Coaches Who Reflect Together, Evolve Together
I’m fortunate that my varsity assistant, Kyle McNally, not only possesses a high-level hoops IQ but also played for me in college. He’s been invaluable—not just in scheme and culture creation—but in helping me reflect on the why of me (seeing as he’s experienced it both as a player and now as a staff member).
Yesterday, he brought something to me from a district training he attended: the Crisis Cycle (the image above). Our conversation about it—and the action plan that followed—was another example of why I think TeamsOfMen work has to be embraced by staffs across the country.
While I’m sharing the graphic, I won’t try to teach it here (hopefully, your own curiosity leads you to dig deeper). What I will share is that between the two of us asking questions and brainstorming application, we came up with at least three things we wish we’d handled better a season ago—and with the knowledge we have now, three things we’re ready to implement this year.
None of those had anything to do with X’s and O’s. All had to do with the young men we serve—what they’re most likely carrying into practice or games, and what we can do to meet them where they are and show them real paths to growth.
We probably said “I should have” or “Wish we would have” four or five times each.That’s the Self Reflection + Self Interrogation = Self Awareness cycle (we even have a shirt for it).
I didn’t initiate that conversation—my staff did.
And that’s a huge sign to me that we’ve got the right people in place.
Coach Prompts
When was the last time your staff reflected collectively on how you respond to players in moments of crisis?
Which phase of the Crisis Cycle do your team’s systems—and your own reactions—tend to fall apart in?
Are you modeling calm behavior for your players… or matching their escalation with your own?
What would it look like if “practice planning” included time for emotional regulation and staff reflection?
How often do you and your assistants use I should have or we should have as growth language, not guilt language?
Player Prompts
When you start to feel frustration or embarrassment in practice, what does your version of the “Crisis Cycle” look like?
Which phase are you usually in before someone else notices?
What would it take for you to ask for space before things boil over?
How do you want your coaches or teammates to respond when you’re escalating?
What’s one way you can practice returning yourself to baseline before a mistake defines your next play?
Patriarchy’s Greatest Trick—and Why Coaches Must Call It Out
You know how much time we all spend as coaches watching film—the endless quest for more insight, more knowledge, and ultimately, the “cheat code” that’ll put our guys in the best position to succeed. Think back to that moment when you said, “There it is. That play. That clip. That’s what we need to beat next week’s opponent.” That feeling of discovery? That hit of clarity? It’s electric.
I think this clip from the AudaciTea Podcast (link) offers that same kind of moment—but for the way we coach men, not just how we coach the game.
It perfectly lays out the exact formula we’re fighting to unlearn in male spaces: patriarchy convinces men to hate femininity—and then attaches everything decent, empathetic, and emotionally fluent to that same femininity. Once that lie sets in, our young men don’t just reject women—they start rejecting their own potential for decency, patience, and compassion.
If you’ve ever asked, “Where do I even start with this TeamsOfMen work?” — start here.
This clip is film. It’s a breakdown of the system we’re up against. And if we want our guys to play the game of life with integrity and awareness, this has to be the film we study.
Coach Prompts
When was the last time you taught your players that patience, empathy, and self-control were signs of strength—not weakness?
How might your own discomfort with “feminine” traits show up in your coaching language?
What messages about “being a man” are reinforced in your locker room without you realizing it?
Do your players ever see you model emotional fluency—or only emotional control?
Player Prompts
What’s something you’ve been told “real men don’t do”—and how has that belief shaped you?
When you hear someone call empathy or vulnerability “soft,” what comes up for you?
How do you know when a teammate is being real vs. performing toughness?
If being decent and patient were considered signs of power, what would change in how you act?
Stop Searching for the Work. You’re Already Doing It.
I found myself frantically scrolling through my various platforms today looking for inspiration for this blog (and as you know, it’s rare that I can’t find an example of something online that speaks to the need for the TeamsOfMen framework in team rooms of male athletes).
