Introduction: Transforming Athletic Performance Through Faith and Connection
Fear is the silent killer of potential. It whispers doubts, creates barriers, and prevents athletes from achieving their true capabilities. Throughout my four decades as a track and field coach at Mountain Brook High School, I discovered that the most powerful antidote to fear is not discipline, not punishment, but faith – faith in oneself, faith in teammates, and faith in something greater than our immediate circumstances.
Relational Coaching emerged from my understanding that athletic performance is fundamentally a human experience. It’s not about creating machines or enforcing rigid systems, but about understanding the complex emotional and spiritual landscape of each athlete. Fear manifests in countless ways – fear of failure, fear of disappointing others, fear of not being good enough. These fears can paralyze even the most talented athletes, preventing them from reaching their true potential.
Faith, in contrast, is transformative. When athletes learn to replace fear with genuine belief – in themselves, in their training, in their purpose – remarkable things happen. This faith isn’t about blind optimism, but about a deep, grounded confidence that comes from understanding one’s inherent worth and potential.
For many of my athletes, this faith was deeply connected to their spiritual beliefs. I discovered that athletes who could connect their athletic pursuits to a higher purpose – whether through religious faith or a broader sense of personal meaning – demonstrated extraordinary resilience and motivation. This didn’t mean imposing religious doctrine, but rather creating space for athletes to explore and express their personal understanding of faith.
The principles of Relational Coaching are built on this fundamental belief in transforming fear into faith:
- Trust is the foundation of all growth
- Understanding individual motivations is crucial
- Faith can overcome seemingly insurmountable fears
- Holistic development matters more than athletic performance
- Genuine relationships are the most powerful coaching tool
Throughout this book, I’ll share stories that illustrate how faith can systematically dismantle fear. These aren’t just athletic anecdotes, but profound human journeys of transformation. Each story demonstrates how helping young people shift from a fear-based mindset to a faith-driven perspective can unlock extraordinary potential.
My approach wasn’t about creating champion athletes, but about helping young people become resilient, confident individuals who understand their own worth. The track was simply our training ground for life’s broader challenges.
As you read these stories, I invite you to reflect on your own experiences with fear and faith. Where have you allowed fear to limit your potential? What beliefs could help you transcend those limitations? Relational Coaching is ultimately about recognizing that our greatest barriers are often internal, and our most powerful resources are the beliefs we choose to embrace.
The journey from fear to faith is not a linear path. It’s messy, complicated, and deeply personal. But it is also the most transformative journey an athlete – or any person – can undertake.
Are you ready to explore how faith can systematically dismantle fear and unlock extraordinary human potential?
Chapter 1: The Kiss That Changed Everything
As I reflect on my four decades as the track and field coach at Mountain Brook High School, one story stands out as the moment I truly understood the power of what I now call “Relational Coaching.” It involves a talented but inconsistent runner named Jim and a girl named Linda.
Jim was always held back by his fear of disappointing his father. No matter how much I talked about scholarships or personal bests, Jim couldn’t shake this fear. His performances were erratic, and he often fell short of his potential in big meets. I knew Jim had the talent to be one of our top runners, but something was holding him back.
It wasn’t until I took the time to really get to know Jim that I discovered the root of his struggles. Jim’s father had been a star athlete in his day, and Jim felt an immense pressure to live up to that legacy. This fear was paralyzing him, keeping him from reaching his full potential.
Then, during one of our conversations, Jim mentioned a girl named Linda. His eyes lit up when he talked about her, and I could see that his feelings for Linda were a source of joy and excitement for him. That’s when an idea struck me.
At the state championship meet, Jim was having another disappointing performance. He was running in 37th place, far below where he should have been based on his abilities. During the race, I pulled Jim aside and told him I’d arranged for Linda to give him a kiss if he finished in the top 25.
The change in Jim was immediate and dramatic. Suddenly, he found a burst of energy he never knew he had. He started passing other runners, moving up through the pack with a determination I’d never seen from him before. By the end of the race, Jim had finished 24th, just making it into the top 25.
True to my word (and thanks to a quick conversation with Linda before the race), Linda gave Jim a kiss on the bus ride home. The team erupted in cheers, and Jim’s face was beaming with pride and joy.
But the real transformation came in the weeks and months that followed. Jim’s motivation had shifted from fear of his father’s disappointment to faith in his own abilities and the joy of pursuing something he truly wanted. His performances became more consistent, and he began to enjoy running in a way he never had before.
This experience taught me a valuable lesson about the power of understanding what truly motivates each individual athlete. It’s not always about the sport itself – sometimes, the motivation comes from a much more personal place. By taking the time to know Jim as a person, not just as an athlete, I was able to help him find a source of motivation that was stronger than his fears.
Now, I want to be clear – this isn’t about manipulation or using external rewards as a constant motivator. The kiss from Linda was a temporary bridge that helped Jim discover his own potential. After that race, Jim’s confidence soared, and he began to run for himself, not out of fear of disappointing others or hope of impressing them.
