This story initially appeared on Behind the Whistle, the official blog of the IWLCA, and is being republished with permission from the organization. Brittany Hartmann is the head coach at Pacific University.
Fall 2018. It is the end of Week 1 at my new position, and the nerves are finally wearing off. I don’t have to pinch myself to prove that it is real.
I am back at my alma mater, working two full-time positions (teaching high school and coaching lacrosse). I am flat out exhausted as we wrap up practice, yet excited to even have this opportunity. I ask my players if they need anything from me, one of them jokingly yells, “Just some love and support, Coach!” Little did I know how much of an impact that simple phrase would have on my team, my values and my life as a coach. It quickly became a mantra for our team as we went through the road untraveled. Just some love and support.
ANXIETY IS REAL
Spring 2019. It is the middle of a conference game. We have 15 athletes on the roster; three have season-ending injuries. One of my athletes — who should be an attacker but is playing midfield, because … no subs — comes off the field and cannot breathe. After a brief analysis, I realize that she is having a panic attack. We are the away team, so we do not have an athletic trainer present.
I look at my assistant coach (none other than the bada$$, Thuy Williams) and tell her, “Coach the team and give us a second.” I usher my player behind the bench during the middle of the game to help her focus on reality, breathing and calming her heart rate down. Sometimes, working through anxiety and being there for your athlete is more important than a lacrosse game, even if we must play a person down (Division III life ... IYKYK). Just some love and support.
JOLLY RANCHERS
Spring 2020. It is three days before spring break, and our athletic director pops up on my incoming calls. I know what is coming because cancellations are sweeping across the country. I answer and my worst fears come true: the season is over. Together, our coaching staff and administration tell the team with tears welling in our eyes. Thirty minutes later, I see a group of my athletes (mostly seniors) sitting in the grass outside my office. Their body language is defeated and distraught.
I grab a bag of jolly ranchers from my desk and go out to sit with them. We all cry and eat them in silence. My heart is broken. For once in my life, I have no answers and no solutions. But we sit there together anyway trying to feel and process our emotions. Just some love and support.
LATE NIGHT EMAILS
Fall 2021. It is 1:30 a.m. I am wide awake, not sleeping due to the many heavy stressors weighing on my mind and heart. My phone buzzes. Unable to turn my mind off to ignore it and against my better judgment, I open my email. In my inbox, I find an email from a name that I had not heard in over a year. A former recruit that went on to play at a higher division. In it, she discusses how a memory from one of our recruiting events popped up on her Snapchat flashback. She reminisces on how much fun she used to have playing lacrosse and finishes the email with the following:
“Thank you for all the times you made me feel like you believed in me when I didn’t feel like doing the same for myself. I feel endlessly grateful to have built a relationship with a coach like you, and I hope you are doing well.”
Cue me, instantly sobbing in the middle of the night while trying to stay silent to allow my wife to sleep soundly next to me. Talk about a punch straight to the heart. This kid, who I met maybe 10 times total, barely even knows me, and yet the impact I had on her clearly carries on. The next morning, I text her to check in because she is clearly struggling and needs an unbiased person to listen. Just some love and support.