I Really Wish I Could Track Down The Best Coach I Ever Had

Have you seen Ted Lasso? If you haven't, I highly recommend it. Not just because it is incredibly entertaining, but because it shows the incredible power a coach can have on people despite limited (or no) “technical knowledge”. I have long said, wins and losses are an outcome of the culture set by the Coach. Playbooks, while crucial, are NOT the difference between winning or losing. Do you think there is an NFL or NHL coach who doesn’t know virtually every play, system, or concept out there? If they don’t, they’re in the wrong line of work.

As an Athletic Director and former NCAA student-athlete, I have spent my entire life around coaches. Like teachers, bosses, and/or friends they come in all different shapes, sizes, philosophies, and mindsets. Most are good, a select few are truly great, some are downright terrible. This is not a shot at coaches; not by any means. There is this phenomenon that not only affects everyone, but every thing we do and it is called the Bell Curve.

What I have observed over my lifetime in and around sport is despite having MANY coaches (I had 3 different ones in 4 years of college hockey — NOT good!), the truly great ones are in short supply. And the best ones are usually pretty sound “technically”, but exceptional in their people skills.

This brings me to the best coach I ever had.

I was 15 and seriously considering quitting hockey. I had a terrible experience with a verbally abusive, nutbar coach, was losing my love for the game, and as a teenager found myself asking, “is it really worth it?” My dream from age 8 was to play NCAA hockey. Our family friend played at Bowling Green University and spoke glowingly about school bands, packed arenas, the college life, and meeting amazing people from around the world. He had me at hello.

In the spring of 1985, I received an invitation from Can-Am Hockey Camps to join their Collegiate Travel Camp. This camp was based in Lake Placid, NY and run out of the Olympic complex where just 5 years earlier Herb Brooks and a bunch of college kids did the unthinkable winning an Olympic gold medal. In addition, we would live at nearby Northwood Prep for 10 days, before embarking on a tour of NCAA schools in the Northeast for another 10 days.

This was it…the moment of truth and I told my parents I really wanted to do this to get my love of hockey back and “re-set” my path to college hockey. I signed up, started training, and before I knew it I was in Lake Placid.

Our coach was a man named Joe Prenda. Joe looked like someone’s cool uncle or grandpa; older, but “sporty” and had an aura about him that immediately drew you in. Joe had just come off coaching Men’s Hockey for eight years at Umass-Dartmouth and was leading the collegiate travel camp for Can Am. He and I had an instant connection and to this day it still amazes me.

Like a typical teenager, I thought I was pretty special. I was certainly a solid player, but this was a camp and it would ultimately be Joe’s call who played what, where, and when…Time to show your stuff. And I came out like a house on fire. As the week went on we moved from individual skills development and conditioning drills to systems work. When he announced my line, I was gutted.

I was playing between the two weakest players in camp.

Taking a cue from my parents, I didn’t say a word, but I saw this as a slight…He sees me as a third line centre? He doesn’t think I am good enough to play with the top wingers? I thought, “here we go again…I’m losing my grip on my dream…” Maybe my hopes were too high and I needed to accept that I wasn’t really that good. Not an easy thing to do when you think you’re the man.

The week went along. We trained together, lived together, ate together. We were building a team. Joe did things I had never seen before — video analysis of our practices and scrimmages, mental imagery training, lots of body weight exercises & plyometrics. It felt like a combination of North American and Soviet training…it was amazing. But…my linemates struggled. They had difficulty giving and receiving passes. We had to repeat virtually every drill and people grew frustrated with us, feeling like we were slowing everyone else down in the process. Frankly, it sucked feeling that way, but we pressed on.

Joe took me aside everyday. He asked me questions about what I saw out there. What players I liked. Which systems I preferred for the penalty kill, the powerplay, and the most effective breakouts. I shared my thoughts and always was 1 mm away from saying, “Hey Joe. You ask me all these questions. You listen to me. But yet you play me with the weakest kids on the team…WTF?!”

But I stayed the course…not my place. Not appropriate. Maybe things will change?

After the training phase was over it was time to hit the road for games at the University of Maine, Bowdoin, the University of Vermont, Brown, Plattsburgh, RPI, and then a final series of games back home in Lake Placid…and along the way something happened.

Our line went from being the guys that screwed-up every drill to the guys that the team relied on to win; to step-up in the toughest situations, and drag the team along with us. We beat every team and the last night in Lake Placid in front of friends, family, and college scouts, we brought the house down.

At the end of the tournament, Joe walked to centre ice. He had a microphone in his hand and a trophy in the other. In his quiet, caring, grandfatherly demeanour he said, “I would like to ask Shawn Burt to come to centre ice please.”

As I skated to centre ice, Joe started his speech.

“We recruited Shawn here as the top centreman for our team. I put him on a line with two players that needed a considerable amount of help. I am sure Shawn wondered what the heck I was doing, and I am sure he wasn’t very happy with me most of the time. But he never said a word. He showed up, worked his hardest, and supported his linemates. These guys screwed-up every drill at practice and I was starting to second guess myself. But I stayed the course. I am pleased to announce that Shawn has been voted the tournament MVP by myself and all of the opposing coaches. I am also pleased to let Shawn and his teammates know that their line had the most points in the tournament.”

As he spoke, he turned to me with tears in his eyes, put the microphone and trophy down on the ice and placed his hands on either side of my face. He looked at me and said, “I am SO proud of you. You made everyone on this team better…including two kids we took a chance on. They may have had no business being here, but YOU changed all of that. This was always my plan and I wasn’t sure it would work. Mission accomplished!”

I will never forget Coach Joe. He changed my life in those 3.5 weeks in Lake Placid. I attribute getting to Dartmouth College and playing hockey there, to him. He saved me when I had one foot out the door from the game I loved and the dream I had.

He had a special gift. Seeing something in people that they themselves did not or could not. He believed in me. He took a chance on me. He cared about me and my dream.

For years I have searched for Coach Joe and have never been able to track him down. I think about him and the lessons he taught me ALL the time. Outside of my late father, Coach Joe was the single biggest influence on me and I owe him and eternal debt of gratitude.

My last effort to find Coach Joe was an email to UMASS-Dartmouth. They didn’t have any information to share with me and I fear that I will never be able to tell him this story. It leaves a pit in my stomach, because he deserves to know and I wish I had been much more proactive on this years ago. Frankly, it makes me incredibly sad.

Joe was the greatest coach I ever had. Who is yours? No matter who it is, please promise me this, you will track that person down and tell that what a difference they made it your life…because the time may come when you can’t…