I was not a player

Let’s get this over with right now. I have never played in an organized volleyball program.

Nope, never. I went to college to play basketball and baseball and ended up playing baseball and golf. Well, I played each for one season only. Big mistake.

So why should anyone take what I say seriously? It’s all about perspective.

In 1981, Coach Wilkerson found me sitting on the hallway floor in Neff Hall at IPFW waiting for one of my masters classes. She asked me if I wanted the job as her assistant coach in her volleyball program. My response was, “I don’t know anything about volleyball.” She didn’t care.

She knew I was a coach - basketball at a different school - and she was desperate. She also knew the the extra $1,000 was a welcome addition to a third-year teacher. I think that broke my contract through the $12,000 mark for the year.

To my point, after I worked out the scheduling with the head coach of the basketball program for whom I was working, I knew I had some work to do. Remember, at this time I couldn’t just pick up my iPhone and search Google or YouTube for information on coaching volleyball. I had to get every book I could find on teaching and coaching volleyball.

I also understood the one rule in teaching unfamiliar material, I must at least appear more knowledgeable than the students. I spent hours paging through the books I could find. I was determined that all of those girls would think I knew what I was doing.

“I don’t know anything about volleyball.”

I also knew that the freshman girls - Coach Wilkerson wisely didn’t trust me with the reserve team - were not very good. I didn’t think it would take much to convince them of my "genius.” I also knew that if we as a team focused on breaking down the skills and perfecting them, I could point the girls to small successes regardless of the outcomes of the matches. So we focused on passing, passing, and passing.

I observed other coaches, went to clinics, read books, and used trial-and-error in practice to fool them all. I convinced the girls that the only thing on which we measured success was how well we passed.

“Don’t worry about that score girls. We passed well but need to keep working on it.”

Luckily they bought it and had no idea that the reason we didn’t work on much else in practice was because I had no idea how to teach the other stuff. At that time, I didn’t fully understand what other stuff existed.

I have spent my entire volleyball coaching career with the realization that I am at a disadvantage when it comes to certain aspects of the dynamics of what happens when the whistle blows and the competition begins. Someone who has played at a high level may have a better feel for the flow of the game, where her eyes should be focused on defense, or what an opponent may be thinking during an attack. I acknowledge that.

However, because I came to understand the game from a completely skill-focused perspective rather than a player’s perspective, I have developed the ability to teach volleyball rather than just play volleyball. I may not be able to hit a quick tempo ball, but I can sure as hell teach you how to do it.

For the vast majority of young players having a teacher of the game is much more important than having a player of the game be in charge of her future on the volleyball court. If you are lucky enough to find someone who can do both, you have coaching gold.