Anticipation OR Know Thine Enemy
There's a feeling before a challenge. An anticipation that feels like insects in the heart, coursing through the bloodstream. It grows exponentially when more unknowns than the usual unknown (win or loss?) sit on top.
After three games this session (two wins, one tie), we are sitting at the top of the table. Tonight, we play the second place team, who with the same results is only behind us on goal differential (5 more goals against). The thing is, we play this team tonight. The thing is, it is a new team we are completely unfamiliar with. The only information I have on them are the results against teams that I DO know. But all this uncertainty ratchets up the nerves.
Though more than nerves, on game days, there is the excitement: I can't wait to be back on the court with my teammates. Letting the narrative arc of the game keep us engaged until the end, until the suspense placated by the final whistle; the product on the scoreboard answers the question that's been pulling me forward all day. That release of building tension is what drives us. And within the game, there are tiny narrative arcs of tension and release: hold the ball at your feet, a defender closes down on you, pressure builds, make a pass out and a breath of relief.
When you don't know what's coming, the monster is much bigger than need be, a giant.
I don't know if I believe in scouting in order to adapt our game in a large way. Small variations, maybe. Or an idea of where spaces will exist and when. Otherwise, the need to scout is irrelevant to me. I would rather show up and impose our conditions on the game. We are in charge regardless of what you do. If we impose control of the ball, of the rhythm, of the tempo changes, of the feel, you become irrelevant, you disappear.
The question is still beating in my heart. I will enter with confidence and belief, and instead of looking at the faces of our rivals tonight, I will look at the smiles of the people that I do this with. The faces that give me courage and strength.
After three games this session (two wins, one tie), we are sitting at the top of the table. Tonight, we play the second place team, who with the same results is only behind us on goal differential (5 more goals against). The thing is, we play this team tonight. The thing is, it is a new team we are completely unfamiliar with. The only information I have on them are the results against teams that I DO know. But all this uncertainty ratchets up the nerves.
Though more than nerves, on game days, there is the excitement: I can't wait to be back on the court with my teammates. Letting the narrative arc of the game keep us engaged until the end, until the suspense placated by the final whistle; the product on the scoreboard answers the question that's been pulling me forward all day. That release of building tension is what drives us. And within the game, there are tiny narrative arcs of tension and release: hold the ball at your feet, a defender closes down on you, pressure builds, make a pass out and a breath of relief.
When you don't know what's coming, the monster is much bigger than need be, a giant.
I don't know if I believe in scouting in order to adapt our game in a large way. Small variations, maybe. Or an idea of where spaces will exist and when. Otherwise, the need to scout is irrelevant to me. I would rather show up and impose our conditions on the game. We are in charge regardless of what you do. If we impose control of the ball, of the rhythm, of the tempo changes, of the feel, you become irrelevant, you disappear.
The question is still beating in my heart. I will enter with confidence and belief, and instead of looking at the faces of our rivals tonight, I will look at the smiles of the people that I do this with. The faces that give me courage and strength.
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