen. With about 50 kids per clinic session, having several volunteers made it easy for my middle school students to chase after bombs, understand the drills, receive individual guidance in line, and smoothly move through drills with little wait times. Without all the volunteers that showed up, it's unlikely that the students who showed up would have had a positive first experience as they did.

Community help is crucial to any start-up team's success.

Example 2: Behind the scenes community help. We had a lot of people provided us free stuff to get our program going. The Atlanta Hustle and AUDL provided about 200 discs to our students to help us get started. An Ozone player--without my solicitation--gathered a bunch of jerseys from her elite teammates and provided us with over 100 pieces of ultimate gear to give away and get our kids pumped up about the sport. The director of AFDC, our youth ultimate organization, held our hand and made sure we got through all the hoops we needed to get through to get our program into games and tournaments.

Example 3: The most obvious form of help, coaching: The difference between one and two consistent coaches is one drill or two simaltaneous drills at practice, or double the reps for kids. It's the difference between between able to field one and two teams too, if you have enough kids.

But even the coaches or volunteers that were only able to show up occasionally (or even just once) were instrumental to our success. That third or fourth coach is an extra set of hands to help set up fields to make sure things run more smoothly. Those coaches can actually provide individualized feedback to kids in drills, or take care of a kid who tweaks his ankle and enable practice to go on. Every coach helps.

While securing community help is very important, the community help can be a moot point if you don't...

5) Make sure the school is on board: This step is somewhat unfortunate--given the fact that many schools will likely shrug off the potential benefits of ultimate since they know nothing of it or don't take it seriously, But school support is indeed crucial.

I was fortunate to be a teacher at the school to make a pitch for the sport, and my presence working in the school certainly helped with recruiting and team logistics. And the fact I worked at the school helped instill trust and accountability.

But Wesley as a school itself did a great job supporting the growth of our ultimate program. It gave our team the same funding that the football team had. We had a convenient practice times and locations. It provided small stipends to myself and my assistant coach at the school. It helped order buses and team uniforms. And the school, for the most part, didn't challenge my executive decision making (for example when I took 28 kids instead of 20 and was able to make and A and B teams). Hell, it was the school that gave me the okay to pull my middle school kids from their enrichment classes -- PE, Art, Music, Current Events -- to force them to be exposed to ultimate via our clinic in the first place.

We had principals and teachers come out and support us at games. We were included in the autumn pep rally, and school newsletter. All this stuff matters to make kids care and buy into our sport.

In sum, school support is crucial, and my team got lucky. While the school doesn't have to be as committed as my school was, it does have to show some support and be willing to make some concessions for your team. If the school isn't on board with ultimate, you're program will always be stunted and/or pigeonholed, and not be able to taken seriously by parents, teachers, and ultimately, students. And you'll be fighting an uphill battle the entire season.

What were the biggest challenges I encountered?

1) Cutting Kids: The biggest challenge I had during the season was cutting kids. We did such a great job recruiting and introducing our sport that we had 45(!) kids try out for the team. In year one. In a school/community that knew basically nothing about ultimate.

But the downside to the large turnout was, of course, we did not have the personnel / resources / field space to actually field all of our tryout attendees. As those in our sport know, ultimate should be a sport where we accept anyone that wants to play--it certainly was at both colleges I attended-- and turning away even a single person who wants to learn and play the game is a damn shame, especially when the players I'm turning away are bright-eyed, enthusiastic, minority middle schoolers. Ugh.

But since I had to make cuts, cutting kids on the bubble became a strategic and stressful process. I had to balance a lot of stuff. Do I take the 6th grade boy who clearly isn't athletic enough for the team, but has come out to every event, even the optional ones? What about the two 8th grade guys are are tall and reasonable athletic, but are space cadets in school and are barely passing their classes? What about the 8th grade girl who has showed up to everything and seems passionate, but isn't as athletic? Or the two 7th grade twins who seem passionate, but only made it to a couple of the tryouts? There was extra pressure because cutting these kids was literally denying them a chance to (potentially ever) play the sport.

I was instructed to make only one team my first year. At the middle school level, given my goal was to provide a positive experience to every kid I took--which meant reasonable playing time for most--I initially settled on taking about 22-23 players.

I ended up taking every single one of the bubble players and settled on 28 players for my team, which I then split into what were basically A and B teams, despite push-back from my school to stick with only one team. I should have taken more students.

The lessons I learned, particularly with this age of people but also to people in general, is to take the people who really want to be there. You might have a more talented person, but if they can't focus or don't seem as enthused about the sport, they probably won't be able to contribute later on. If the goal is promote the sport to players who want it, then take players who want it.

