When our daughter Hannah was an infant, I had to take her to the hospital for tests. What should have been a routine procedure quickly turned into a traumatic event. The nurse was having trouble drawing enough blood from Hannah’s small feet, and had to poke her three times. Worse yet, the nurse asked me to restrain Hannah during the procedure. This was a painful experience as a dad, holding her down while she cried in pain. All I could do was whisper my love to her. When it was over, I took her in my arms and rested her head on my shoulder. Hannah instantly grabbed me with all her strength and held on tight. Within a few moments, her crying died down and the calm of being in her father’s arms came over her.

My first fall playing collegiate Division I volleyball went exactly as I imagined. We ended up conference champions and competed in the NCAA tournament. It was smooth sailing. Though classes were difficult and I was homesick, I felt at home, because the volleyball court was the same 900 square feet it had always been. My second year started like the first. However, six starters had graduated. After our first win, the season disintegrated. As a sophomore, I could no longer hide behind the older players. Suddenly that 900 square-foot court didn’t look as familiar. We began that season as conference champions and ended with a 5-25 record. At the season’s end, all I could think about was my failure as a player and anger at the game.

The psalmist tells us that his heart’s bitterness caused him to act more like an animal than a man. Sometimes when competitors are displaced by injury or illness, they experience great frustration, isolation, loneliness, and a myriad of other emotions. Those emotions can lead one to thinking and acting senselessly. The pain associated with losing may even drive some to foolishly medicate their pain and grief. Wise coaching can short-circuit that process and keep the team from painful consequences.