Earning Playing Time
I watched a girls’ varsity basketball game this season, and one team had only five players. I did not recognize one player despite watching them previously. I asked if she was new. The coach said no, then mentioned several girls had quit. He started the season with 11 players and was down to seven. He could not believe it.
I saw the team a few weeks later with six players. This player was gone. The coach did not substitute until one minute remained in the first half, and a player was limping. The same occurred in the second half. He did not substitute until the game was decided with two minutes to play. He took out the injured player again.
This was not high-level basketball. The best player was a freshman soccer player, and their other all-league player skipped games to go to an out-of-state club soccer tournament. The school is small and plays against other small schools. They played a team with four players in one game, and another against a team who had the state’s leading scorer who scored literally all the points; she scored 31 of 35 points in the game I saw.
What do coaches expect when even the team’s sixth player barely plays? I thought the fifth and sixth players were twins because they looked so similar. There was virtually no difference between them. One played 32 minutes; the other played three. The seventh through 11th players quit, apparently. Why play when the coach does not want you?
Coaches contend they do not determine playing time; players determine playing time with their practice performance and commitment. They suggest players earn their playing time. This is rarely untrue. Coaches generally play their best players.
Playing the best players is not wrong, per se. The best players provide the best opportunity to win games, and varsity (or college) basketball is a competitive level where winning is important, if not the primary goal. The best players may be the best because they invest more time, work harder, train on their own, and more. They may earn their status as the best players through their effort and dedication, and the coach rewards their work with playing time. This certainly happens and is completely understandable.
Other players are the best simply because they are taller, older, more mature, more confident, more coordinated, and more. They are no more committed, nor do they work harder. They may have better genetics or learn quicker or had coaches who played them more previously, giving them confidence that possibly belies their actual talent and skill level. They did not necessarily earn their playing time.
Playing time is the biggest conflict between players and coaches, and the number one complaint from parents. Coaches insist they are at the practices and know their teams better than anyone; parents and others outside the team do not see every practice. This is true. However, I have worked with several teams as an assistant coach and strength & conditioning coach, attending every or nearly every practice and game, and my view did not always align with the head coach. Who’s right?
There may not be a right answer. The difference may be perspective or opinion shaped by the skills or playing style one values the most. I value shooting and passing, and may overlook some other deficiencies; another coach may value toughness and hustle and overlook a superior shooter or passer. One is not necessarily more right than the other. They are opinions, just as many argued whether Nikola Jokić or Joel Embiid was the better player before Embiid’s injury.
The problem is when players feel hopeless, like there is nothing they can do to earn playing time. Playing time is the symptom; the problem is the erosion of trust and belief in the coach’s words. The coach tells the player to earn the playing time, and the player does everything the coach asks, and nothing changes. Instead, players see others as the coach’s favorites because they play regardless of their mistakes, practice habits, and more.
As an example, an NCAA D1 player asked his head coach about his playing time at the end of the season. The team had a below-average season, and the team was among the league’s worst shooting teams. The player was far and away their best shooter, and arguably the league’s best shooter, but rarely played after returning from injury.
The coach responded the player was not sufficiently dedicated in his voluntary workouts. The player did not shoot the most shots, which were tracked on an app attached to a shooting machine in voluntary workouts outside the 20 hours of team practice. Instead, the player attempted the third most shots, while shooting the highest percentage. The head coach suggested he would have spent more time on the shooting machine than anyone on the team if he really wanted to earn playing time. Shooting was the player’s biggest strength, and he shot the highest percentage. Wouldn’t a more appropriate criticism be that he only worked on his strengths and did not spend enough time in the weight room or on some part of his game that was not already elite?
He was not cleared to participate in on-court activities until December. The others had a three to four month head start, and he still passed all but two players. Yet, the coach used this to demonstrate his lack of commitment. The coach simply looked around to find any possible excuse to explain an otherwise inexplicable decision. The team underperformed because of a lack of shooting, and the coach did not play their best shooter, and the explanation is he did not work out more in three months than the others did in six. How does a player trust the coach after such a discussion? The coach clearly is lying or making excuses; why believe him?
The frustration generally occurs most when coaches tell players to earn the playing time, but the bar moves constantly. One player makes mistake after mistake, but is never substituted and never loses playing time, but another player is substituted after ever mistake and playing time dwindles, as the coach notices only the mistakes, and the player has fewer minutes to make good plays because he only plays one minute if he misses his first shot. Players notice these things, and this favoritism can erode trust in the coach, even in the players not directly involved.
