Feeling After a Loss Isn’t Weakness — It’s Humanity
This post is exactly why coaching can feel impossible — and why so many coaches end up passing down the same emotional pain we get hit with from the outside world.
Kansas State’s Chris Klieman tears up after a 51–47 roller coaster of a game — momentum swings, big plays, heavy pressure, questionable calls, the whole thing — and somehow the reaction from fans is… “weak-minded.” As if money makes a person immune to emotional overload. As if a man’s only acceptable response to heartbreak is stoicism.
This is socialization in real time. The world literally telling a man: don’t feel, don’t express, don’t show anything real unless it’s victory.
And here’s the connection that matters for coaches: when we’re trained to numb ourselves, we end up training our players to numb themselves too.
Which is why moments like this are perfect teaching clips. Because in our program — from head coach to manager, starter to scout — we feel all the feels. We don’t shame it. We don’t hide it. We make space for fluency, growth, and connection, scoreboard be damned.
That’s the work. That’s the antidote to this nonsense.
COACH PROMPTS
When’s the last time you modeled emotional honesty for your players — not just emotional control?
What expectations have you internalized from fans, boosters, or culture that end up hurting your team?
How would your program shift if players saw vulnerability as competence, not weakness?
PLAYER PROMPTS
Who taught you that feeling something after a loss makes you soft — and were they right?
How do emotions actually show up in your game: do you bottle them, or use them?
How would your team change if everyone felt safe being real after big moments?
