It starts out innocent enough.You’ve got a drill. A good one. Maybe it’s something you saw in a college film breakdown or borrowed from a clinic a few months back. You gather the kids at midfield, excited, ready to explain. And then it happens.
You start talking.And talking.And talking.
Three minutes in, half the kids are picking up grass. One kid’s stretching for no reason. Another’s already wandered to the water bottle pile like it’s an oasis. And just like that, you’ve lost them. The drill hasn’t even started, and the session’s already behind schedule.
I’ve been there. Hell, I still end up there more than I’d like to admit.