Hawk Talk: Playoff time

I will never be satisfied. He will never be satisfied.

Last week, I traveled with the boys up north. I don’t usually ride the bus, as I prefer the din of my own inner dialogue after games. I decided to give a speech, even though I was exhausted from working the last two weekends in a row for the prep and NCAA championships. As a result, the speech was mostly improvised with a critical bit I borrowed from an unlikely source: Hamilton.

Hamilton is a musical about founding father Alexander Hamilton that became a nationwide obsession right before the world, you know, plunged into hopelessness and started washing their groceries.

In the musical, there is a flashback scene where Angelica Schuyler, the sister of Hamilton’s future wife, Elizabeth Schuyler (spoiler, I suppose, for the last 175 years), meets the titular character at a party.

The exchange goes like this:

Hamilton: You strike me as a woman who has never been satisfied.
Angelica: I'm sure I don't know what you mean, you forget yourself.
Hamilton: You're like me, I'm never satisfied.
Angelica: Is that right?
Hamilton: I've never been satisfied.

Now, it’s actually a lot more rizzed up than it reads on the screen, but essentially, Hamilton is saying that he’s a relentless person in all aspects of his life. And man, in this sport, in this life, and in this moment of the season - I couldn’t have identified more. The conceit of Hamilton, who was also a psychotically prolific writer, is an easy concept to latch onto for a guy like me.

So, on the bus, I recounted a story of a former colleague asking me about what I’m doing now at the NCAA Final Four at Gillette. I didn’t really want to be in the conversation to begin with, but my external facade is such that I can now conceal my disdain for at least 2-3 minutes before my real emotions bubble to the surface. In the middle of the conversation, I just started thinking about Hopkinton and how I can move certain guys into different spots to see how they respond and th-

Oh. No. This guy just asked me a question, and he’s now staring at me for a response. I have no idea what to say back, so I dig into my bag of conversational colloquialisms and I just go “Oh, damn, dude that’s Craaayyyzzzy. Ok, uh, I have to prep for this next game, talk soon!” and scurried off to my computer.

I told the kids that story to blank faces. Then I followed it up with this:

“My job is to write about lacrosse. But it is not my purpose. It is not what I think about all the time. I can’t sleep at night because…this team is what I think about all the time. I know a bunch of you think I’m too intense. Some of you might even think that I’m crazy.”

I dropped my head and laughed a crazy laugh (the kids call it my “evil laugh”) to myself before starting again. What I was really doing was stifling a tear from dropping out of my eye behind my sunglasses. Because the fundamental truth of my life for the last five years was about to pour out of me.

“Do you know how many people have told me that I’m crazy in the past 25 years? Do you have any idea how much easier it would be if I was crazy? Sometimes I wish that I were. Because what I am is much scarier than that. I’m a person who is never satisfied. With anything. You are not going to meet that many people who are like that in your life. When you do, you better hope that they’re on your side. We are always on your side - no matter what happens. But today, I’m going to ask you for more. I want you to play like the next goal, the next stop, will never be enough. Because someday, it won’t. Someday, you’re going to regret not giving 100% to everything you do for this team. The seniors already feel it. One day you will too. So, today I’m challenging you to play like you’ll never be satisfied - because that’s what it takes to win.”

The kids clapped and cheered. The head coach said, “And that’s why you go second in the pregame speeches.” I smiled. But I didn’t feel any better. About anything.

The truth, my truth, didn’t change the outcome.

We lost the game.

The playoffs start on Saturday, and we are playing the same team at home.

I love this team.

I love these kids.

I love coaching at Hop.

But - I’ll never be satisfied.