But then it hit me:
“Kip, you fool — the time you spent with your guys around that circular table yesterday was the work in action.”
Let me explain (without naming names or quoting directly — the trust my guys give me deserves protection).
Yesterday, a few of my older players helped me work a booth at a school-wide event. In between conversations with students and staff who came by, the downtime turned into something deeper. We started sharing some of the very questions and prompts I post here — and then, I just listened.
They bounced ideas off one another, challenged each other, shared their own experiences. Real talk. Real growth.
That’s the essence of TeamsOfMen. We can spend all day talking about frameworks, shirts, or session plans, but the work itself? It’s when we create intentional space for our players to wrestle with things that matter — right now and in the future.
So, while there’s no viral clip or sports controversy for today’s blog, there’s something better: proof.
Proof that when we create space for the work, the work shows up.
Coach Prompts
When’s the last time you just listened to your players talk about real life—not the game?
How do you intentionally create space for your players to talk about things that don’t show up in a stat sheet?
What’s one moment from this week where the “work” (your character, trust, or connection goals) actually showed up—and did you stop to notice it?
How could you make those moments more consistent, not accidental?
Player Prompts
What’s one thing you said or heard in our team conversations lately that stuck with you? Why?
What’s a topic you think guys our age need to talk about more—but usually don’t?
When conversations in this room get real, how do you usually react—lean in or pull back? Why?
They Didn’t Ask for It—But It’s Finding Them Anyway
This report from Common Sense Media was first brought to my attention by my colleague Christopher Pepper, and later again by my friend Dennis Barbour in his Partnership for Male Youth newsletter.
But this slide right here stopped me cold.
68% of boys report seeing masculinity content in their feeds without searching for it.
Algorithms—not curiosity—are driving the exposure.
That stat hit me because it exposes something I know I forget sometimes: Our young people are living in an environment of constant, unfiltered input. They’re being taught—by feeds, not by mentors—what it means to be a man.
Think about that number in your world. If you’ve got 20 in your locker room, 80 on your football field, or 12 on your bench, how many of them are getting masculinity messaging every single day that they didn’t choose?
Now imagine if seven out of ten of your players were being fed clips that taught them to run a pick-off play the exact wrong way. You’d be panicking, right? You’d immediately feel the urgency to reteach and correct before it destroyed your system.
That same urgency should apply here.
Because while we can’t control the algorithms, we can compete with them. We can fill our own team rooms, our own feeds, and our own conversations with stronger, healthier, more grounded messages about manhood.
If you’re serious about your players learning how to win in life—not just on the court—then this report isn’t optional reading. It’s required.
📘 Full Common Sense Media Report →
Coach Prompts
How are you addressing what your players see online when you’re not in the room?
What’s your system for teaching them how to question and filter that input?
If their feeds are forming their definitions of manhood, how are you countering it?
Player Prompts
When you scroll, who’s really in control—you or the algorithm?
What kind of content about “manhood” shows up in your feed—and how does it make you feel?
When’s the last time you stopped scrolling to ask, “Who benefits from me believing this?”
The Manosphere Is Teaching the Opposite of Everything Good Coaches Believe.
I don’t have any issues with Kirby Smart’s quote on the surface. It makes perfect sense when trying to get young men to embrace accountability. And I’d wager Kirby isn’t the first coach to ever say it.
Most of us have some version of that line in our own practice huddles. But that’s what I really want to hammer home — this idea is known. We all know accountability is a foundational trait for success. We know blame kills culture. So why, outside our team rooms, are so many of us silent while our players are being fed an entire online ideology—the Manosphere—that teaches them to do the exact opposite?
These guys are being told that their pain, failures, and frustrations aren’t their responsibility. That women, minorities, and the LGBTQ+ community are to blame for the lives they don’t have.
And too many coaches stay quiet about it.
If you’re reading this, you already know TeamsOfMen exists to take on Manbox thinking—to push back against a 2025 culture weaponizing male struggle and transforming it into hate.
