The main difference between a good quarterback and a great quarterback is the ability to not panic. The great quarterback knows there is always time to win. A great player pulls the game out of fire with minutes or even seconds left.

The classic story of panic evolves a little guy called Chicken Little. This was an instance when a nut caused a great deal of trouble. The poor little guy was hit with an acorn falling from a tree and believed the sky was falling.

Basketball coaches love it when their players have court awareness. Unlike dribbling, passing or shooting where athletes rely strictly on athletic talent during the course of a game, court awareness is a talent that involves competing with mental alertness, seeing all the obstacles in advance and reacting while moving at full speed. The great players have that special ability.

Many times over the years our team has competed against opponents with more physical talent. The games all start the same way. The opponents strut onto the court with a sense of confidence and a swagger in their own abilities. Their body language indicates they’re confident of dominating the contest.

He knew it could be his day. He had been there before, but today would be different. Phil Mickelson finally landed his first major tour victory after 46 attempts. Draining an 18-foot putt on the final hole of the tournament could not have made it any sweeter. He had waited for a long time for this victory, and it was worth the wait.

As a student-athlete in high school, the only thing that I liked about myself was my basketball ability. My self-worth was based completely on my performance on the court. Although I knew Christ, it took a lot of painful losing and poor performances for me once I got to college to realize that my self-worth was very skewed.

After I began to read the Bible more, I realized that none of the verses showed that God loved me any less based on my performance. I did, however, find many verses based on how God viewed me as His child.

There are about a million things I loved about John Wooden's coaching, but one of my favorite things was when he taught his players each year how to put on their socks and tie their shoes properly. Now, you would think that college-aged men could do this on their own, but Wooden took nothing for granted. He paid attention to the little things of the game. I believe this is what made the big things come easier for his teams over the years. He always took care of the little things.

The life of a coach goes something like this: gets up early, goes to office, teaches class or watches film, meets with other coaches, has a lunch meeting, goes over more film, reviews scouting reports, teaches more class, prepares for team meetings, has team meetings, has team practice, has follow-up meetings with coaches and players, and finally leaves for home. Once they get home, they review homework, chat with their spouse, spend time with kids, read a bedtime story, make a couple of calls, and finally eat dinner.

Obviously, the life of a coach is a busy one — sometimes too busy. But is something missing? How could anything more possibly fit into that busy day? What is missing is vitally important, eternally important. This is where the squeeze comes in.