This story marked a turning point in my coaching career. I realized that my role extended far beyond teaching physical skills or tactics. I was in a unique position to impact young lives, to help shape not just athletes, but well-rounded individuals. It was the beginning of what I now call “Relational Coaching” – an approach that puts the human element at the center of athletic development.
From that point on, I made it a priority to really get to know each of my athletes. I wanted to understand their fears, their dreams, and what truly motivated them. This approach not only led to better athletic performances but also helped my athletes develop important life skills that would serve them well beyond their time on the track.
The story of Jim and Linda became a sort of legend on our team, a reminder of the power of faith over fear. It taught all of us – coaches and athletes alike – that when we believe in ourselves and find joy in what we’re doing, we’re capable of achieving things we never thought possible.
As I continued to develop this approach over the years, I saw countless other examples of how understanding an athlete’s personal motivations could lead to breakthroughs on and off the track. But that kiss on the bus ride home will always stand out in my memory as the moment when I truly understood the transformative power of Relational Coaching.
Chapter 2: The Summer That Changed Everything
In the world of high school track and field, summer training can make or break a team’s success in the upcoming season. But at Mountain Brook High School, we took a different approach that not only led to athletic success but also helped shape our athletes into responsible, self-motivated individuals.
It was the summer of 2013, and I had been coaching at Mountain Brook for over three decades. We had already established ourselves as a powerhouse in Alabama track and field, with multiple state championships under our belt. But I knew that to maintain our success and truly make a lasting impact on our athletes, we needed to do something different.
That summer, I implemented a new approach to our training program. Instead of mandatory daily practices with a rigid schedule, I decided to put the responsibility in the hands of the athletes themselves. Starting June 1st, I would meet with the team five days a week, offering a menu of workouts ranging from distance runs to hill repeats. But here’s the twist: I only required each athlete to attend at least 10 practices over the entire summer.
This approach raised some eyebrows among other coaches and even some parents. They worried that without strict oversight, the athletes wouldn’t put in the necessary work. But I had faith in our team and in the principles of Relational Coaching that I had been developing over the years.
I remember sitting down with our girls’ 4×400 relay team at the beginning of that summer. Instead of dictating their workout plan, I explained the principles behind effective training. We talked about the importance of consistency, the balance between hard work and recovery, and how to listen to their bodies.
“Girls,” I said, “I’m not going to force you to be here every day. But I want you to understand why each workout matters and how it contributes to your overall performance. This summer, you’re going to learn how to be your own coaches.”
The team looked at me with a mix of excitement and uncertainty. They were used to being told exactly what to do and when to do it. This new freedom was both liberating and a little scary.
Over the next few weeks, I watched as the girls began to take ownership of their training. They started showing up not because they had to, but because they wanted to. They would discuss workout options among themselves, making informed decisions about what their bodies needed each day.
One day, I overheard a conversation between two of the relay team members, Sarah and Emily. Sarah was feeling particularly tired and was considering skipping the day’s workout. But Emily, instead of pressuring her to train, asked thoughtful questions about how Sarah had been sleeping and eating. They ended up deciding together that Sarah would do a light recovery run while Emily tackled a more intense workout.
This kind of peer support and decision-making was exactly what I had hoped to see. The girls were not just blindly following a training plan; they were learning to understand their bodies, support each other, and make informed choices about their training.
As the summer progressed, I noticed a change in the team’s attitude. They came to practices energized and focused. They asked more questions, eager to understand the “why” behind each workout. And perhaps most importantly, they started to see the connection between their summer work and their goals for the upcoming season.
One particularly hot Alabama day in July, I watched as the relay team pushed through a grueling hill workout. The temperature was well over 90 degrees, and the humidity was oppressive. In previous years, I might have had to constantly encourage (or even force) the team to complete such a challenging session. But that day, the girls attacked the hills with a determination I had never seen before.
After the workout, as the team was catching their breath and rehydrating, one of the girls, Melissa, approached me. “Coach,” she said, wiping sweat from her brow, “I think I understand now why we do these hill workouts. It’s not just about getting stronger physically, is it? It’s about proving to ourselves that we can do hard things.”
I couldn’t help but smile. Melissa had hit the nail on the head. These summer workouts were about so much more than just physical preparation. They were about building mental toughness, developing self-discipline, and learning to push through discomfort – skills that would serve these young athletes well both on and off the track.
As the summer came to a close and we prepared for the start of the school year, I could see the transformation in our team. They were fitter, yes, but more importantly, they were more confident, more self-aware, and more committed to their goals than ever before.
The results spoke for themselves. That year, our girls’ team went on to win their 11th consecutive state championship. The 4×400 relay team not only won their event but broke the school record. After the meet, as we celebrated our victory, I overheard one of the girls say to her teammates, “That win was a result of a lot of work. Remember all those summer mornings when we chose to show up and push ourselves?”