We’d never let that mindset show up in a locker room. We’d shut it down immediately if a player started blaming teammates for a loss. So why aren’t we just as forceful when it shows up in the world our players live in?
Coaching accountability means all accountability. On the field, off the field, and in the feeds shaping their worldview.
Coach Prompts
How are you teaching accountability beyond the scoreboard?
When’s the last time you challenged your team to identify who they blame—and why?
Are you correcting blame in the locker room but ignoring it online?
Player Prompts
When things go wrong, who do you blame first—and why?
What’s harder for you: admitting a mistake, or apologizing for one?
If “accountability” was a stat we tracked this week, how would you grade yourself?
Flip This Script To Ourselves
Let’s start with this: today’s blog isn’t a takedown of Phil Beckner’s post — it’s solid. But if we’re honest, most of us coaches saw it and immediately started diagnosing our players.
So here’s the flip: what happens if we apply that same formulaic approach to ourselves?
What if our version — ACTIONS THAT EXPRESS COACH CHARACTERISTICS — looked something like this:
Always uses harsh volume when talking
Never expresses gratitude to others
Always says “Just do what I told you”
Invades personal space
Talks about player faults to other players
Has no mechanism for feedback about his approach
If those were the actions, what would the character traits be?
Below is where I landed after taking a hard look in the mirror. But this isn’t meant to be my list — it’s an exercise. Print it. Bring it to your next staff meeting. Or better yet, do it with your players. See how they fill in the blanks.
The goal isn’t shame — it’s awareness.
Because the real win might not be another practice drill, but a shared agreement on the kind of coaches we refuse to be.
Coach Prompt:
When was the last time you looked at your own coaching behaviors the way you study film of your players? Which of these actions have crept into your habits — and what might that be saying about the state of your own emotional fluency?
Player Prompt:
If your coaches filled out this list together, what trait would you want to describe them? And what behaviors from your side could help them live up to that version of themselves?
Auriemma’s Epiphany—and the Question He Didn’t Ask
There’s a window here to an all-time coach getting so close to a TeamsOfMen framework statement.
In this clip, Geno Auriemma reflects on his later-career realization that—despite all the national championships—he doesn’t actually have much to do with winning and losing after tipoff. He says his real impact comes from the intentional preparation he builds day in and day out for the women in his program: “to learn how to win.”
That’s an incredible insight. And yet… I can’t help but wonder what happens if we push it one step further.
What if we swap out the word game for life?
Would as many coaches still nod along if Geno said:
“I can’t control what they do in their lives; all I can do is put them in position every day to practice how to live as their best selves.”
Would that clip still go viral? Would the comments still read “facts” and “this is coaching”?
I doubt it—because the word life makes it real. It moves us from the comfort of “sport” to the mess of human growth. And that’s where the real coaching starts.
Coach Prompts
What would change in your daily approach if you saw every drill as a life rehearsal, not a game rehearsal?
How much of your “preparation” teaches skill—and how much teaches stability?
Do you ever check in with your players on how they’re practicing life outside your gym?
Player Prompts
Where in your day do you practice being your best self—outside of practice?
What lessons from your sport actually translate when you leave the court?
Who’s teaching you how to win at life, not just win the game?
Coaching Reflection: What We Miss When We Worship “Masterclass Lists”
Let’s start here: Kirby Smart has enjoyed a ton of success as Georgia’s head football coach. That’s just fact.
And let’s also add that he may have said these things in a clinic somewhere, and the person who posted this list on X may have been there to accurately write them all down. I don’t know. So to be clear — this isn’t a critique of Coach Smart personally, because I can’t guarantee these are his actual words or beliefs.
What I do think, though, is that a lot of coaches would analyze this list and take it as some version of gospel. And that’s where I start to pause.
I don’t disagree with the whole list. In fact, some parts align with how I approach leading young men. But I’d challenge any coach reading it to take a critical eye to each phrase, not just a highlighter.
