One year, based on a parent's suggestion, I decided to offer player/parent/coach meetings for the competitive U-11 youth soccer team I was coaching. My only regret was that I did not do it earlier. It turned out to be very valuable for players and parents alike. To this day, I still get compliments from the parents who were part of that team.
First, I wrote individual evaluations for each player. This was followed up with a face-to-face meeting with each player and his parents. Below, I describe the process in more detail.
Evaluations
My recommendation is to do at least two evaluations each season, three if you are coaching a competitive team.
* The first evaluation should take place two to four weeks after the first practice. By that time, coaches should have a fairly good idea of their players' strengths and areas that need improving.
* The second evaluation is optional for a house team but is very worthwhile for a competitive team. Mid-season is a great time to have this evaluation. The season is well under way and a coaches should have a good idea of where their team stacks up against the competition and probably has a game plan in mind for the rest of the year. This is a great opportunity for parents to ask questions or bring up concerns that can still be addressed.
* The final evaluation should take place just before the end of the season. A coach has seen how the players improved throughout the season and what needs to be worked on in the offseason. This is a great time for a coach to share his or her plans for the following year and to get a feel for what the players and parents have in mind as well.
Evaluation Format
One particular method that I really like and have incorporated into my evaluations and meetings is called the "Criticism Sandwich." PCA recommends sandwiching criticism (or corrections) with a compliment on both sides. The criticism is the meat, while the compliments are the bread.
My evaluations were an open-faced criticism sandwich. I first listed all the good qualities and traits a player possessed followed by a list of areas that needed improving. I always listed at least three good qualities and at least three areas needing improvement. I always had at least one assistant review my feedback not just to get his feedback but to make sure that nothing inappropriate was being said. Always make sure that the areas for improvement are attainable by that player.
Player/Parent/Coach Meeting
I prepared and conducted the meetings in the following manner:
* I emailed my evaluation to each family before the meeting to give them time to review my feedback and come prepared with any questions.
* I tried to have the meetings between tournament games. When that was not an option, I set aside a practice and had my assistant run a 'fun' practice while I was busy with the meetings. Each meeting was no longer than 10 minutes.
I used the more traditional "criticism sandwich" during these meeting. I went over the player's strengths. That was followed by a discussion covering the areas that needed improving. This part was indeed a discussion (not a monologue) because I wanted the player and parents to agree, disagree, or ask questions. I always ended the meeting with lots of positive reinforcements and encouragement and I let the player know that I believed that he had what it took to become a better player.
If it was the second or third meeting, I always reviewed the previous improvement list to see how much progress he had made.
I always talked directly to the player and included the parents when I wanted to emphasize a particular point.
Yes, it will probably consume many, many hours of your time, especially writing the evaluations. If time is an issue, having only one round of meetings is better than none. This exercise turned out to be very worthwhile and rewarding for myself as well. I feel I became a much more positive coach as I started to use the criticism sandwich technique much more in practice and during games.
If you are not already doing player evaluations and having meetings with your players and parents, I hope you give it a try. I guarantee you that the parents will appreciate the effort.
Wednesday, January 27, 2010
Tuesday, January 26, 2010
Small Sided Games
You see the same comments over and over again. Let the game be the teacher. Play small sided games.....3v3 & 4v4.
Here are a few comments from the 2nd overall pick in the 2010 Major League Soccer SuperDraft held two weeks ago.....
This season, Tony Tchani will be wearing the jersey of the New York Red Bulls. It will be one of the few uniforms the 20-year-old has ever worn. Before he came to the USA from Cameroon in 2006, Tchani played all his soccer on the streets of Bafang.
"Since I was little I would just play on the street with my friends," said 6-foot-4 Tchani, who went pro after helping Virginia win the NCAA Division I title in his sophomore season. "On the street there's no parents, no referees, no rules. You just play. I'd play with my friends. Usually four-on-four or three-on-three."
When his friends weren't around, he'd juggle or practice his shooting. On television, he'd watch his hero, the Frenchman Zinedine Zidane. From television he learned the rules of the game. Of American soccer he knew little.
Courtesy to Soccer America Daily
Here are a few comments from the 2nd overall pick in the 2010 Major League Soccer SuperDraft held two weeks ago.....
This season, Tony Tchani will be wearing the jersey of the New York Red Bulls. It will be one of the few uniforms the 20-year-old has ever worn. Before he came to the USA from Cameroon in 2006, Tchani played all his soccer on the streets of Bafang.
