Maybe it’s my athletic background as a player and as a coach, but there is  something in me that dislikes the word quit. Of course, at one time or another in our lives, we have all had to face that word in choices we have made. There will always be difficult circumstances in life—some so bad that it is hard to see an answer. It is at those moments that we are faced with the alternative of quitting. The world would make that choice easy, asking,“If you don’t like the way things are going, why don’t you just quit?” It applies to our marriages, our relationships, our jobs, and even to our faith.

Legendary coach John Wooden coined a phrase “competitive greatness,” striving to be the best we can, not trying to be the best.

Five-time All-Pro Green Bay Packers lineman Jerry Kramer played from 1958 to 1968. In 1959, Jerry wanted to quit until one day Coach Vince Lombardi told Jerry he could become the greatest lineman in the NFL. Jerry decided to give 100 percent and became one of the greatest. He understood competitive greatness.

Coach Wooden defined competitive greatness as a real love for hard battle, knowing it offers the opportunity to be at our best when our best is required. These three concepts help me grasp competitive greatness:

We coach human beings, not robots. Each player has needs and hurts that must be met and healed. When players know we care about them as people rather than simply players who perform for us, they will respond positively.

Head coaches, though, sometimes find it difficult to get close to players. We must be “the heavy” in many situations, and not every player will like our decisions, even when we are confident our choice is the best thing. One way to smooth over this type of pressure is to encourage assistants to be involved as well; athletes need to know there is someone they can go to when the head coach is not their first choice. It’s our job as coaches to care for our players, regardless of how they’ve performed.

Think about a team—maybe a school team or one’s family as a team. How many people are on a team? Are they all the same? Do they look alike? act alike? think alike? Probably not, but they are still a cohesive unit of one. On a team, what are the roles of each person and position? In football, what if everyone were the quarterback? What would get accomplished? In soccer, what if everyone were the goalie? How would that play out?

My very first day of coaching high school girls’ tennis fell on a hot August afternoon. As our practice was about to end, the only thing left was the distance run. I had my stopwatch ready to call out the time of each player as she finished. I knew this was going to be tough that first day; nobody was in great shape at the end of the summer after too many afternoons spent lying on the couch in air-conditioning.

After our fastest runner crossed the finish line, she immediately turned around to see how far back the other players were and saw one young player far behind everyone else. Without hesitating she sprinted back to that last runner and began to run alongside her for the last leg. Our fastest runner did not want anyone to have to finish last or alone.

In today’s society, students and student athletes need role models more than ever, and as Christian coaches we are called to fulfill that position. We need men and women to embrace the fact that God has placed us in such a valuable role
in a child’s life.

What is your most powerful athletic tool? Is it the strength of your bench press, the drive from your leg squats, or your speed and agility? These are all important, but I think the most powerful tool is simply the ball. Think about it. Who is the most dangerous person in basketball? The man with the ball. The ball is needed to score—to win! Without the ball, Tiger Woods is just Eldrick; Michael Vick, just Mike; and Rocket Clemens, just Roger. It is what’s done with the ball that makes champions.

Often it seems like life itself is a race—a rat race that sucks away time while I grasp at minutes in desperation. I’m an endurance athlete; I train for hours to shave seconds off my race time. I’m a busy American. Another paycheck will come, but each moment, once past, is gone forever. Time is my best friend and my fiercest enemy; it is my greatest challenge. At least it was until my husband re-worded his financial motto from “It ain’t our money,” to “It ain’t our time.”

As my foot touched the line for what seemed like the 1,000th time that practice my mind sank into a deep misery. “Why are we doing this?” I thought. “My legs feel like rocks! This is torture!” Whether you’re an athlete who knows this battle or a coach who knows how frustrating it can be to motivate your players, I think we’ve all forgotten the “why” at times when enduring the hardships of athletics.

As athletes, we know we have to train hard to be any good. Everyone is more capable in one area of their sport than others. Most of sport is taken up in training, where one assesses and develops skills. We may know people whose talent seems to come effortlessly; but to be at the top, we need to exert a lot of effort. Great athletes measure their skills and work hard to improve both their strengths and weaknesses. Maybe we are strong but slow, have great hand-eye coordination but are too cautious. We have good upper-body strength but are prone to leg injuries. Athletes push themselves meticulously because they have a goal and desire to accomplish it.

I remember as a child, my school bus would arrive at an early time. Once I saw the bus coming, I would walk to the end of our lane and get on it. I didn’t have to wave my arms or plead for the driver to stop. I didn’t have to beg the driver, make payment, or qualify to get on that bus. I just walked up three steps, went to the back, and sat down. I never worried about the ability of the bus to transport me, nor was I concerned about finding a seat. I didn’t think about the bus being mechanically safe or the driver being certified. All I had to do was get on. If the bus driver asked me to sit down or stop throwing things, I did. He knew what was best for me, was concerned about my safety, and was determined to help me reach my destination.