In my own deep dive, I think there are three main categories where lists like this—if unexamined—can actually make us worse at our jobs:
The Language of Dominance
The Myth of Grind Culture
The Misunderstanding of Leadership & Growth
I know which bullet point I think fist into each category, and how a single word swap or sentence reframe could completely change my level of alignment. Because words matter. What we say in front of players shapes how they define toughness, leadership, and even self-worth.
And honestly, I also think 18-point lists are too damn long. Even if they’re all gold, you lose your audience after three to five.
If you’re in season right now — don’t take this on yet. File it away and schedule time in the offseason to dig into it with your staff. If you’re not in season, I think this exercise is worth your time.
Coach Prompt:
Pick three statements from the Kirby Smart list that you’ve said — or could easily see yourself saying — out loud to your players.
Now ask:
What feeling does that sentence create in a young man hearing it for the first time?
Does it invite curiosity or compliance?
Does it demand toughness or develop it?
The goal isn’t to cancel the statement — it’s to refine it so the message builds men, not myths.
Staff Prompt:
In your next staff meeting, divide the 18 bullets into the three categories I listed:
The Language of Dominance
The Myth of Grind Culture
Misunderstood Leadership & Growth
Debate where each belongs. You’ll find where your program’s unspoken beliefs live — and whether those beliefs are helping or harming your players’ development.
Don’t Let Your Passion Turn Into Performance Theatre
Let’s be clear—Coach Campanile (shown above when he was the Dolphins LB coach) is having a great year coordinating Jacksonville’s defense. He’s clearly a sharp football mind who knows how to build and call a defense.
My issue isn’t with him. It’s with the framing of moments like this speech, and what they teach younger coaches watching. The message becomes: “The more f-bombs I drop, the more violent imagery I use, the harder my guys will play.”
That’s the fallacy—one fueled by the glorification of violence in our coaching spaces. Clips like this get labeled as “fire” or “old-school juice,” but what’s missing is acknowledgment of what actually makes his defense elite: detail, film study, teaching, technique, and intelligence.
I’d even wager that the laughter from his players in the room had less to do with being inspired and more to do with being entertained. The delivery was wild. The language was loud. But did it teach anything?
And if we’re being honest—the goal of a defensive coordinator is to prevent an offense from running away from you in the first place. So even the Lombardi quote about chasing down someone who “stole your family” doesn’t hold up. If we’re sticking with the metaphor, what failed defense did you call that let the intruder in to begin with?
I don’t begrudge his passion—it’s real. But I’ll always bet that the value of his detail and design outweighs the power of his decibels.
If we’re serious about shaping better coaches and players, we’ve got to stop equating volume with value.
Coach Prompts
When was the last time you evaluated what tone you model, not just what plays you call?
Do you believe louder always means clearer—or does it just mean you’ve lost your audience?
How can you channel passion without falling into the performance of “toughness”?
Player Prompts
What kind of communication actually makes you better—fear, clarity, or connection?
When your coach yells, what are you hearing: instruction or emotion?
How could you give feedback to a coach who coaches loud, but not clear?
The Sideline Blow-Up That Could Be Your Staff Meeting Agenda
I think many of you probably caught this post-game interaction between Jaguars Head Coach Liam Coen and 49ers Defensive Coordinator Robert Saleh last weekend — the culmination of a week filled with sign-stealing allegations.
For me, it’s a perfect chance to run our Self-Reflection + Self-Interrogation = Self-Awareness formula (yep, the same phrase we printed on shirts here).
There will be moments this season when another staff irritates you — a comment, a play-call, a post-game handshake. So, what boundaries are we setting now to make sure we don’t model the same kind of man-box rage in those moments?
What lines in the sand — like protecting player safety or shutting down racist, homophobic, or ableist remarks — truly warrant confrontation? And which moments demand restraint, dusting it off, and walking away?
If you hold that discussion in-house, you’re giving your staff and players the space to feel and reflect before the emotion spills out in front of the world.
Imagine showing this clip in film study. What could your guys notice? What could they learn about themselves?
