Coach Flip Naumburg's Journal

Sunday, May 8, 2005

LATER THAT DAY

ONCE UPON A TIME

Since noon today I have thought often of something that happened to me way back in the late eighties. At the time I was getting back into coaching in California after the "Monastery Years"(1) (see below). I started out coaching (irony of ironies) at UCSB as an assistant and then quickly became the "B" or J.V. coach.

I learned two things right away in my second coaching-go-round, which came almost 10 years after the first (C.C. 1975-78). The first flashing light that came on was that I was not cut out to be a J.V. coach. Why? Because of things like I became resentful when a varsity coach would come snooping around for players. I am the only J.V. coach in America who is not encouraging his players to move on and up. I suppose I had already developed a sense of the strength inside the connection of team, family, and loyalty.

The second head-pounding discovery about my own self was that the level I coached at really did not matter, because my level of passion was always the same, even if the things I was teaching were somewhat different. I liked me when I coached even though I’m quite sure that there were many out there who didn’t (like me when I coached). When I was doing this coach thing hours would go by while feeling like only minutes. All I really knew was that I could never get enough of it, and that in many ways it all felt the same as it did when I was on the field playing. This was something I never could have imagined when I was still playing college lacrosse.

(1.) Footnote - 1978 – 1984. The so-called "Monastery Years" refer to time spent deep in the mountains of Northern New Mexico, living close to the vast Pecos Wilderness area. I lived on property bordering a huge Franciscan monastery-in-the-mountains complex. These sevenish years were sort of like my personal "mission" period you might say, although my mission ranged widely from basic survival techniques like chopping firewood all the way to the cornucopia of hedonism to be found in or near a 1980’s hot tub/spa, which I had. My major activities at the time were learning my craft of woodworking and design, jogging/hiking, and 4-wheeling.

KISS ME CATE

My next foray into the lacrosse coaching waters on the Left Coast was as the J.V. Coach at the very prestigious Cate private preparatory School. They had a very nice little program with three teams and a generally strong emphasis on the sport, particularly for the time and the place. The campus is an absolute California jewel.

Cate was a great place to work. Orange groves cover the rolling and roaming hillsides, and are warmed by the sun’s reflection off of the Pacific waters below. The views from there are majestic, or at least Balboic. This was by far the best coaching JOB I have ever had. They paid me well and took care of doing and supplying me with everything except my ninety minutes, which I was freely encouraged to do my own way. Come to think of it, I was encouraged at pretty much every turn during my time there.

It could have been my first year, or it might have been the second season at Cate. It is not important. We were playing up North on the Monterey Peninsula (Pebble Beach/Seventeen Mile Drive) at the Robert Louis Stevenson School, another Condor league member. This League was made up of these very interesting, very private schools on or near the coast of California. How interesting were they? Well, one of them is adjacent to none other than THE Never Land (Michael Jackson’s place) in Los Olivos, and another is a commune kind of a deal with boys and girls living together in little cabins and stuff like that. When I was there they used a cowbell instead of a horn for game substitutions.

Anyway, it rains all winter long in Monterey, and the field at RLS was always a mud hole. This was just part of the natural charm I suppose.

We, the J.V. always played after the varsity for some reason. I loved that. The varsity had just beaten their chief league rival, RLS of course, to win the Condor League and end the season undefeated. Now, it was our turn to try and accomplish the same thing.

Moving ahead to further action, we join our hero late in the fourth quarter, and we (Cate j.v.) were leading by a score of 4-3 with only minutes left in the game. Our best player had just scored a goal to make it 5-3. I say he was our best player only because he could catch the ball fairly regularly. He was also lazy and not the one that was busy every minute trying to make himself better like the one with the prosthetic leg was. I digress. The talented one of course had rather a more bored-by-it-all attitude. If you told me this kid’s name right now that would be nice, but I’m sure it would ring no bells. There was a hitch to this big goal he had just scored, however. It may have been muddy and all, but I was younger and not yet blind, and the kid clearly had both feet well inside the crease when he scored the goal. With no hesitation in thought or action I immediately waved the goal off, telling the refs that it was not a goal, because he was standing inside of the crease at the time, a definite rule no-no. They (refs) looked at me like I was nuts. My team looked at me like I was nuts. All the parents from both teams looked at me like I was nuts. I finally found out what it took to get a rise out of goal scoring kid, too, as he actually became semi-livid when he realized what had happened, and what I had done. Then the people on the other sideline started to razz me. What was up with that?