"Since I was little I would just play on the street with my friends," said 6-foot-4 Tchani, who went pro after helping Virginia win the NCAA Division I title in his sophomore season. "On the street there's no parents, no referees, no rules. You just play. I'd play with my friends. Usually four-on-four or three-on-three."
When his friends weren't around, he'd juggle or practice his shooting. On television, he'd watch his hero, the Frenchman Zinedine Zidane. From television he learned the rules of the game. Of American soccer he knew little.
Courtesy to Soccer America Daily
Thursday, January 21, 2010
Spring Registration is OPEN
Register NOW for Spring Soccer!
If soccer is the only sport your child will be playing this season with OPRA, we encourage you to register through www.charlottesocceracademy.com. Charlotte Soccer Academy (CSA) runs the soccer program for OPRA. By registering through CSA you will not be required to pay the OPRA $75 Family Sports Fee. If you child plays other sports through OPRA (e.g. baseball, basketball, cheerleading, football, or softball), you must register for soccer through the OPRA site and pay the Family Sports Fee.
Please be sure to indicate your coach in the "special request/comments section".
For more soccer program information, please visit www.oprasports.com.
Jamie Luckie and Abby Lynch are your program contacts and can be reached via email at recsoccer@charlottesocceracademy.com.
If soccer is the only sport your child will be playing this season with OPRA, we encourage you to register through www.charlottesocceracademy.com. Charlotte Soccer Academy (CSA) runs the soccer program for OPRA. By registering through CSA you will not be required to pay the OPRA $75 Family Sports Fee. If you child plays other sports through OPRA (e.g. baseball, basketball, cheerleading, football, or softball), you must register for soccer through the OPRA site and pay the Family Sports Fee.
Please be sure to indicate your coach in the "special request/comments section".
For more soccer program information, please visit www.oprasports.com.
Jamie Luckie and Abby Lynch are your program contacts and can be reached via email at recsoccer@charlottesocceracademy.com.
Wednesday, January 20, 2010
The Bare Cupboard
Coaches,
You play such an important role in the entire youth system. Listen to the crisis England faces according to England's Director of Football Development........
Sir Trevor Brooking last night admitted he feared English football will only go backwards if we cannot abandon the long-ball culture.
While Fabio Capello’s squad will travel to South Africa in buoyant mood in the summer, Brooking, the FA’s Director of Football Development, suggested the cupboard may be bare in a matter of years.
Brooking, speaking at the launch of the £100million National Football Centre at Burton, said: “We’ve not got the depth of talent for a country of 60million-plus people.
“If you look beyond the 'Golden Generation' of Lampard and Gerrard, what is there? We all ask if they can do it at the World Cup this summer? We’ll wait and see. But after them there isn’t the depth.”
Brooking added: “We’ve not got enough players who are comfortable on the ball, can step into midfield from the back or drop off into the hole.
“We have to get youngsters playing the way Brazil and Spain are playing. That’s the way football is going, with more intricate passing, and for the FA not to prepare our youngsters for that in the future would be stupid.
“If we are honest, we are not developing technical youngsters. The first thing you have to do is make it clear that you do not play long ball at any stage. You have to resist the temptation to do it at 12 or 14 just to win matches at that age.
“It is about building the right principles. We are trying to embarrass the dads who just want their kids to win at any costs. We have to get the message home that they have to play football. That means good quality coaches who can spread the philosophy.”
You play such an important role in the entire youth system. Listen to the crisis England faces according to England's Director of Football Development........
Sir Trevor Brooking last night admitted he feared English football will only go backwards if we cannot abandon the long-ball culture.
While Fabio Capello’s squad will travel to South Africa in buoyant mood in the summer, Brooking, the FA’s Director of Football Development, suggested the cupboard may be bare in a matter of years.
Brooking, speaking at the launch of the £100million National Football Centre at Burton, said: “We’ve not got the depth of talent for a country of 60million-plus people.
“If you look beyond the 'Golden Generation' of Lampard and Gerrard, what is there? We all ask if they can do it at the World Cup this summer? We’ll wait and see. But after them there isn’t the depth.”
Brooking added: “We’ve not got enough players who are comfortable on the ball, can step into midfield from the back or drop off into the hole.