This experience reinforced my belief in the power of Relational Coaching and the importance of giving athletes ownership over their development. By trusting our athletes and teaching them to trust themselves, we had not only achieved athletic success but had also helped them develop valuable life skills.
As I reflected on that transformative summer, I realized that this approach to coaching extended far beyond just track and field. It was about preparing these young people for life, teaching them the value of self-motivation, decision-making, and perseverance. These were lessons that would serve them well long after their days of competitive running were over.
Chapter 3: The Comeback Kid
Throughout my coaching career at Mountain Brook High School, I’ve had the privilege of working with many talented athletes. But sometimes, the most rewarding experiences come from helping those who are struggling to reach their potential. This was certainly the case with Allan, a young man whose journey taught me valuable lessons about the power of perseverance and the importance of addressing the whole person, not just the athlete.
Allan joined our track team as a freshman, full of potential but lacking in confidence. He had natural ability in the throwing events, particularly the discus, but he struggled with consistency. In his first year, Allan’s performances were erratic at best. He would have flashes of brilliance in practice, only to crumble under the pressure of competition.
As we began his sophomore year, I knew we needed to take a different approach with Allan. Following the principles of Relational Coaching, I decided to spend more time getting to know him as a person, not just as an athlete. Through our conversations, I discovered that Allan was dealing with challenges at home and struggling academically. These off-track issues were weighing heavily on him, affecting his performance and his overall well-being.
I remember one particularly difficult practice where Allan became frustrated after a series of poor throws. Instead of focusing on his technique, I decided to take a walk with him around the track. As we walked, I asked him about his classes, his family, his interests outside of track. Gradually, Allan opened up about the pressure he felt to succeed, not just in sports but in all areas of his life.
“Coach,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper, “sometimes I feel like I’m letting everyone down. My parents, my teachers, the team… I just can’t seem to get anything right.”
This conversation was a turning point. I realized that to help Allan succeed on the track, we first needed to address the broader issues affecting his life. We worked together to develop a plan that went beyond just athletic training. I connected Allan with tutoring resources to help him improve his grades. We talked about time management strategies to help him balance his schoolwork, training, and family responsibilities. And perhaps most importantly, we worked on building his self-confidence, celebrating small improvements and focusing on personal growth rather than just competition results.
The change didn’t happen overnight, but gradually, we began to see improvements. Allan’s grades started to improve, which in turn boosted his confidence. He became more consistent in practice, and slowly but surely, his performance in meets began to improve as well.
By the end of his sophomore year, Allan had made significant progress, but he was still far from reaching his full potential. As we headed into his junior year, I knew it was time to push him to the next level. I challenged Allan to set ambitious goals for himself, not just in track but in all areas of his life.
Allan embraced the challenge with a determination I had never seen from him before. He committed himself fully to his training, often staying late after practice to work on his technique. He took on a leadership role on the team, encouraging and supporting his teammates. And he continued to excel in his studies, earning a spot on the honor roll for the first time.
The defining moment came at the state championship meet in Allan’s junior year. As he stepped into the discus ring for his final throw, Allan was in fourth place, just outside of medal contention. I watched from the sidelines, holding my breath along with the rest of our team.
Allan took a deep breath, began his spin, and released the discus with perfect timing. The moment it left his hand, I knew it was a special throw. The discus soared through the air, landing well beyond the marks of the other competitors. When the measurement was announced, our team erupted in cheers. Allan had not only won the state championship but had set a new personal best by a significant margin.
As Allan ran over to celebrate with the team, I saw tears in his eyes. These weren’t just tears of joy for winning a competition; they were tears of pride for overcoming so many obstacles to reach this point. In that moment, I was reminded why I became a coach in the first place – to help young people discover their potential and achieve things they never thought possible.
Allan’s success continued through his senior year, culminating in a scholarship to compete in track and field at Troy University. But more important than his athletic achievements were the personal growth and life skills he had developed through his high school career.
Years later, I received an email from Allan. He had graduated from college and was starting a successful career in business. In his message, he thanked me not just for helping him become a better athlete, but for teaching him valuable life lessons about perseverance, self-belief, and the importance of addressing all aspects of one’s life to achieve success.
Allan’s story reinforced for me the power of Relational Coaching. By taking the time to understand and address the whole person, not just the athlete, we can help our students overcome obstacles and achieve success both on and off the field. It’s a reminder that as coaches, our impact extends far beyond the realm of sports. We have the opportunity to shape lives, build character, and help young people discover their true potential.
As I look back on my career at Mountain Brook High School, stories like Allan’s stand out as some of my proudest moments. They remind me that the true measure of a coach’s success isn’t just in championships won or records broken, but in the lives touched and the character developed in the young people we have the privilege to work with.
In the next chapter, we’ll explore how the principles of Relational Coaching can be applied beyond the world of sports, impacting lives in ways we might never have imagined…
Leave a Reply