It seems to me as a parent that for just about every moment of pride you take in your child, there is at least one corresponding moment of frustration.<\/p>\n
I\u2019m not talking about that first part, where the child has limited mobility and agency, and frankly, control over any of their orifices.<\/p>\n
No, I\u2019m talking about the parts that come after, when the walking and talking have become second nature, and the will begins to assert itself, tentatively at first, and then in increasing leaps of audacity.<\/p>\n
I\u2019ve always thought of myself as lucky when it came to my daughter. For all the usual reasons of course, but also because I had such a naturally compliant and attentive child. Every child comes with their own individual degree of willfulness, but for a while there I thought I\u2019d well and truly ducked it.<\/p>\n
That\u2019s the thing about agency, though. It\u2019s the ouroboros of parenting. The more that independence gradually increases, the more you find yourself teaching and reteaching the various elements of personhood to an entity that now has the capacity for both doubt and defiance.<\/p>\n
In that way, I\u2019ve always compared it to coaching. You spend countless hours drilling the fundamentals, the most basic components of the game — elementary approaches at first, then gradually moving on to weightier and weightier concepts, until you start to see progress. And then, a little at a time, more and more, players begin to independently apply those skills and strategies within the confines of a game-plan and game flow.<\/p>\n
The wins start to stack up. You chart and measure progress, but at this point things start to feel like they\u2019re on autopilot and that combination of training and natural inclination starts to take over.<\/p>\n
And then, boom, suddenly, out of nowhere, someone doesn\u2019t want to eat their vegetables anymore.<\/p>\n
(It occurs to me that I may have mixed my metaphors a bit here, but bear with me.)<\/p>\n
I imagine that\u2019s what the end (or near end) of a winning streak feels like. You\u2019ve gotten past all the developmental stuff. The engine is firing on all cylinders. You\u2019re facing a team that you not only *should* beat, but that you have in fact just recently beaten the snot out of, and they\u2019re hanging around at the end of the game because all of the sudden you\u2019ve got players who\u2019ve lost their enthusiasm for consuming their metaphorical vegetables.<\/p>\n
You look out at the court, and you can see it. Defensive rotations are just little bit sloppier, help defense is getting there just a little later than usual, passes aren\u2019t quite as snappy, and the worst team in the NBA is outscoring you in the second half because your players are coasting on the remainder of a twenty-point lead they earned back in the 2nd quarter.<\/p>\n
You know it\u2019s not just hot shooting, because the Wizards are only shooting 44% from the field, and just 24% from long-distance. It\u2019s got to be the execution (or lack thereof).<\/p>\n
What do you do in that situation? You\u2019re responsible for one of the most intelligent, motivated, thoughtful, and promising groups of young players in the league.<\/p>\n
Do you call a timeout and roast them all over an open flame? Do you let them just play it out in the hopes that the decreasing margin will eventually spur their sense of pride, or their fear of failure? Do you simply trust them to know when to flick the switch, take it up a notch, and stop playing with their food?<\/p>\n
Parenting and coaching in the NBA are a long haul. You\u2019ve got to be able to play the long game. And, to paraphrase the eternally philosophical Kenneth Ray Rodgers, you\u2019ve got to know when to hold them and fold them.<\/p>\n