“We have to get youngsters playing the way Brazil and Spain are playing. That’s the way football is going, with more intricate passing, and for the FA not to prepare our youngsters for that in the future would be stupid.
“If we are honest, we are not developing technical youngsters. The first thing you have to do is make it clear that you do not play long ball at any stage. You have to resist the temptation to do it at 12 or 14 just to win matches at that age.
“It is about building the right principles. We are trying to embarrass the dads who just want their kids to win at any costs. We have to get the message home that they have to play football. That means good quality coaches who can spread the philosophy.”
Wednesday, January 6, 2010
The Magic of Informal Play: 'Let's kick, Daddy'
"Let's kick, Daddy." Those were the words our 2-year-old son Braedon uttered a few months ago. As soon as the phrase had crossed his lips a flood of memories came rushing back to the forefront of my mind.
Two decades ago if you were a soccer player growing up in Millersville, Pa., "Let's kick! " or "Do you want to kick?" meant so much more than passing a ball back and forth as my son was now requesting. In our 1980s lexicon for soccer junkies, "to kick" took on a cult-like meaning that was as deep and varied as the characters who engaged in the activity.
The first step was to head over to the Millersville University soccer field, which was conveniently located a quick fence hop from Penn Manor High where most of us went to school.
If you arrived alone, you spent some time juggling and dribbling through mock defenders before drilling shots at the kickboard: a dilapidated structure the size of a regulation goal with peeling green paint.
The "wall" as we called it was a rectangular box with a narrow hollow space in between four plywood walls. Since the wall had no roof, if you hit your shot just wrong, with the appropriate pace and dip, your ball would end up pin-balling back and forth inside the structure and you would have to climb inside for retrieval. If there were several players at the wall, whoever shot the last ball in, had to fish out all of the balls!
Almost always, someone else would show up at the wall to kick. With two or three players your kicking options expanded to partner juggling, "pinging" the ball and serving balls from the flank for your buddies to blast into the wall with volleys, "bikes" and diving headers.
"Pinging it" was a blast. You hit low, driven, flighted balls as hard and as accurately as you could right at your mate and he had to control it and ping it back to you as hard as he could. The goal was to hit the ball so hard that your friend's first touch got away - the closer you were to each other the more fun the challenge.
Mark Colangelo was the master. From 10 yards away he could control my hardest drive with a pillow-soft touch and with a lightning quick second touch he'd bang the ball off my shin, much to the amusement of anyone watching.
When we tired of pinging it, we went back to the wall where one of us would go out to the flank and serve balls to guys making runs into the box. We only sent one runner at a time and soccer balls were usually scarce so you wanted to be extremely efficient with your crosses.
Today it seems like kids are happy to just dump it into the box anywhere. Back then, when a guy three or four years older was making a full speed run to the near post, you felt a heavy responsibility to put it on his head. If you were accurate and consistent, the older guys loved you to go out wide, which was an honor. If you struggled out there, they sent someone else out and gave you the hook.
As good as it felt to be chosen to set the table from the flank, the most fun was being on the receiving end of those crosses. It was not enough to score, you had to finish with style. Diving headers, full-, half- and side-volleys, deft flicks and "bikes" were all on the menu. If you caught a basic bread-and-butter cross that did not immediately lend itself to a gourmet presentation, you added your own bit of flavor to hopefully create an unforgettable dish.
Ground serves were roofed into upper corners or heel-flicked sublimely to the far post. On the rare occasion that a goalkeeper was brave or insane enough to jump in net, you'd have to go for the meg at least once.
We all tried "bikes," but nobody could pull them off like Roy Mehl. Roy was a stocky, powerful player who like Mark, played his college ball at Lock Haven. He missed his fare share like the rest of us, landing in a heap in the dirt. But when he connected, it was like the ball was shot out of a cannon and it would go crashing into the wall. Then he'd stand up, dust himself off and never once change his facial expression from the intense stare that was a constant whenever he played.
Once four players arrived, we could abandon the wall for a spirited game of 3v1. It was our version of the age-old playground game "monkey in the middle" and our goal was to truly make the guy in the middle look like a monkey. Making him run around foolishly flailing and missing was sheer joy and a nutmeg that kept him in for an extra round was ecstasy.
We learned from our elder peers the art of leg blocking, scooping the ball over an outstretched foot, head and shoulder fakes, deceptive glances, behind the leg flicks, supporting shape, defensive work rate and redirecting a pass with one touch while jumping over a flying two-footed tackle. All this without a coach in sight!