I had three players this season with a young, small, under-talented team who I could not take of the court if we wanted to compete. They did not practice any harder or demonstrate a greater commitment; they were bigger, stronger, more experienced, and shot better than the others. The reasons they played more were largely out of their control: Primarily height, strength, and experience. It was not fair, but varsity basketball is not set up to be fair. I never said they earned their playing time; I said we could not compete with them on the bench. This, I believe, is more common than players earning playing time through practice. Some players are bigger, better, more experienced.
I changed starting lineups nearly every game. I started a player one game because I mentioned him repeatedly during the previous practice as someone playing hard. What would it say about me if I stressed working harder and being more committed, then did not reward the player who I repeatedly identified the previous day? He earned the start.
I did not use the competitive cauldron (see The 21st Century Basketball Practice) with this team because of our schedule and lack of gym, but I have used the cauldron to decide starting lineups previously. Players earned their starting positions through practice performance, as measured by wins during practice. I did not determine starters based on the cauldron at the college level, but used the results when discussing playing time with unhappy players. Why do you deserve more playing time when you are last in practice wins? Why should I ignore practice performance to play you more?
I coached two young players who had combined to play fewer than 100 minutes in the previous season during my first season as a professional coach. They were 17 and 19, and hopeful when I was hired, as they knew the previous coach would never play them, and there was nowhere else for them to go, as we lived on an island.
They grew frustrated after the first few games when they did not play much, as it seemed like more of the same. I met with them and told them what they needed to do to earn playing time. I gave them a chance when they accomplished those things, which upset the veterans who were comfortable in their roles.
The player who lost the most playing time was the previous coach’s favorite. She was unaccustomed to not starting and being a featured player. She was upset, as she felt she was better than the teenagers. I met with her away from the court to inform her I was replacing her in the starting lineup. She could not believe it. The previous coach, who was also my assistant, argued with me. He said she was the team’s best shooter; I pointed out she was shooting 22% from the three-point line. He said she was the team’s best defender; I asked him to watch the film, as she continually gave up straight-line drives.
He suffered from an anchoring bias based on his history with the players. He remembered her from her peak and ignored her struggles. He saw the teenagers as immature beginners from previous seasons and ignored their improvements. He did not believe in players earning playing time; he believed in the veterans who were his players.
When I met with the teenagers, I told them to stop guarding each other in practice; match up against the players at their positions who were ahead of them and outplay them. I told one she could be the league’s best perimeter defender, but had to show she was competent offensively. I told the other she was just as quick and shot just as well as the player in front of her; there was no reason she could not outplay her and assume the role.
They did what I asked. They worked more outside of practice. They worked harder in practice because they trusted me. I played them when they earned the playing time. I rewarded their effort and improvement. They earned their playing time, while the veterans remained comfortable in their positions and relied on the assistant coach to advocate for them.
The best players play. We know this. Some question who really is the best player, especially when other players do not receive the same opportunities. Some players are not objectively the best, but fit the coach’s system and beliefs the best; the shooter may have helped his team because he filled their biggest weakness, but he clearly did not fit the coach’s defensive-oriented, pound the ball inside style. These mismatches happen and are not necessarily right or wrong.
Problems occur when coaches stress earning playing time, as though the player is in control, but do not reward the players who do everything asked. The goal posts move. Players feel they have no control.
There are reasonable explanations, especially in the minds of coaches. The coach worries about playing a less-experienced player or disrupting the team cohesion. Often, players can understand these too when they are explained and when the coach is truthful. I apologized to a player this year and told him I knew he was losing playing time because I had the three guys who had to play, which meant rotating up to 10 players through two positions. I was honest with him and told him what he needed to do to take minutes from the three or establish himself as the fourth player who cannot come off the court if we wanted to be competitive.
Tryouts and playing time are the hardest part of coaching. Too often, coaches exacerbate problems by being overly defensive. Players are smart. Most can handle some honest conversations. But, if promises are made, such as do xyz to earn more playing time, the coach must follow through when the player does xyz, otherwise players lose their trust in the coach, and that typically initiates the death spiral for the team, the coach, or both. It is the beginning of the end.