My coaching journey is the road (or lake) less traveled. As a writer, I loved finding different angles to tell stories, which meant sitting in the boat while two-sport star Deion ‘Prime Time’ Sanders fished for (gulp) bass. Today, I get to hear your story. (Melvin Grier photo).

Why I said goodbye to covering sports and hello to coaching sports fans

I am you. Long before I became a sports writer or editor, I was a sports fan. I pledged allegiance to my teams, rejoicing and suffering through every game.

Then I lived my dream. Writing sports. In major league towns. I covered the World Series and the Super Bowl. I was at Yankee Stadium to watch the Bronx cheer for the White Sox as ex-Met Tom Seaver won No. 300. I was at Riverfront Stadium to witness Pete Rose cry in joy after record-breaking hit No. 4,192. And I was at Solider Field to see Walter Payton exit the field amid chants of “Walter, Walter” and cry in sadness in the tunnel after a career-ending loss.

Before a Bulls game, Michael Jordan invited me into the trainer’s room. As our interview and his injured ankle were wrapping up, a visitor approached. Swearing. Emphatically. Familiarly. “If you’re going to be on the (bleep-bleep) training table,” Bob Knight said, “you’d better get your (bleep) out there and …” Jordan laughed so hard at his former Olympic coach, it drowned out the rest of the sentence. “What the hell is this? I can’t (bleep-bleep) believe this.”

I went fishing with Deion Sanders, watched Buddy Ryan round up cattle, sat on the bench with Bob Huggins and hung out at a basketball game with the Griffeys. I talked end-of-life frustration with Woody Hayes and end-of-“Monday Night Football” speculation with Howard Cosell. 

I spoke to Javier Baez about his all-night drive to the majors, and I shadowed Cincinnati cult figure Chris Sabo on his all-day trek to (and from) David Letterman’s show. I previewed Wrigley Field’s 100th birthday early in another cursed season, and I covered assorted home games the year a championship finally graced the North Side.

I talked to Joe Montana after his game-winning pass in the Super Bowl, and to Stanley Wilson about his cocaine binge the previous night. I interviewed Hank Aaron about race, and Sandy Koufax about religion, and major league baseball; I chatted with “Macho Man” Randy Savage about wrestling and playing minor league baseball; and I spoke to Meat Loaf about music and playing fantasy baseball.

I laughed with Bob Costas about our shared affection for the Three Stooges. (“Shemp is a very underrated Stooge,” he said.) And I talked to Mickey Spillane about the quality of my writing. (“You have the ugliest handwriting I’ve ever seen,” he told me.)

I was lucky.

My wild ride included some 20 years as an editor or as an adjunct professor, helping reporters and students plan and execute stories. Most recently, I was overseeing writers at the Big Ten website, Land of 10, when Cox Media Group decided to shutter its college sports verticals.

I decided it was time for a change, too.

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I wanted to make a real difference in people’s lives.

I studied to become a certified professional coach.

This isn’t a typical sports coach, but someone trained to help revive people who are struggling, stuck or otherwise stressed. Also known as “life coaching,” the profession has exploded, helping businesses and other organizations break through their dysfunction.

After intense training, I now am certified by the International Coaching Federation (ICF), the gold standard in the industry. I am happy to work with anyone, and I do, including people at career crossroads, managers leading through change, and writers struggling to get the words out of their heads and onto the paper/screen. For a niche, I thought back to my roots.

Who in sports always says nobody looks out for their interests? Fans.

Who has been my audience during my career? Fans.

Who am I part of, since childhood, since the days when my friends and I bonded and commiserated over every season that got away? 

Fans.

So here I am. A recovering journalist. Starting over. Thinking back to the days I would scream at the TV, curse at the broadcasters, blame the manager or coach, or sit on the couch the same way I did when “we” had scored earlier in the game.

We care so much about our teams that the passion can spill over. We want to be good fans — to “cheer and boo and raise a hullabaloo,” as the old song goes — but what if we are we going too far? What if we are making other people around us uncomfortable by our hullabaloo? 

What if the stress of the game and of losses is getting to us? What about the pressure we feel over the money or time we spend … while wondering whether it’s worth paying for the team’s new TV network … or adding one more fantasy team … or trying the new legal gambling options? 

And what about the stress of losing sports to the coronavirus pandemic? It’s not life or death, but what if we feel a real loss over our escape being shut down?  

What do we tell our kids when they are angry over losing their sports, too? We already might struggle to guide them even when the kids are playing sports. Should we give them advice? Should we talk to the coach the way other parents do?

I have lived this. I watched my sons play youth sports. I spent decades in the media connecting with sports fans. I talked to Dr. Daniel Wann, the psychologist who literally wrote the book on sports fan behavior and who said I am going where no one has gone before: Asking sports fans what they struggle with, what they want, what they want more of.  

The cool part about coaching is that you drive it, with your agenda. I don’t lecture you or even judge you. I support you. I ask you questions that help you see how to enhance your fandom and your life.

After years of interviewing everyone from Arnold Palmer to John Wooden, Bill Veeck to Mike Veeck, Katarina Witt to Chris Sale I get to talk to you. I partner with you to devise a step-by-step game plan that you execute, your way, using your experience and strengths.

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One Sports Fan client was so upset with the underperforming Chicago Bears that he would launch series of F-bomb posts on social media. Later, he would apologize. And that’s an important piece here. 

If he felt an inalienable right to share his anger, or saw it as a running joke with his Facebook friends, why would he change? In this case, he wanted to stop. His tirades made others uncomfortable. More than that, they made him uncomfortable. 

He said he normally isn’t like this. But watching his sports teams, Chicago’s sports teams, made Dr. Jekyll want to Hyde.

We explored what was causing this common transformation among sports fans, how he would prefer to act and ways he had overcome similar challenges. He decided the steps to take, and we celebrated the small wins. “Inches make champions,” as Vince Lombardi said.

Before long, he backed way off his social-media rants. Once when we were on the phone, his girlfriend asked to talk to me.

“I don’t know how how you did it, but I just wanted to thank you for the incredible work you did with him,” she said. “I watched a Bears game with him on TV, and he never lost control. The difference was amazing.”

I was touched. So was my client. 

He kept working at it, even after we stopped our sessions. When another Mr. Hyde tirade emerged, he asked for another session. We talked about how the latest tirade was inevitable and exactly what needed to happen.

He was ready to look at the situation a little differently, to expand his game plan. 

Now I look forward to helping you with yours.