Ah, but the best was still to come: when we picked teams and played. By now more people had arrived and we had numbers for a game. Seventh- and eighth-graders were there like Teddy Brubaker and Hans Haverstick (who sadly passed in 2005). Then there was my era of high school guys like Bill Mullins, Matt Allen, Dan Lembo, John Symonds and our dear friend Boyd Lyon, who sadly left us in 2006.
Boyd was the most competitive of a group of hyper-competitive guys. If he ended up in the middle during 3v1 he would chew up the grass with his hard running, violent cuts and crunching tackles.
In pick-up games if you took the ball off him, you knew to play it quickly to a teammate because he was coming after you with a ferocity befitting his last name. Off the field, Boyd was a teddy bear, kind, loyal, always up for a laugh; a wonderful friend. On the field even the older guys hated to play against him and everyone loved to have him on their side.
In addition to our high school group was the older crew; college guys and recent grads like Colangelo, Mehl, Grant Myers, Chris Hoover ('Hoov'), Eric Hurt ('Nike'), Chuck Ducker ('Duck') and Troy Newswanger ('Wang'). We all grew up in the 'Ville, most attending Penn Manor and many going on to play in college.
The pick-up games were always intense. Whether it was 2v2 or 10v10, we played like it was our last day on earth. No one wore shinguards, but that did not prevent us from getting "stuck-in" or "going to ground."
You often hear coaches say "the game is the best teacher" -- it is also the most fun and we absolutely loved it. We kicked for hours every day and we still could not get enough. When it grew dark the guys who were old enough to drive would pull their cars up to the field and turn on their lights so we could get an extra 15-20 minutes in.
No one talked of getting burned-out - what was that? We craved the game like nomads lost on the desert dying of thirst and when we found our life-sustaining elixir, we gulped greedily; we were insatiable.
Little did my son know the spark he was rekindling for his grateful father when he said those three simple words, "Let's kick, Daddy."
"Kicking" was a way of life for us back then. The personalities and the game itself helped form us during our most formative years. I am sure there were countless other little pockets of soccer-playing fanatics creating their own versions of the beautiful game all across America back in the 1980s.
I fear many of these tiny futbol Meccas have died off and it is up to all of us involved in the game to do our best to stave off the extinction of informal soccer and encourage and applaud its renewed growth. So that in the future, countless other fathers, mothers, siblings, friends, neighbors, teammates, coaches and strangers can respond as I did to my son Braedon, "Yes, I would love to kick!"
Courtesy to Chris Apple
Two decades ago if you were a soccer player growing up in Millersville, Pa., "Let's kick! " or "Do you want to kick?" meant so much more than passing a ball back and forth as my son was now requesting. In our 1980s lexicon for soccer junkies, "to kick" took on a cult-like meaning that was as deep and varied as the characters who engaged in the activity.
The first step was to head over to the Millersville University soccer field, which was conveniently located a quick fence hop from Penn Manor High where most of us went to school.
If you arrived alone, you spent some time juggling and dribbling through mock defenders before drilling shots at the kickboard: a dilapidated structure the size of a regulation goal with peeling green paint.
The "wall" as we called it was a rectangular box with a narrow hollow space in between four plywood walls. Since the wall had no roof, if you hit your shot just wrong, with the appropriate pace and dip, your ball would end up pin-balling back and forth inside the structure and you would have to climb inside for retrieval. If there were several players at the wall, whoever shot the last ball in, had to fish out all of the balls!
Almost always, someone else would show up at the wall to kick. With two or three players your kicking options expanded to partner juggling, "pinging" the ball and serving balls from the flank for your buddies to blast into the wall with volleys, "bikes" and diving headers.
"Pinging it" was a blast. You hit low, driven, flighted balls as hard and as accurately as you could right at your mate and he had to control it and ping it back to you as hard as he could. The goal was to hit the ball so hard that your friend's first touch got away - the closer you were to each other the more fun the challenge.
Mark Colangelo was the master. From 10 yards away he could control my hardest drive with a pillow-soft touch and with a lightning quick second touch he'd bang the ball off my shin, much to the amusement of anyone watching.
When we tired of pinging it, we went back to the wall where one of us would go out to the flank and serve balls to guys making runs into the box. We only sent one runner at a time and soccer balls were usually scarce so you wanted to be extremely efficient with your crosses.