Current events never fail to give us curriculum.
Coach Prompts
What boundaries do you want your staff to model when conflict hits?
How do you distinguish between defending values and feeding ego?
Have you ever pre-repped your staff for what emotional regulation should look like post-game?
Player Prompts
What do you see in this clip that reminds you of sideline moments you’ve lived?
When emotions spike, what helps you hold steady instead of reacting?
How would your team respond if one of your coaches acted like this?
Suppressed Pain, Explosive Consequences: A Challenge for Coaches
This post from @Mantalks hit me hard — especially the slide about suppressed pain in men.
“Many men grow up learning to suppress their pain—shoving it down, numbing it out, or exploding with emotional reactivity when it finally breaks through.”
This is the perfect entry point for coaches wondering if TeamsOfMen is worth their time.
Here’s the stress test: How do you respond to that statement?
If you find yourself nodding, agreeing that it’s true, then you already know your players, staff, and maybe even yourself are going to face hardships that test your ability to process pain.
If you bristle at it, or dismiss it, that’s data too. It probably means this work is going to hit uncomfortably close to home.
Either way — your response tells you if TeamsOfMen belongs in your program.
Look even one line deeper: “This repressed pain can cause men to shame others’ emotions.”
If you can’t immediately name the last time you stopped a player from doing exactly that in your locker room, you’ve got reflection work to do.
I wouldn’t call this a barrier to entry. It’s more like a Mirror Check — a way to see if you and your team can actually hold space for real growth, or if you’re just hoping your guys figure it out on their own.
Coach Prompts
When’s the last time you checked your players’ language for shaming emotions — and interrupted it?
How does your program create space for processing pain instead of burying it?
Player Prompts
What’s your go-to move when you feel hurt — shove it down, lash out, or talk it out?
Have you ever felt judged for showing emotion in this locker room?
An Overlooked Detail That Shapes How Players Learn
I hear it all the time in press conferences and postgame interviews: “Details matter.” Or, “It’s our attention to detail that sets us apart.” After nearly a quarter century of coaching, I do think there’s truth there.
So when I came across this Edutopia article and podcast episode about classroom seating arrangements, it clicked for me. Coaches love to claim the details, but how many of us ever stop to think about something as basic as how our players are sitting when we’re teaching?
We’re in classrooms all the time. Sometimes literally—like when we gather for film study. Sometimes figuratively—every huddle, every chalk talk, every timeout. And yet, I wonder how often we think about the intentional design of those moments.
This article showed different seating setups tied to different outcome goals. That’s a powerful reminder: where and how players sit shapes what they take in. I’ll be honest, I haven’t rolled out all the intentionality these educators describe. But already I’ve thought about the Socratic circle as something we could easily use to start the season. And I’ve started asking myself: what would a TeamsOfMen character session need for seating compared to a film breakdown?
If “details matter,” then this is one more place to live it.
Coach Prompts
When you set up film or team meetings, do you default to convenience—or do you design the seating for the outcome you want?
How might changing the physical arrangement of your team room impact how players engage in a character session vs. a scouting session?
Player Prompts
Think about the last time you sat in a team meeting—what did your spot or the setup do to your focus?
If you could choose the best way for your team to sit to really learn together, what would it look like?
If You Think It’s Not in Your Team Room, Prove It
I was ANGRY writing today’s blog. I saw this post, and the father bear in me raised up immediately imagining some teenage boy calling my autistic son a “Tylenol-American.”
My rage only intensified when I scrolled through the comments. Mostly fathers (or bots pretending to be dads) laughing, celebrating, and telling each other they needed to spread this garbage further.
In the midst of my anger, though, I had to recognize a hard truth: this could be happening in schools across the country. And if it’s in schools, it’s in team rooms.
Now, if your first reaction is, “Not in mine, Kip,” I hope that’s true. I hope you can point to the exact expectations and deep discussions you’ve already had with your guys that fuel your confidence.