2) Managing playing time, and playing the right way vs. winning games: Any analytically competent ultimate coach realizes that the more teams turn over the disc, the less important possession and the more important field position is. Middle school ultimate frisbee is, even at the highest levels, often consists of several turnovers per point. So the field position game is huge, and you must base your strategy on this fact.

There are strategies that were simply good strategies. For example, I always had my downfield defenders back their cutters, and I usually encouraged a straight-up mark that made long-hucks difficult and encouraged many short throws, since I figure a miscue would happen eventually. And if we won the disc flip, I usually would opt to pull to start the game for the benefit of field position instead of possession.

But then there are other situations--specifically on offense--where a strategic game decision might not align with the values -- a positive experience for all my players -- I want to bring to my team.

For example, we had a reasonably coordinated 6' 4" player on our team, and one kid who could pretty consistently throw 40-50 yard hucks. Given the high propensity of turnovers, it's a no brainer strategic decision to throw it up to my tall guy and give him a 50/50 chance at it, as opposed to play some more traditional ultimate with completion percentages in the 70s or 80s.

But, while winning is important to the joy of kids, would that strategy really give the most kids a positive experience, real development, and to keep them playing the game? It was tricky balancing that goal with the desire to win every game.

Similarly, especially at the lower levels of the sport, the talent difference is greater between your best and your lower talent players. It's more strategically sound to run your best 7-9 players than to open up lines.

But at what cost was it worth it to go for the win by launching hucks every throw, and running the same seven players out there? Was it better to not go all out and win? 

What is it like coaching middle schoolers vs. older players?

There were two main differences, other than the aforementioned game strategy, between coaching middle schoolers and older people.

1) Parents:  Parents are awesome--they communicate well, they bring snacks and meals for the team before games, and they make the best fans on the sidelines. They were honestly perhaps the most enjoyable part of coaching kids.

Our end-of-year Potluck was a huge success; all the food brought in by parents!

In addition to great genuine fan support for all of our games, we had parents lining up to help. They gave rides to kids whose parents were late. They coordinated sign-up sheets for snacks and food, which were brought to every single game. One parent, on his own, made and printed team t-shirts and hoodies for our team, coaches, and parents. Pretty much every single parent made something delicious for our end of the season potluck. And all of the thanks that parents give to coaches is so much more than anything any player I've coached has given, which is nice too.

2) The kids: Coaching middle schoolers is so different than high schoolers or college kids. Older players certainly have the edge in intelligence and ability to process both simple and complex concepts and strategies, and they can focus more. But they also are more apathetic about your coaching, sometimes think they know more than you (they don't), and flake commitment for reasons that are simply frustrating and selfish.

Middle School kids, despite the fact it may take them four weeks to learn the basic intricacies of the stack because their attention span only lasts a few minutes, actually always respect you and want to learn everything you teach them. They don't make excuses for not showing up to practice (thanks parents!), it's not like they have anything else to do, and they have a childish joy that is fun to be around when coaching. Thus, practice attendance is more consistent, and even though they learn at a slower pace, it's more rewarding once they get concepts.

Did I like coaching at a school that knows nothing about ultimate?

While there were certainly some hurdles with my school administration -- I encountered issues with my administration's budget spending, organization, and communication at times -- coaching at a school and community that knew basically nothing about ultimate was fantastic.

Coaching Middle Schoolers is pretty fun.

Perhaps the most riveting part of my coaching gig this year was being in the rare position in which I had ultimate control of a part of an organization. It was nice to be the most expert person in the field, and to not have someone be able to tell me what to do. I enjoyed nearly complete autonomy over team operations and scheduling. If I wanted something done a particular way, it was a near certainty that it would happen, because since the administrators had little experience with ultimate, they really couldn't tell me otherwise.

And while my egotistical self certainly enjoyed being well-respected and treated as an expert, what truly made me love coaching at a school with little ultimate background was the value and impact that I brought to the school. It was empowering knowing that people -- students, parents, teachers, etc. -- were completely dependent on me to provide a meaningful positive experience. It was cool knowing how much value I -- and only I-- could bring to the community.

It was a responsibility different than any other job I've ever had. For example, if I couldn't make a YCC Practice or a Vanderbilt practice when I was coaching, the show would go on without me. And even when I left those teams for good, they are still in existences and have found strong replacements. But at Wesley, if I didn't show up, there would be nothing, practice would be cancelled. And if was never there, the team simply wouldn't exist.