Today it seems like kids are happy to just dump it into the box anywhere. Back then, when a guy three or four years older was making a full speed run to the near post, you felt a heavy responsibility to put it on his head. If you were accurate and consistent, the older guys loved you to go out wide, which was an honor. If you struggled out there, they sent someone else out and gave you the hook.
As good as it felt to be chosen to set the table from the flank, the most fun was being on the receiving end of those crosses. It was not enough to score, you had to finish with style. Diving headers, full-, half- and side-volleys, deft flicks and "bikes" were all on the menu. If you caught a basic bread-and-butter cross that did not immediately lend itself to a gourmet presentation, you added your own bit of flavor to hopefully create an unforgettable dish.
Ground serves were roofed into upper corners or heel-flicked sublimely to the far post. On the rare occasion that a goalkeeper was brave or insane enough to jump in net, you'd have to go for the meg at least once.
We all tried "bikes," but nobody could pull them off like Roy Mehl. Roy was a stocky, powerful player who like Mark, played his college ball at Lock Haven. He missed his fare share like the rest of us, landing in a heap in the dirt. But when he connected, it was like the ball was shot out of a cannon and it would go crashing into the wall. Then he'd stand up, dust himself off and never once change his facial expression from the intense stare that was a constant whenever he played.
Once four players arrived, we could abandon the wall for a spirited game of 3v1. It was our version of the age-old playground game "monkey in the middle" and our goal was to truly make the guy in the middle look like a monkey. Making him run around foolishly flailing and missing was sheer joy and a nutmeg that kept him in for an extra round was ecstasy.
We learned from our elder peers the art of leg blocking, scooping the ball over an outstretched foot, head and shoulder fakes, deceptive glances, behind the leg flicks, supporting shape, defensive work rate and redirecting a pass with one touch while jumping over a flying two-footed tackle. All this without a coach in sight!
Ah, but the best was still to come: when we picked teams and played. By now more people had arrived and we had numbers for a game. Seventh- and eighth-graders were there like Teddy Brubaker and Hans Haverstick (who sadly passed in 2005). Then there was my era of high school guys like Bill Mullins, Matt Allen, Dan Lembo, John Symonds and our dear friend Boyd Lyon, who sadly left us in 2006.
Boyd was the most competitive of a group of hyper-competitive guys. If he ended up in the middle during 3v1 he would chew up the grass with his hard running, violent cuts and crunching tackles.
In pick-up games if you took the ball off him, you knew to play it quickly to a teammate because he was coming after you with a ferocity befitting his last name. Off the field, Boyd was a teddy bear, kind, loyal, always up for a laugh; a wonderful friend. On the field even the older guys hated to play against him and everyone loved to have him on their side.
In addition to our high school group was the older crew; college guys and recent grads like Colangelo, Mehl, Grant Myers, Chris Hoover ('Hoov'), Eric Hurt ('Nike'), Chuck Ducker ('Duck') and Troy Newswanger ('Wang'). We all grew up in the 'Ville, most attending Penn Manor and many going on to play in college.
The pick-up games were always intense. Whether it was 2v2 or 10v10, we played like it was our last day on earth. No one wore shinguards, but that did not prevent us from getting "stuck-in" or "going to ground."
You often hear coaches say "the game is the best teacher" -- it is also the most fun and we absolutely loved it. We kicked for hours every day and we still could not get enough. When it grew dark the guys who were old enough to drive would pull their cars up to the field and turn on their lights so we could get an extra 15-20 minutes in.
No one talked of getting burned-out - what was that? We craved the game like nomads lost on the desert dying of thirst and when we found our life-sustaining elixir, we gulped greedily; we were insatiable.
Little did my son know the spark he was rekindling for his grateful father when he said those three simple words, "Let's kick, Daddy."
"Kicking" was a way of life for us back then. The personalities and the game itself helped form us during our most formative years. I am sure there were countless other little pockets of soccer-playing fanatics creating their own versions of the beautiful game all across America back in the 1980s.
I fear many of these tiny futbol Meccas have died off and it is up to all of us involved in the game to do our best to stave off the extinction of informal soccer and encourage and applaud its renewed growth. So that in the future, countless other fathers, mothers, siblings, friends, neighbors, teammates, coaches and strangers can respond as I did to my son Braedon, "Yes, I would love to kick!"
Courtesy to Chris Apple
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
