I believe coaches would be more effective in their interactions with student-athletes if they spoke more freshly, succinctly and candidly. We, as a group, use a lot of ineffective, inane, shopworn coaching banalities and clichés.

Team not doing well? Then everybody needs to “step up.” Of course when you step up you need to give 110 percent. I can just hear a coach shouting; “Not good enough, you’re only giving 107 percent.” Here’s another one: Coaches’ athletics programs all seem to be moving to the “next level.” When you get to that level, everybody else will be there, too. And on it goes. Can our athletes process and learn from such inanities?

Kids don’t concentrate for long nowadays in our helter-skelter society. So little is said for the first time anymore. I propose we can be more inspirational to our athletes if we speak simply and concisely.

I know I’ve tidied up my verbiage a bit. I know the game better than ever, but I say less than ever. I have found that if I make three points during halftime they’ll remember three — and if I make 10 points they’ll remember three.

I’ve spent a lot of time in England and lived for several years in Norway playing and coaching soccer. It was different over there. They don’t say as much as we do. Coaches give honest, blunt assessments. A couple weeks ago an English coach said of his team after the match, “A poor effort, littered with fouls, full of errors — in all, a dreadful encounter. The supporters did not get value for money today.” Starkly candid. Rarely did the Norwegian coaches make excuses.

The excuse-free environment isn’t as prevalent over here. I remember my old coach telling the press after a match that the reason we didn’t win was, hold on, “the other team was much more skillful.” I tried that with my own team. Didn’t fly. My players didn’t like it and the booster club looked at me with raised eyebrows. But in reality, when we lose a match the reason is usually quite simple: The opponents were better. How satisfying and cleansing to keep your ego in check and just say it. Then move on. 

My assistant coach a few years ago told our players, “Good half, good stuff,” as they came off the field at halftime after an abysmal performance. It was a well-meaning but dishonest assessment. The players knew it. Credibility was lost. That’s the price you pay.  My experience tells me that players want to hear the truth. They are not as thin-skinned and hostile to criticism as you think. If they play poorly, tell them. Then when they play well and you compliment them, they’ll believe you.

A few years ago, the coach of the team that had finished 11th of 12 in the conference was quoted in a preseason press release as saying his team could win the conference title. His reasoning was that he had nine returning starters back — the same nine that had gone 3-14 the year before. Behind every silver lining there is a cloud. When optimism constantly trumps realism you run the risk of losing credibility with your players. And from there it’s a small step to lost respect. 

How often I have heard colleagues say that their team was better than their record. Then they go on to explain about bad luck and injuries and referees who robbed them.

Have you ever heard someone say the opposite? A few years ago my team was 16-1-1. We won most games by a goal. We had zero injuries all year; we were often out-shot, out-played and somehow still won. I suggested to my players that we were not nearly as good as our record. We had been a bit lucky, I told them, and we needed to remain humble and maintain our vigorous training regime.

Given that we are educators first, we need to teach our players good values. When we make excuses, when we give long explanations for losses or poor play, when we spew false bravado — we model poor values to our athletes. If we lose and whine that we had injuries, the referees were poor, we were unlucky — we are teaching them that making excuses is how you handle disappointment. If you have lost, why not display honorable behavior, deflate pretension, infuse a bit of humility and just congratulate the opponents?

Another egotistical irritant: Often I’ve heard coaches say after a loss, “They just didn’t show up to play today.” My message to the never-my-fault types: If your team didn’t show up, then you didn’t have them ready. When your team loses, you lose. This time-honored fashion of coaches blaming their athletes for losses is egocentric and separates the coach from the team during rough patches. Here is a fresh idea: After a painful defeat, tell your team, “If you feel sad, be sad. We’ll ride it out together.” To teach your players to lose with grace and without excuse is a great gift that will serve them well.

Realistically, other than recruiting expertise, coaches can have only a minimal effect on outcomes. A great coach is going to lose nine of 10 against a poor coach that has more talent. We don’t have as much influence as we think. The sad truth is that where there is a will there is not always a way. Diligent preparation and great effort does not always lead to victory. The other team is preparing well and working hard, too. There is only so much you can do.

Another plus of the straightforward style: I have found that honesty begets honesty. My players respond to me with more realistic expectations when I don’t constantly praise, coddle and shelter them. That approach leads to players gaining the courage to disagree with their teammates when appropriate. When you teach them the value of speaking from the heart and thinking independently, you free them to know themselves better and self esteem soars. Oh how I appreciate the bold, confident ones who don’t cave to peer pressure and aren’t afraid to stray from the pack. They will be better armed to deal with life’s continuing challenges.

Being forthright in assessing your players lets them know how good they really are. They can’t grow if you spin. Souls are nourished and confidence grows in the long run when you respect them by being compassionately honest in your assessment of their ability.

I often remind my players that they are in transition here, that this sunlit sliver of time is fleeting and rich and should be enjoyed. We are blessed to have the power to teach life-long values that will serve our students well. We can inspire them to dream, to relish the fruits of success and to cope with disappointment in a healthy way. My players know that I believe the experience of competing — the joy of playing — trumps results. They nod, but they don’t think that far ahead. Much like parenting, our value as coaches won’t be known until perspective sets in years later. When they do measure this experience, my hope is that they will remember it as enjoyable, meaningful and memorable.

My dream legacy? I hope they remember me, flawed, vulnerable, and predisposed to cynicism, as a caring man who loved the game and shot straight.

Rick Burns is the women’s soccer coach at Central College (Iowa).