Awful Moments in Soccer - Selection #4
Penalty Kick Pressure
My U14 girls’ team couldn’t score goals. We kept winning games 1-0 or tying 0-0. With State Cup approaching and no ties allowed, we needed to work on penalty kicks, both making them and saving them. What you are about to read is some of the worst youth coaching in documented history. Someday, forensic soccer scholars will find this, read it and begin a lengthy dissertation of it with the simple sentence, “This man’s a moron.” If you haven’t noticed already, I’m more than happy for others to learn from my mistakes.
Before I get to the bad though, I’ll start with the good. I knew my PK takers. We’d played in a tournament final earlier in the season. I didn’t ask, “Who wants to take a penalty kick?” only to have the kid who can barely strike a ball ironically say, “me.” No. I picked the kids who can hit the ball hard and said, “You’re great at ball striking. You’re going to score. Just pick a corner and hit it.” We won the PK’s 5-4.
I was worried about my goalkeepers who were both quite good who were scared of PK’s. Goalkeepers aren’t supposed to be scared of PKs. Goalkeepers jump around, scowl, and stare at the shooter. If they almost make the save, they act like they made the save. If the ball bounces off the post or crossbar, they celebrate like their smelly, gloved hands parried it away. And If the ball misses the goal completely, they scream and gesticulate as if their mere physical and psychological presence magically redirected the ball away from the goal. Why do they act this way? Because they know they’re not supposed to save the PK and have nothing to lose – unless you are a fourteen-year-old who’s never saved one.
My keepers, Kelly and Mary, were nervous, so I decided to toughen them up. Before we started our Penalty Kick game simulation in practice, I told the goalies, “One of you is going to win and one of you is going to lose. Whichever one of you loses will do the hardest fitness you’ve ever done. I’m not sure what it will be yet, but it will be extremely hard. Do you understand?”
They nodded nervously, and at this juncture I was feeling good about myself. I was a master sports psychologist. Understand, the dilemma with practice penalty kicks is you never realistically replicate the pressure. You do your best. You simulate the entire process: the two teams at midfield, the walk-up, the silence, the referee protocols, the whistle, but after all that, there’s still no consequence. My intent was to create genuine psychological pressure, just like win and advance or lose and go home PKs. And from the looks on Mary and Kelly’s faces, I knew I was succeeding - they were feeling the pressure.
After round one, neither one had made a save. “One of you has to step up,” I said. “You got it.” The last bit was encouragement by the way. After all, I wasn’t a complete monster. They nodded, but not with the confidence I’d hoped for.
Round two, same result. “C’mon,” I said, “Get low and explode.” You see, I did offer some instruction as well, but I’m not sure they heard it, as they avoided eye-contact with me or anyone else.
Round three, neither of them came close to making the save. They just kind of plopped in a direction like dying fish. I started providing my expert goalkeeper potion of stern gravitas, encouragement, and teaching, when I noticed both were upset. Not exactly sobbing uncontrollably in the fetal position upset, but a significant amount of tears streaming from their terrified eyes upset.
Holy cow, did I make them feel the pressure. What have I done? Was my instant thought. These poor girls are terrified.
“I’m sorry girls. Are you okay?” Then I turned to the field players, “PKs are over! I was never planning on making you do actual fitness, I just wanted to make you feel genuine pressure,” I said to the goalies. It sounded terrible when I said it then, and feels even worse writing it now.
“I’m not afraid of fitness,” one of them calmly responded between little gasps, “But you made it seem so extreme.”
“Practice is over,” I announced and scrambled back to the keepers for an impromptu therapy session, necessary, by now, for me as well. I tried to boost their confidence and apologized again. Then they apologized to me for crying, which made me feel like a bigger schmuck. Not only did I scare them into doing worse, I made them feel like wimps.
I left practice wondering about the coach’s role in creating and alleviating pressure. I wasn’t sure I had a definitive answer about either, I just knew I had messed up.
Today, I see it this way: the game and life are loaded with pressure. How am I playing? What position am I playing? How much will I play? How do I fit in with the team? Am I living up to family, coach, and teammate expectations? This is a big game. We can’t lose this one? My home life stinks. My girlfriend dumped me. I’m struggling in school. I’m too busy…. Maybe our job as coaches is always an attempt to relieve pressure not by lying, fabricating, or instilling false bravado but by immersing our players into the simple joy of the process and the moment, a place where all the pressure can fade away.
By the way, we did win the state title after both semifinal and final PK shootouts, so after the practice debacle, I did get something right.