For example: in our program, we have an explicit mandate that racist, homophobic, misogynistic, or ableist language won’t be allowed in our spaces — and we fortify that with Words Matter sessions.
I hope you can point to the last time one of your guys said the r-word, or a racist word, or “bitch,” and you modeled how to interrupt it. If you can’t, then you’ve got reflection, interrogation, and action to take up.
Because here’s the truth: autism is present in roughly 1 in every 30–35 kids. That means if you’ve got a roster that size or bigger, you already have players directly — or through a sibling, parent, or loved one — who feel this nonsense deeply. What you allow, you endorse. What you interrupt, you reshape.
Coach Prompts
What explicit expectations have you set for language in your team space?
When was the last time you modeled interrupting harmful language in real time?
Are your standards clear enough that every player knows what is and isn’t acceptable speech?
Player Prompts
Have you ever laughed along at a word or “joke” you knew was wrong because you didn’t want to stand out?
How would it feel if someone used a slur that hit you or your family directly?
What’s one way you could back up a teammate in the moment if they’re targeted by language like this?
Bad Players Avoid the Truth. Bad Coaches Do Too.
I like a lot of the stuff Coach Beckner posts. He has a nice blend of insight on both the on-court approach (especially shooting) and approach to coaching, and he delivers it in ways that are digestible.
That being said, I paused on this one because I think it needs an adjustment in language BEFORE applying to “Players.” I think you can easily replace “Players” with “Coaches”—and you SHOULD.
An analysis of coaches and their relationship to the truth MUST be undertaken (and I think following Beckner’s formula works just fine here).
Example: If I’m a BAD coach, I avoid the truth my players, my staff, and our film is showing me. Instead, I lean on tired tropes and old clichés about how to coach and play.
This is what most of the “player” or “men” language we see floating around online misses—it isn’t just athletes or men in general who need reform. Coaches do too.
We must #MirrorTrain ourselves FIRST—and probably tell our guys we’re doing that—before we ever ask them to.
Coach Prompts
When was the last time you ignored what film or feedback was showing you and stuck to clichés instead?
How often do you model self-interrogation in front of your players so they see you craving the truth too?
Player Prompts
How would you react if your coach admitted to the team, “I need to get better at facing the truth”?
Do you crave honest feedback from your coaches—or avoid it? Why?
The Conversation You’re Avoiding—And Why Your Players Need It
Eagles WR AJ Brown recent talk (shown above) is SPOT ON. This topic is probably one that players in our locker room need our voices the MOST in—but we as coaches are the LEAST likely to engage with. Porn use, and the impact it can have on a consumer’s psyche, expectations, and BEHAVIOR in intimate relationships.
The research is clear. The testimonies exist. The lived experiences we KNOW to be reality are shareable. Yet we avoid it. Out of anxiety. Out of guilt. Out of shame. And parents don’t step into the gap either.
What porn teaches our young men about women, consent, and sexual situations (real and implied) WILL affect their lives. And most likely NEGATIVELY if we continue to ignore it.
At the very least, show them this clip and ask: “What does he mean?”
Next step, take yourself on a visit to Fight the New Drug.
Level up by bringing us in to run our workshop with your staff and your guys—on all aspects of this topic. You would NEVER trust a random coach to teach your team Cover 2, a press break, or corner kick set pieces. Why on earth are we letting the adult film industry teach them about sex?
Coach Prompts
When’s the last time I created space for my players to talk honestly about what they’ve already been taught about sex and relationships?
Am I modeling emotional fluency—or avoiding hard topics out of my own discomfort?
Do I believe it’s my role to talk about this, or am I hiding behind “that’s not my job”?
Player Prompts
What messages about women and sex are you getting from porn? Do you think those are healthy or realistic?
When AJ Brown says porn “desensitizes your brain,” what does he mean? How might that show up in your life?
Who do you want teaching you about relationships: your teammates, porn, or someone you trust?
