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Apathetic players and angry parents are just a few of the reasons why more and more prep coaches are giving up their whistles.
By JOHN SCHWARB
© St. Petersburg Times, published January 9, 2001
It had already been a rough night for East Lake coach Mike Walter. Plagued by a rash of turnovers, his girls basketball team had lost a home game in overtime to fall to 3-5 on the young season.
He talked briefly to the girls in the locker room, then left to let them discuss the game with each other. Minutes later, as he talked to a reporter about the game, one of his players interrupted, furious.
The senior was outraged at being left alone with teammates for what she termed a "pow-wow," and used an obscenity as she lambasted the coach's methods.
In front of a small group that included parents and assistant coaches, she vowed not to remain on the team if Walter did not change his post-game routine.
Then a parent chimed in, equally angry.
"You're dealing with girls, you're not dealing with guys," said one mother.
"They're different."
Walter, 26, is in his first year of coaching varsity basketball. He had experience, and wanted this job.
On this night, it is difficult to see why.
Recently, several high-profile coaching jobs have opened up in the college and professional ranks, and pressing questions have come with many of them: Who wants the 'round-the-clock stress, even if it pays well? Who wants to coach players who, in many cases, have no interest in playing hard? Is it worth the increasingly personal criticism that losses bring?
Those questions, however, are not being asked at just the highest levels. At high schools, such basic inquiries (minus the part about the jobs paying well) are being taken into account far more often -- and the answers are not what they used to be.
No statistics exist on the number of comings and goings in high school coaching, but athletic directors in Hillsborough and Pinellas counties agree -- here, the jobs are turning over faster than ever. And there may not be a slowdown any time soon.
"I have had coaches tell me it's just not worth it any more," Pinellas County athletic director Bob Hosack said. "They just can't handle it. It's no fun -- and that's in several sports."
So, where did the fun go? With the hours being long and unforgiving and the pay embarrassingly low, was it ever there?
Coaches promise it was, but those with many years invested are seeing changes in attitudes, both on and away from the team.
"Sixteen years ago when I started coaching, I think there was a lot more respect for the coaches, a lot more trust by the parents to let you do the job," said Dick Slack, athletic director and football coach at Lecanto. "I have seen more inappropriate behavior this year in the stands than I have ever seen in my life, more inappropriate comments to staff and athletes then there have ever been before.
"There are a lot of unreasonable people that put unreal expectations on the program and their own children."
An increasing number of unreal expectations are a factor of what Seminole baseball coach Scott Miller calls the "Little League Syndrome," in which parents now look to athletics as vehicles to get their children's college tuitions paid.
"They expect to play, and if they don't the coach is a fool for not seeing their talent," Hosack said.
But even worse than the Little League Syndrome is the disease that infiltrates some teams and even entire student bodies -- apathy. Coaches grow weary from the torturous schedule and criticism, but admit that those mostly fade away over a summer.
Watching students lose interest in the games, however, truly hurts.
Greg O'Connell walked away from the Springstead boys basketball program not because of parents or losing seasons. During 23 years he won more than 360 games and a district title in his final year. But he could not handle the players loving the game far less than he did.
Last season, he was plagued by one inexplicable incident after another. On the third day of practice, O'Connell had to cancel his workout for the first time in 23 years after two kids, who he had in class earlier that day, skipped out without explanation.
After the team's first game, a starting guard quit to pursue other activities. And on the eve of a district championship game, a player informed O'Connell that he would not be in town. He had a trip planned with his parents, not thinking the team was capable of reaching the final.
"What are you going to say? Our society has changed so much," O'Connell said.
"I loved my kids, their priorities just changed. It was too heartbreaking."
Norris Lightsey can relate. At Crystal River, where he coaches girls basketball and track, the pool of female athletes has always been small. But it is getting smaller.
One year, a starter on his basketball team quit in midseason to take up soccer, explaining that she wanted to letter in as many sports as possible before graduating. And just last week, the junior varsity had to fold due to a lack of players.
His team is struggling, but it is not the losing record that really concerns the coach.
"It gets very frustrating for me," Lightsey said. "I'm sitting here today dwelling over the fact that we're doing the right things, but how do you get (players) motivated? If it's not fun, they don't want to play, but I think when you get to the varsity level they've got to understand it all comes down to putting out a product that is competitive."
Still, Lightsey sticks with coaching, even at the crossroads that many of his peers are either facing already or will face in the near future.
Do you stay and fight, or cut your losses and move on?
"That's what it comes down to," Lightsey said.
"Do I want to go on and start a new business or try to do something else, or do you want to fight and try to make it happen? But if you get out of it, you might not get back in at the same situation, with a coaching staff to work with and all those outside factors."
For Slack, it is simpler than that. Despite all the difficulty that was his 2000 season (an 0-10 record and a roster that shrank from 36 to 20 by season's end), he vows to stay.
"I can see where someone would rather be home with their family instead of getting cussed at and screamed at every week while your family sits in the stands and listens to it," Slack said. "But I think the main thing is people lose perspective of what they're really trying to accomplish, they get tied up in the wins and losses. If you hang your hat on that, then you're having a rough time dealing with adversity.
"I have no desire to ever get out of what I'm doing. You are definitely fighting an uphill battle every day, but I feel I've got the greatest job in the world."
Despite all he has put up with in less than a full season, East Lake's Walter feels as strongly as Slack about his job.
The Eagles have a losing record, and shortly after last month's incident, the angry player and two other seniors left the team. Yet Walter remains unfazed.
"I don't take stuff like that personally. I take it to heart and think about it, but I don't take it personally," Walter said. "I kind of think of it as a growing experience for me and the girls.
"I really like basketball and I really like the girls I've got now, I'd like to build a program."
Whether there are more coaches like Walter out there remains to be seen. Walter said he has only come across one other coach close to his age, first-year Gulf coach Cynthia Steele, but is optimistic that his chosen profession may, in time, take a turn for the better.
"It's not just coaching, a lot of people are scared of the educational field and then having to coach on top of that," Walter said. "It is very demanding, and a lot of the young people who volunteer and want to get into it see that and maybe drop off.
"Around here, I think I came in at a time when a lot of coaches still have three, four years left before they want to get out of the business.
"I think we're going to start seeing a turnover with the younger coaches -- if they're out there."