Summer is a delicious interval in the yearly cycle of coaching college soccer. It’s the low-gear sliver of time between the end of the spring season and before we begin anew. It’s a hibernation period when I harbor secret thoughts that we might actually be better this fall.

Summer is a time for illusory optimism before the daily seesawing mood swings of the season. I can savor possibilities, relish our potential, dream of our trip to the golden shore. I allow myself the luxury of hope and even on occasion, fantasize grandly. This is OK because nothing has happened yet, no discoveries have been made, nothing has been acted upon — and I still enjoy complete mental clarity. Tantalizing thoughts come in streams: A meticulously designed free-kick comes to fruition with a lovely goal, an unexpected game-changing moment of brilliance from a reserve player, coming from behind to beat our rival in front of a roaring throng — then, at the post-match press conference, ever the humble coach, I blend a calm, confident demeanor with a jocular bonhomie shifting all glory to my players.

Then we begin. I can’t fool myself anymore. The fantasy cocoon bursts. I have to start making decisions, striving to narrow the generation canyon, altering the links between people, doling out praise and criticism, holding to principles, working my way out of tight corners — dealing with things. Flaring possibilities are extinguished by the tangled knots of daily coaching reality. The razor-sharp scalpel of judgment and expectations cut away at my bliss. The sweetness is squeezed right out of me.

But there will be sparkling moments, too, that will remind me why I choose this profession. Here is what makes my heart sing these days: Strong leaders emerge, technical and tactical abilities develop, team unity grows, my players shine with purpose when they compete, honesty and trust in each other blooms, they learn to share my love of the game, and win and lose with grace. Best of all, I see that, on occasion, I can still use my power to impact lives.

Soon, l will wobble pensively and optimistically into the heavy weight and great joy that is the season. My players will darken and brighten my life daily. They will both wound and nourish me. This I know: Harmony will not be the norm.