The Season: Part Ten

What do we measure success by? How, as Christians, do we look at a tennis season, or anything else for that matter, and say that God has blessed us? When I get to the end of a season, what will make me proud as I look back?

It can't be wins and losses. If it's wins and losses then there is a lot that I am not proud of throughout my history as a coach. If it's only wins and losses, then I am still fuming over the East Noble regional loss, the Concord loss, the Westview loss, even the Northridge loss. But I'm not.

The thing with wins and losses is that they are quantifiable. They are a safe and standard measure. That's why churches compare themselves to one another by looking at how many people are attending. Isn't the important thing about a church the way that they are responding to the teaching and following God? So what do numbers have to do with that. It's the same with wins and losses. They are measures of our talent, okay, I can agree with that. But is talent the same as success. I answer with a certain no.

So what measures success? I find that I look at success in two ways, and they have to do with reasons that I coach. The first measure is memories, the second is relationships.

I'm a story teller, come into any of my classes and you'll hear me telling stories of friends, family, and my life. I value new stories and new experiences. Tennis provides those for me. But the memories, the stories also provide opportunities to think about the nature of reality, the nature of life. And I find that since God is the ultimate creator of all reality, all the stories point to God. They all speak in some way of the nature of God or the world that God created.

This season answered the memories measure like none before. And some of these stories are inspiring and amazing.

The Penn match we rolled into with a record of 13-4. We had lost some heartbreakingly close matches to Westview and Concord the week before. Pulling into the school parking lot was an experience in itself. It had the feel of a small college campus, not the quaint old high school building we were used to. On the field next to the tennis courts, we walked by the Ultimate Frisbee club team practicing on one of the many practice fields available to the Penn mass of students. One of the them called to us that their team was awesome and we had no chance of winning. "They're going to destroy you," he said. I have to admit, with the massive nature of the school, the Penn team, their tradition, I thought that he was going to be right. Plus, I thought maybe God was going to smite me for my earlier pride in declaring that we would beat Penn this year.

But we warmed up and did our normal routine. The Penn players swarmed around in what seemed like disarray to me and I decided to use the atmosphere of distraction as a reason to focus all of our players. I remember exactly what I said as I gathered them together. "Penn is an excellent team. But each one of you has played against a better player at your position this year. There is nothing to be afraid of." Then the craziest thing happened: Everybody believed me. We went out playing like there was nothing to lose. I was so excited as I watched our doubles teams demolish their opponents in the first set, and so proud to watch their excitement as the pumped their fists, let out screams of encouragement and accomplishment. I watched as Luke gave perhaps the best player he played all year as much as he could handle. Watched as Jonny outstroked a similar opponent. Watched as the JV players pulled off many close wins to seal their undefeated season. When the match ended, I was glowing. I wanted to share the joy with everyone.

But what we soon learn with these memories is this: The only people who care are those who have the relational bond of the tennis team. My wife was somewhat happy, the athletic director Bryan was impressed, my friends at church smiled, but no one felt the deep joy that I had like the rest of the team. And that is why the relationships I have with all of the team is so important. I have a place to share my life, especially my tennis life, because I have a group of brothers who is experiencing the same thing.

And the experiences grew. One week and one day after the Penn victory we stood on the cold courts of Goshen High School seeking the first Sectional crown in Bethany history. It was so cold we could see our breath. The whole season had been nice weather and as we warmed up for our biggest match of the season, our sweat began to steam off our bodies. I told the guys that this was the setting that memories were made out of. Then we went out and played the worst tennis we've played all season. We were so tentative, we played like we hoped we didn't lose instead of wanting to win.

In that match, it became obvious to me that the whole season was coming down to one single position, two doubles. And when they went down 1-5 in the third set, I almost began to cry. It seemed so unfair to me that someone would work as hard as Daniel, care as much as Mikey, only to see the dream crumble in their hands. I really hope that they weren't thinking about this big picture while they competed, but I certainly was. And so I started praying. And I started waving. We'd been talking about prayer all year long, and blessings, and so I combined the two. "Lord, bless these two guys. They've worked so hard, they've put in so much time. The blessing would be to let them play that way, to eat the fruits of their labor." Again and again I paced behind Daniel and Mikey's court praying and waving my hands toward them, "Lord, bless. Lord, bless." Then with more urgency, "C'mon, Lord, bless these guys." And they started to come back, and they kept coming back, and then they entered a tiebreaker to decide the team match.

A little bit of back history, Mikey and Daniel had never won any tiebreakers. They always lost in matches, except in the previous week they had defeated Assistant Coach Andrew Lanctot and Russell Klassen in a tiebreaker at the end of the first set. Daniel had said then, "I guess we can win tiebreakers." As we stood and watched the fate of the Sectional, I thought back to that first tiebreak win and hoped that they would draw confidence from it, and win their first tiebreak ever in a real match.

Of course, if you read the banner at the top of the website, they did win the match. My favorite memory from the tiebreak is them being up 6-2 and Mikey double-faulting trying to pound in an ace for the victory. I like it because it was so aggressive. Man alive, the blessings flowed then.

But it wasn't the end of the story. I almost wish it was, because it was the climax. Oh, we played awesome in the afternoon and took it to NorthWood, lifted the Sectional trophy and went to El Camino to celebrate. But it was anti-climatic. And then the season ended on Tuesday, in another tiebreak.

I don't want to get into all the specifics because we are losing space for this post. But Daniel and Mikey were twice put into a tiebreak to win our first round Regional match for the team, and twice they failed. Jonny Shenk had a chance at a third set for the same prize, but came up short. But that memory to me is just as sweet as any other, and maybe tells of the success of this team more than any other.

After the match, there were no words. There were tears and there was a gathering of the team on the court. And they looked to me, and I said something about being proud. Because I was. We stood together and didn't say anything. We couldn't look at each other because we knew what was happening. This was the end of the season. We would never share the same experiences again. Looking into the face of each senior, it felt like we were all breaking up. That tearing in your stomach, that sense of longing for the way things used to be, that desperation to go back and do something over again.

This recap of the season has been my way of trying to relive it again. Trying to learn from the memories again. Trying to hold onto the relationships that I've formed, that are bound to go different ways as the seniors go to college and I stay here and joyously get to coach the underclassmen again. And build into those relationships more and more. But I treasure the times in the hall where any one of the team stops and talks to me. I treasure the letters I get to write to the colleges the seniors want to attend. I treasure hearing about Jared's bowling team experience, or Mikey's last second tip-in in the basketball game, or Seth's continued tennis lessons, or Austin's weight loss accomplishments, or Matthew's articles in the Reflector, or Johnny's college plans, or whatever and whatever, etc.

I care. The season was a success because I care and I can tell you why. "The Season" gave me memories I can always share with you, my brothers and friends.