‘Will I have a fair chance?’
It was the summer of 2002, and we were looking to add two goalies in the incoming class. Our first choice was Bud Petit, the U.S. U19 team member. We offered the second spot to Kip Turner, and we were forthright about the situation. He was not especially pleased and asked to think about it through the weekend.
“I have one question,” Kip said when we spoke next. “Will I have a fair chance when I get there?”
I assured Kip that he would have 40 teammates who would be certain that we played the best goalie. Kip sat behind Tillman Johnson for a year and then started the next three seasons, including the 2006 undefeated national championship season. To his great credit, Bud did not make it into the lineup until his fifth year, when he carried the 2008 team to the national semifinals.
‘You are going to have to trust us’
We struggled with issues on and off the field in 2004, and the common assumption would have been to crack down hard in 2005. Junior defenseman Mike Culver came into my office to talk following the 2004 season and surprised me with his assertion.
“Coach, you are going to have to trust us,” he said.
When I assured Mike that the price for my trust would be more severe consequences for any transgressions, he was fully prepared to bear that responsibility. I do not recall a single issue during those two years, and we played some of the finest lacrosse in the game’s history.
‘I am going to take care of this for you’
Here is an example of the unspoken language of leadership: It was the fall of 2008, and our returning attack included Danny Glading and Garrett Billings. We needed one of our talented incoming attackmen, Steele Stanwick and Chris Bocklet, both natural righties, to play on their left-handed side in their first year. I mentioned that to both Steele and Chris early in the summer before their arrival. They could help the team and get on the field quicker if they could manage on the left side.
On the first rep of the first drill of the first fall practice, Steele jump into the front of the left-handed line for a 3v2 drill coming off the end line. I swear it may have been the first ball I ever saw him shoot. He dropped his hands and ripped it low to high in the upper corner. He sort of looked over at me and without saying a word, his body language screamed, “I am going to take care of this for you.”
Steele scored close to 40 goals that year, and I will bet that 35 were left-handed.
‘I know that was hard for you’
Finally, there was one game to go in our 2011 regular season. Our record was 7-5, we had just been clobbered in consecutive games, our best defenseman was recovering from season-ending surgery and I had just dismissed two of our leading players from the team. I was concerned that we were closer to disarray than to the NCAA playoffs.
Two days before our final regular season game against an NCAA tournament-bound Penn team, senior captain Bray Malphrus came to me to affirm, “I know how hard that was for you Coach (the dismissals). We are ready to go.”
We went on to beat Penn and win the NCAA championship with more regular season losses than any team that had ever won the title. Along with Steele and John Haldy, Bray provided one of the great demonstrations of athletic leadership.
‘Give it to someone who needs it more’
Here is one for the parents: Usually you make a scholarship offer before a young man commits to college. When one of our top recruits committed before we made our offer, I went on to tell him, “And, oh, by the way, here is what we have in mind for your partial scholarship.”
I received a text message later that evening from his mother, who said she needed to talk with me the next day. “Uh oh!” I thought. But then she called to say, “Dom, we have been blessed. We don’t need the scholarship. Please give it to someone on the team who needs it more.”
These are the memories that live on for me. These are the stories that I retell, that changed my life. The championships and the games have been breathtaking. At the same time, it is these very real moments that fill up your soul.
Our thoughts and prayers are with Mike Schambach and his family.