But it was this fact made me work so much harder. I was always the first one at practice, last one to leave. I'd always be at school on ultimate days, even if I was sick, because I knew how important my presence was. I was pestering players, parents, and volunteers to get their shit done, because if I didn't, it wouldn't get done. It was a cool position to be in.

Some cool moments:

The fruits of my labor can best be explained by a small series of specific anecdotes-- my most memorable, favorite moments--from the season. They are as follows:

- When I saw a sixth grade who had found his own way to AUDL highlights on his laptop the week of tryouts
- Any time I saw a kid bring a disc to school or play/throw at recess.
- When a 6-year old brother of a player on the team would consistently throw 40 yard flicks on the sideline of our games (I'm dead serious).
- When a parent came up to me after during the week of tryouts saying "I hope [my son] makes the team. He's never played a competitive sport before... it's sort of his last chance." (He made it).
- When a parent sent me an email saying "[My daughter] doesn't seem to get the sport... do you think she should stick with it or simply drop out?" Only to have her dominate a few weeks later.
- When a player came up to me after school one day and said she went to the doctor who told her that her asthma and oxygen levels are low and that exercise was needed... and that ultimate had done wonders for her health because without it she likely wouldn't be as active.
- When a parent told me the story of a player (not her child)--who wasn't your typical athlete--whose whole family came into town to watch him at a tournament, and how they went wild every time he touched the disc and gave him the confidence and support he had never had in sports, and how it could have been his highlight of his year.

My Absolute Favorite Moment:

It was the opening game of our season, a perfect Tuesday evening in September. Our game was scheduled to start 4:30pm in the Active Oval of Atlanta's famed Piedmont Park -- the perfect setting for a game. But our bus was late, and we weren't able to get to the fields until 5:30.

I was super stressed -- opening day and we're really late -- but we finally made it. After a few points, we had actually had to relocate to a different side of the active oval because the fields we were on were being used.

About fifteen minutes into the game, after my blood pressure had finally settled from the stress of being late and into a more normal state, I finally took a second to look around: the atmosphere was incredible, one I won't soon forget.

My players were all a bit antsy, in their jerseys, walking up and down the sidelines, unsure how the game would go or how to feel. Every time we completed a pass, got a D, or scored, the our players on the sidelines went nuts, jumping and yelling. It was so cool.

The kids were great, but parents were even better. There had to be a good 40-50 fans on my team's sideline, all of them first-time ultimate game attendees. A good 10-15 parents had their phones constantly snapping pictures or recording the game on video, as if our sport was a sport only aliens played and had just introduced to them for the first time. The parents were all wide-eyed with an incredible curiosity--like a focused deer in headlights--their faces saying "I have no clue what's going on, but this is awesome!"

And it was at that moment, despite all the hardships that would come with the job--complications with the buses, coaching in the rain, coaching seven games in a day, waiting for 90 minutes after practice for a kid to get picked up after practice-- was all worth it. I had successfully introduced ultimate, and all the joys ultimate brought to the table, into these families' lives.

The Wesley Ultimate team at practice on a nice autumn afternoon.

The bigger picture: What can we, as an ultimate community, do differently to help our community grow?

Heartfelt story aside, here's where this blog post gets serious. What were my takeaways, from a grander perspective?

I want to preface this section by reiterating my personal goals, that I briefly mentioned about why I started the Wesley Ultimate Team.

My goal was, and is still, to bring the joys and skills that ultimate has brought me--the teamwork, communication, overcoming adversity, understanding my role, hard work, adjusting expectations... the list goes on--to as many people as possible, particularly those who are less exposed to the sport. I believe that everyone deserves the opportunity to enjoy ultimate if they want to.

With that, I have a two, larger-perspective points I want to make.

Point #1) I'm pro-AUDL, because the AUDL actually seems to help underprivileged communities gain exposure and access to ultimate.

Listen, I've heard the arguments on why a lot of people are at odds with the AUDL at this point. The AUDL and its partners don't support gender equity. The AUDL and its refs challenges the integrity of ultimate, specifically Spirit of the Game.** The AUDL dilutes the purity of the sport with its rule changes, and its single-game format does not promote inclusion for non-elite players. I've heard them all.

**In sum I see spirit of the game as being able to compete at the highest level while being fair, courteous, and not a jerk. There's no reason this can't be done in under-served communities, under different rules, and in different cultures. It's basically the same themes as respectful pickup basketball.

I'm Pro AUDL because they accommodate diverse fans.

I wouldn't say that I disagree with these criticisms. They certainly hold some weight.

But, with that being said, I'm still in full support of the AUDL because the AUDL has simply done more to introduce casual followers (and thus under-served communities) to the sport of ultimate.

Why do I feel this way? Three quick reasons.

