C.S. Lewis, one of last century’s most influential and prolific Christian authors, in writing about tithing said that if it doesn’t impinge upon one’s lifestyle, then he isn’t giving enough. The giving of money to the work of the Lord, he said, should involve some sacrifice.

How many of us have ever started a practice, game or even a season without a plan? To me, that idea doesn’t make any sense whatsoever. As coaches, we have plans coming out our ears! As a coach, I started working on next season just as soon as the current one was over. After all, I had to recruit in-coming freshman and encourage the returning athletes to come back. The last thing I wanted was for them to lose interest in being part of the team.

I’m such a pack rat. Over the years I’ve saved so many coaching plans, even ones for sports I’ve never coached. You never know when you’ll be the head coach of a new sport someday, right? You just have to be ready at a moment’s notice.

Many of us learned the “Jesus Loves Me” song as children, but the last part always bothered me: ”Jesus loves me! This I know, for the Bible tells me so. Little ones to Him belong; They are weak but He is strong.” To me, displaying weakness seemed to contradict the very goal of competition.

As I was learning to compete in athletics, the idea of embracing weakness seemed ridiculous. I thought that I had to renounce all that I had learned in the gym in order to become weak. I mean, who has ever been chosen for a team for being the weakest player? Who breaks into a starting lineup because she is weaker than her teammates? I wanted to be strong and display that power for anyone who cared to watch.

One of my favorite things about John Wooden’s coaching was that he taught his players each year to put on their socks and tie their shoes properly. You’d think college-aged athletes could already do this, but Wooden took nothing for granted. He paid attention to the little things, which made the big things come more easily for his teams over the years.

Of course, Coach Wooden wanted to teach his players a lesson: If they were going to play in his program, they had to put aside what they wanted to do and follow his plans for the team. That discipline in the small things gave his teams great results, as they won 10 national championships and set an example for the rest of us how the little things make the biggest difference.

As I was driving to work this morning, I was forced to constantly keep changing the radio station. All anyone could or would talk about was my beloved Kansas Jayhawks’ loss to VCU yesterday in the NCAA men’s basketball tournament. And I just did not want to hear it.

For college basketball fans across the country, March is a bittersweet month. Because there is only one national champion at the end of the season, the vast majority of us have to end the season on some sort of losing note. And we always wind up consoling ourselves with the common thought, “Well, there’s always next year.”

All coaches want to make that perfect play call. That play that will be a guaranteed score. The play that there is just no stopping. And every athlete wants to be the one who runs the perfect play.

As athletes, your coach may tell you to visualize running every play perfectly. You might spend those pre-game moments alone in a quiet area just watching the game play out in your mind. And every one of us sees the same game play through our heads. . . The game is tied, and it is up to us to make the winning shot. We have the ball at the end of the game, and only the perfect play will win it all. Well, we all know that there is no perfect play. Things come up. Things usually don't go exactly how we planned.

Over the past two weeks, I have been listening to the guys on ESPN and the NFL shows give their two cents on the rules they’re going to enforce involving vicious hitting in pro football. The argument seems to be that violent collisions are occurring way too often and are being done with the intent to hurt a player, not just separate the man from the ball.