If Screaming Worked, the Cowboys Wouldn’t Have Gone 8–8
This is an old clip (no earlier than 2019 — the last year Kris Richard was Co-DC for the Cowboys) that keeps resurfacing in the “this is how you coach” or “back in the day you could yell at dudes” circles. In it, Richard is dog-cussing LBs Sean Lee and Leighton Vander Esch on the sideline. And according to the group-think logic, because he’s letting them have it, they’re somehow more coachable, accountable, locked in, etc.
I have so many issues with that logic. Let’s start with the leap that a simple head nod and lack of verbal pushback means the players are learning or improving from what’s being screamed at them. If that were true, why did the Cowboys go 8–8 and Richard get fired? If raising your voice and proximity yelling makes players better, why not do it Monday–Friday so Saturday or Sunday isn’t wasted on tirades?
There’s a whole other post to be written about how this models emotional illiteracy and a lack of regulation, but here’s the bottom line: just because they nod “yes sir” doesn’t mean you coached effectively.
Now push it further: if you showed this video to your guys and asked them, “Brave space: does this remind you of a moment I did to you?” — what would they say? How many examples would they recall?
Let’s be better.
Coach Prompt
When you replay tough coaching moments in your own head — are you measuring success by player compliance (head nods, silence) or by actual comprehension and growth?
Player Prompt
When your coach raises their voice at you, do you actually learn something, or are you just trying to get through the moment without making it worse?
When the Lights Go Out, Who Are You?
Have you ever been in a school-wide POWER OUTAGE?
That was the reality I woke up to yesterday — South Salem HS completely dark. Unfortunate timing, because it also meant the second-year launch of our Positive Masculinity Club (pizza lunch + discussion format) had to be pushed back a month.
Here’s the conundrum: I had a Prezi show built and ready to roll. Slides, facilitator notes, prompts — everything was loaded. And suddenly the lights go out. No session. No conversation. Just a fully prepped plan sitting on my desktop.
So, what do you do with that?
That’s how we ended up HERE. The school may have gone dark, but I decided to share the spark anyway.
The outage made me think: what happens when the structure breaks down?
When the lights literally go out — or when they go out inside a young man.
We’ve all seen it: the crashouts on the football field, the blackout moments in the heat of competition where passion turns reckless and someone gets hurt. Those are the moments when the score doesn’t matter, when all the coaching in the world seems to vanish, and choices reveal character.
So the question is: when chaos hits, do we panic? Do we posture? Or do we choose curiosity, growth, and integrity — even in the dark?
Coach Prompts
When structure breaks down in your program, how do your players react?
Are your team’s “rules” built for when things go smoothly — or for when chaos hits?
How can you simulate moments of lost control in practice to build resilience?
Player Prompts
Think about a time something didn’t go as planned in a game or practice — what did you do?
What version of you shows up when the lights go out?
Who do you become when nobody’s keeping score?
Why Coaches Think This Work Isn’t for Their Guys — and Why They’re Wrong
I must give full credit to a colleague of mine (Maddie Brockbank) for the inspiration behind today’s post and prompts. It comes directly from listening to her presentation “Stories, Strategies and Impact” and a question she posed to the audience during that I am applying to coaches here today.
When you, as a coach, see a flyer, poster, or ad for something in your community — Take Back the Night, Hands Off, or even the street harassment flyer above — what’s your first thought? Do you see it as a growth opportunity for your guys? Do you imagine what support or insight they might gain from attending? Or do you immediately start rattling off reasons why it’s “not for them”?
That’s the exercise today. Ask yourself: why don’t you believe it applies to your program? And if you can’t see the relevance for your players, is that because of them — or because of you?
Maddie’s point was that we can’t authentically challenge our guys to step up in these spaces if we aren’t willing to ask those questions of ourselves and our staff first. Too often, young men shrug off the invitation with “I’m one of the good guys.” But if we as coaches echo that same posture — that gender violence prevention, anti-harassment, or healthy masculinity work is “someone else’s thing” — then we’ve already failed in creating a culture where showing up matters.