First, the traditional rules of USA Ultimate do not encourage new fandom from casual followers. While all of ultimate's rules and tidbits--no refs, tournament styled play, etc.--certainly are cool and unique for someone who is ingrained in the ultimate culture-- it's very confusing, unrelatable, inefficient, and frustrating for anyone who has little to no knowledge about the sport and simply wants to learn about it. (and yes, most people in under-served communities fall this category.)

Similarly, the USAU tournament setup is difficult to follow and is not spectator friendly--what kind of casual fan would ever want to drive several hours away to stand on a field an entire weekend with no seating, to watch exhausted players all weekend? What kind of person enjoys watching a game, only for it to stop, watch two players have a lengthy discussion for a few minutes, only to have the disc thrown back to where it began with no sort of explanation?

The AUDL solves that. With higher speed and higher quality play, high-quality video footage, single-game competition formats, fast-moving transitions, refs that quickly make calls and speed the game up, and games in stadiums that can actually seat people, it's clear to me that the AUDL is more appealing to those casual followers and of non-ultimate cultures.

Second, for those few people who are skilled enough, the AUDL provides a feasible way for players to play at an elite level without paying thousands of dollars. As an AUDL player you'll get (practically) all your expenses covered, and even a bit of money for your troubles.

Conversely, Have you seen the per player fees to compete at USAU Nationals in recent years? On top of the requirements to travel to several tournaments a year to maintain such elite team status? I've always wanted to play at nationals, but now part of me doesn't want to go because quite frankly I'm not sure I can afford it.

Thus, it's likewise hard to argue that USAU is a better option for those elite players struggling financially.

And Third, and most directly related to Wesley's ultimate, the AUDL (via the Hustle) actually helped the growth of my team. They're the ones that helped us get nearly 200 discs out to mostly low-income and black kids. They are the ones that provide great quality highlight reels to share and pique interest. They're the ones that can provide a spectator-friendly in game experience (for free!) that kids and parents who know nothing about the sport can enjoy and sort of understand.

I'm still having trouble figuring out, what if anything, USA Ultimate has provided us--nevermind people who know nothing of the sport--other than required (rising and seemingly unreasonable) fees that don't directly help our program. I mean seriously, you're forcing coaches to pay for a USAU coaching membership?**

** The irony is that USAU should be trying to recruit me and my clientele, which longer-term would boost their revenue from a business perspective. But hey, what do I know?

The Hustle donated over 200 disc to our school.

Point #2) You have to sacrifice something to make a difference.

I want to preface this section by reiterating that not everyone has the same goal--to spread the joy of ultimate-- --to as many people as possible, particularly those who do not have access to the sport--as I have.

The vast majority of ultimate players I know play ultimate for fun, the camaraderie, or the competition. Do I think this is a bit selfish? Sure. But do I think anything is wrong with that? Absolutely not -- you have the power to do whatever you want, and your life decisions are totally your decisions. I 100% support these people (really). You do you. You have no obligation to serving the greater good.

Then there are a number of people who elect to coach. You all are awesome. Most ultimate coaches claim that they want to make a difference in people's lives through ultimate. And there are many ways to make a difference in people's lives through coaching, and there are many niches in the coaching community.

For example, the head coaches at Paideia are elite coaches who bring the best out of incredibly talented (and privileged) players. All the power to them. The head coach at my college alma matter, Emory, has done a great job rebuilding a college team to be competitive at a national level. Fantastic. My brother coached three championship winning YCC all-star teams, of incredibly talented (and privileged) players, but his thing is helping elite athletes reach their peaks. Good for him. 

And my niche, this year, was to build a program from the ground up in a (lesser-privileged) school and community that knew nothing about the sport. And because of this I wholeheartedly feel that my coaching job was making more of a difference than any of the other jobs I just mentioned. 

Why? I've already touched up on this a bit earlier, without me as a coach, Wesley's relationship with ultimate would be nothing. Literally no ultimate. Ultimate would be void in my kids', parents' school's, and community's lives.

Conversely, if the head coaches at Paideia left their jobs, sure they'd get slightly worse, as they're losing the best of the best coaches out there. But how much different would things really be if they left? Paideia would hire the next best available--and extremely** qualified--coaches for their top ultimate teams. Sure, instead of 31-2 the ultimate team might be 25-6, but the program would undoubtedly still be exceptional. Similar stories with Emory's team and my brother's YCC teams. Their team would have slightly worse replacements, but all in all, they'd be okay, if not great.

