Define Success Before the Scoreboard Does
If you don’t define success before the season starts, the scoreboard will happily do it for you.
So will parents. So will social media. So will your own ego.
Every season, a new group of kids walks into your program with one big question they’ll never say out loud:
“What actually matters here?”
If you don’t answer that clearly and consistently, they’ll assume it’s whatever gets the most attention—points, minutes, highlights, rankings.
Then we act surprised when they play selfish, melt down after losses, or see their entire self-worth in a box score.
Defining success doesn’t mean pretending wins don’t matter. They do. Competing to win is part of the lesson.
It just means you refuse to let the only story be, “Did we outscore them?”
Try this framing with your team and parents:
“We’re going to chase wins. Hard. But we’re also going to chase three other things just as hard: growth, character, and connection.”
Then get specific.
1. Growth goals.
“How will we know we got better?”
“By midseason, we want to communicate coverages without coaches yelling from the sideline.”
“We want our bench to be more engaged and vocal than any team we play.”
“We want every player to be able to name two skills they improved this year.”
Now film sessions and practices aren’t just “you messed up.” They’re, “This is us moving toward the standard we set.”
2. Character goals.
“How will we behave, no matter what?”
“We don’t show up late.”
“We don’t blame refs.”
“We clean our bench and locker room before we leave.”
Post those. Live them. Praise kids when they hit them in losses, not just wins.
3. Connection goals.
“What kind of team experience are we building?”
“Everyone learns at least one thing about every teammate outside of sports.”
“We’ll do one small team-building piece each week.”
“Seniors will take responsibility for one act of service for younger players.”
When you lay this out at your preseason meeting, you’re not just giving a nice speech.
You’re building a scoreboard the outside world doesn’t control.
And here’s the cool part: paradoxically, teams who define success this way usually win more. Why? Because the things you’re emphasizing—discipline, communication, trust—are the things that show up in the fourth quarter whether you like it or not.
This doesn’t mean you’ll never feel frustrated when you lose. You’re human. It just gives you more handles to grab in those moments than, “We’re failures.”
After a tough loss, you can say:
“Scoreboard says we lost. Our growth goal says we communicated better than last week. Our character goal says we handled the refs with class. That matters.”
You’re teaching kids how to hold two truths at once: “We’re disappointed. And we still made progress.”
That’s a skill they’ll need their entire lives.
The world is loud about one kind of success: visible, obvious, and usually short-lived.
Part of your job is to make the other kinds just as visible.
Wins are fun.
But the real win is a group of kids who walk out of your program with a clearer idea of what success actually looks like in a life—not just on a scoreboard.