Coach Prompt
When a prevention or awareness event pops up in your community, what’s your first instinct about involving your players — and what does that say about the standards you’re modeling?
Player Prompt
When you see a flyer or post about an event addressing harassment or violence, what’s your gut reaction? Do you dismiss it, or do you consider how it might connect to your life and your team?
T-Shirts Speak Loudly—What Are Yours Saying?
I actually really like Travis Kelce and his brother Jason. I have ZERO issue with him being Taylor Swift's fiancé (I love Taylor Swift) and I’m a big fan of Andy Reid’s creative mind.
What I do NOT like is the weaponization of what I’ve long trumpeted as the “TeamsOfMen guy”: the power of T-shirts.
Shirts are the quickest way to gauge someone’s beliefs and get someone to ask a question. Wear anything with a message or a picture and people will side-eye you and either agree, disagree, or ask. You’ve seen the faces. You’ve seen the smirks. You know I’m right. That’s why we sell the shirts we do.
But THIS shirt—“Free Rashee Rice”—while it absolutely states exactly what the Chiefs think about the NFL’s punishment of their teammate (for his offseason high-speed crash that led to a hit-and-run and jail sentence) reeks of something else entirely:
“Accountability feels like an attack when you’re not ready to accept responsibility.”
And it’s doubly silly for his TEAMMATES to wear it. They know what he did. They know he isn’t sitting in prison right now. They know he’s just missing four games (a relatively low bar of punishment for what could have been much worse). And they know he’ll be back running routes and catching touchdowns soon enough.
This goes past “have your brother’s back” and edges into something more dangerous:
“Being part of our team excuses you—or even enables you—to act a fool when you’re not in our uniform.”
Why not wear something like “Loving Rashee to Growth” or “Our Guy Will Be Better” and use THAT as the statement? Support doesn’t have to mean excuse.
Coach Prompts
What message do you send when your team rallies around a player in trouble—do your actions reinforce accountability or excuse it?
If your players wanted to wear a shirt like this in your program, how would you respond?
Do you create space for “support without excuse” in your locker room?
Player Prompts
What’s the difference between having someone’s back and excusing their harmful actions?
How would you want your teammates to show support if YOU were the one in trouble?
Can loyalty still mean accountability?
It’s Easy to Say “Not My Guys”—Until It Is
One of my “Kip-isms” I share often with coaches when they’re exploring the why and how of TeamsOfMen conversations with players is this: current events never fail to give you curriculum. Yesterday’s college football slate proved it again.
(NOTE: this isn’t some kind of testimony to the “evil of football.” Despite spending my entire life coaching hoops, I’m probably more of a fan of the gridiron.)
The three incidents in the images above—Arch Manning taunting an opponent, a UAB player intentionally stomping on the Tennessee kicker’s foot, and a high school football player crashing out and swinging at a helmetless opponent—are ripe for both staff review and player discussion.
Too often when we see trending clips of athletes losing emotional regulation and lashing out, we respond in one of two ways:
That would never happen to my guys.
That dude would be gone from our program.
Maybe both are true in your case. But I’d bet the coaches of these same athletes would have said the same thing 24 hours earlier.
The reality is this: if we aren’t reflecting on and interrogating the processes we have in place to prevent these kinds of outbursts, then we’re just finger-pointing. And if we aren’t discussing what our actual response and rehabilitation path would be—beyond platitudes—then we’re not preparing ourselves or our players.
We can’t settle for distance or denial. We need to embrace #MirrorTraining.
Coach Prompts
When’s the last time we actually repped emotional regulation like we do a drill, instead of just assuming it will show up on game day?
If this happened in our program tomorrow, do we know what the consequence and the rehabilitation path would look like?
Do we only talk about composure when things go wrong, or are we embedding it in daily practice plans?
Player Prompts
How do you usually release energy when you’re hyped before a game?
What’s the line between confidence and disrespect? Who draws that line—you, your coach, or the officials?
When a teammate loses control, do you step in, stay silent, or join in? Why?