** I mean, the guy who helps coach Atlanta's best adult teams (Hustle, Chain, Ozone), national-level U-23 teams, etc. is Paideia's Middle School B-Team coach. And there are like four-five other top-level players coaching in their system. 

While it's certainly defensible that these elite coaches who are committed to their schools do what they do, and that they do make a difference, what becomes a bit more of a gray area is when you look at other, not-as-expert coaches in the community and look into (the lack of a) difference they actually make for the ultimate community.

It saddens me--no, frankly pisses me off--when I look at the ultimate coaching scene in Atlanta (which I also assume is similar in most other cities), and the complete dearth of talented coaches in schools that actually need them.

Do schools like Paideia and Grady really need six elite level / nationals caliber coaches? Does Emory really need six qualified coaches as well? Is it really best for the ultimate community for a Paideia to have six great coaches, but for the local public high school down the street, Maynard Jackson, to not have a even single competent coach, and thus be unable to field a team?

Yet these privileged programs still have an abundance of them.

Does the least experienced player/coach at these places know that they provide a marginal net value, at least relative to if they coached at a local school with no support or team like Wesley, or Maynard Jackson, or any of the twenties or fifties of schools in the Metro Atlanta without ultimate teams? Do they know that they could legitimately be changing lives and communities through ultimate, instead of being a nice little luxury? Do they know that one extra, committed coach at Wesley could have been the difference between 28 and 45 kids (the number of kids I cut) playing ultimate, or that a committed coach at Maynard Jackson High School could be the gateway to hundreds more people exposed to our sport? 

But coaches still flock to the Emorys, the Gradys, which means what, the difference between a record of 13-8 and 12-9?  (Nearly) every single coach does.... I mean, Wesley--the school of the program I started--the only current predominantly minority youth team in Atlanta... how has it gotten to this point? 

Some deeper thought about this dilemma reveals a very simple answer: it is a lot easier and more convenient to work for the Emorys, the Gradys and Paideias.

It's a lot easier to get paid a healthy stipend that the Paideias of the world can afford. It's a lot easier to jump into a coaching situation where an expert coach can handle logistics and guide your development. It's a lot easier to work in a school where ultimate is already respected and the administration won't give you many problems. So people elect to coach there. Which makes sense.

And who is benefitting from this convenience? It sure as hell isn't the Wesleys, the Maynard Jacksons, the poor kids, the minority kids, or the communities that need ultimate the most.

But this is where I make perhaps my most important point of this entire blog post.

If you are a current or future coach, ask yourself these two questions: Why am I really coaching? And do I want to make a real, greater difference?

As I mentioned before, not everyone has the same coaching motivation. Some people like bringing out the best of elite athletes. Some want to contribute to the school they work at. Others want to foster relationships between college players. Some want to give back to their local communities or alma matters. Others want to have something to do on weeknights to have that feeling that they are giving back, and enhancing lives, but only at a time, location, wage, and schedule that is convenient for them. 

But if you're coaching to actually make a real difference--especially if you aren't an elite-type coach, which you don't have to be--realize this one thing:

In order to make a real difference or change in our community--whether it's in socioecononmic, or racial, or gender equity or anything else--you have to sacrifice something you care about and inconvenience yourself. You have to be willing to work for slightly less (or no) pay. You have to be willing to suffer through insecure and poor organization and leadership. You have to be willing to have to take a valued personal day off of work to volunteer at a clinic. You have to risk yourself and give up something that is of value to you. 

In any case, even if you don't feel that strongly to make a difference, I totally get it and respect your rationale. Some people want to coach and make a difference, but they can't afford to work at an inconvenient location or for no pay. Others don't want to deal with stubborn administrations that know little about and don't actually respect ultimate. Some people get frustrated with coaching uncommitted players that flake a bunch and resulting in a losing team. That's your prerogative. It's hard to not respect someone's own choices.

But if you aren't willing to make that sacrifice to make a difference (which I respect and completely understand), at least be honest with yourself and your community, and don't pretend like you want to make a difference. There's no such thing as "wanting to make a real difference but only at my convenience." 

Don't say you want to help at a clinic but can never make it because you have work or you're busy. Don't say you'd love to join an all-minority team and its mission, but then reject an invitation once the new team is formed because you enjoy playing with another team that's guaranteed to be established.

It's nearly impossible to actually make a difference unless you actually sacrifice something you care about. We all have things that we are giving up to make a difference. If it was easy and convenient to make a difference, and you didn't have to give up anything, someone would have done it already. You wouldn't be making a difference at all.

And now coaches, after reading this, once again, ask yourself: Why am I really coaching? And do I actually want to make a real difference?

And if you don't make a difference, than who will? The world is waiting.

-JTF