So, what was the next thing to happen? You got it, they (RLS) scored the goal to make it 4-4, and eventually that would land us in overtime. Goals don’t come that quickly sometimes in J.V. High School lacrosse, but that one sure did. The RLS fans were really all over me now. They should have been getting my address to send me thank you notes, but they heckled me instead. God only knows what my team and their perfect parents were thinking of me after the possibility of losing had reared its ugly head in a heartbeat. As we waited for the next face-off I looked up, and I asked quietly if this was the answer to my question. I probably had recently watched the movie "Cool Hand Luke" with Paul Newman on the midnight movie or whatever.

So it was on to overtime. I knew the dreaded tie game was now a distinct possibility. They wouldn’t let us play too long, as we faced the long 5-hour bus ride home to Carpinteria.

Inside the next series of events something wonderful happened, and it changed my life. It put me on a path that I have tried with all my heart and all my might to stay on. First, one of the opposition players had the overtime opportunity of his or any lifetime. He picked up the ball in front of our goal, no problem. At that instant there was nothing but kid and goal and mud. Our goalie and his defensemen were nowhere to be found. Kid only had to put ball in net. It was there for him like it was a piece of trash in his hand and he was sitting on top of a dumpster. Yet he somehow could not finish. Was it divine intervention? I know not, but I can see the picture of it all in my head like it just happened last week.

A minute or so later, the very same kid who had scored the 5th goal I had taken away from us earlier scored the 5th and winning goal (again) on virtually the same play as the other one, only this time he was well outside of the crease. Everyone went wild. For a J.V. High School game the emotions were way high that wet afternoon in February. It was a lovely bus ride home in the rain, and we (J.V.) had gained a newly found respect from the Varsity while we were at it. My little J.V. team had shone (shown) true cajones that day.

My first reaction after the kid scored that game winner was not to run and hug anyone. I simply looked up (again) and I said, "Thank you", and then I stopped for a second right where I was, and I swore by all that was holy, whatever that means, that I would always try to look at the biggest possible picture. I would try to always do the right thing.

On that particular day almost 17 or whatever years ago I was validated and I had the answers to all my little questions within minutes. There was a happy ending for that movie. I am afraid that any such validation for the decision I made today can never be quite as quick or as "cut and dried". Too many things can never be recovered. All that I feel right now about this situation is sadness. Just the same, I did try to do the right thing today, and in my humble opinion of myself, that differs not from every other day of my life.

BANQUET

Within hours of deciding where and when to meet this afternoon, Ali Baba had his forty something thieves up to the house at 8:00, and we did indeed have a meeting and banquet. I love these guys.

We collectively cried and we pontificated our points of view while all together tonight. We were so unified. We could all share the pain and somehow it all hurt perhaps a little less, even as emotions openly showed and flowed. The power we felt as a team together tonight would not allow for us to feel sorry for ourselves. There was no anger in the room.

FORGIVE AND REMEMBER

As we talked we forgave from our hearts, and we vowed to remember. We elected MVP’s and Captains, too, choosing as one new captain for next year, Pete Jokisch (#3), a type of captain that we have never had. He is the first goalie I have ever allowed to be elected Captain. See, I don’t just get older? I still have the capacity for change. I am going to go out and work with a few players tomorrow, because tomorrow will really be the first day of the rest of my life, and I can't wait to get on with it.

BORED AND BOARDED

In this process of being brought in front of boards, and talking to board members that I could not see on the phone I still learned plenty about a few of my MDIA coaching bretheren. I especially could "see" and hear the people who immediately took the "cut and dried, hang 'em high" road before they knew anything about facts and details of our case, and I will remember that as much as I will remember anything.

TALE OF WOE

The following is an email I just sent to the team:

Dear Team:

I apologize for what I am about to tell you. I have withdrawn our appeal to be reinstated to the MDIA National Championships as of 12:00 noon on Sunday. We will not be going as a team to Minnesota. You are free to use your tickets and stay at our hotel. I will not be going.

By withdrawing our appeal, the weight of action falls upon me. That is the person who needed to take action, though, and he (I) did. I did not want our fate to be determined by a ruling of some board. There is no way for that scenario to end up pretty in Blaine. You know it, I know it, and so does everyone who cares about all this.

I am also sorry to tell you this, but in my heart I know we are wrong on this issue. The rules are simply stated in terms of eligibility, and we clearly broke them twice. I can not go to Minnesota with a strong heart and high hopes under these circumstances. I am not interested in technicalities in the registrar's office, or whether this is our first offense or not. I do not want to be compared to Santa Barbara and their misdeeds of last year either. I just want us to always do the right thing. That's who I am, and that is why there are tears dried on my cheek right now

The plane leaves at 10:40 a.m. Frontier #102
I have confirmation info for hotel and vans. Someone will need to come and get that stuff from me.

There has been talk of a banquet anyway. Maybe tomorrow.

Nothing can ever change our family and how I feel about all of you.

Love, Coach

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