There are people in my life that I will forever call “Coach.” Some I played for, some I coached alongside, some I only watched (from near or afar). It is a term of respect with sincerity unmatched by other titles in my vocabulary. I might nervously utter “Your Excellency”, “Your Honor”, even “Your Air-ness” with awe, but absent the gratitude and depth of feeling with which I call a man or woman, “Coach.”
A coach is a teacher, a mentor, a motivator, a leader. The ones I’ve loved most possessed a humble, self-deprecating manner that made me as a player think it was my smarts and my strategy out there on the field, unaware of their ever-present guidance. To coach well is not a light job; the hours spent at practice are dwarfed by the hours spent off the field. As a young coach, I was eager to display my lacrosse IQ. But that’s not the role. It’s not what you know, but whether you can impart that information, inspire, and ignite a passion in others, even if they might not realize until years later, if ever, the extent of their Coach’s dedication and direction.
I was fortunate to play for Dave Urick. Coach U is the humblest of men and the most decent of men. He urged all his players to give back to the game that had given them so much, and his is a legacy so vast that lacrosse across the country and beyond will forever be cared for by men who played for Coach U, and in turn by those who played for these men and got their Urick-isms secondhand.
My current contribution to the game is my art. This piece, of Hobart players from Dave’s coaching tenure there painted on the field against Georgetown players from his decades there, is an anachronistic fantasy. Depicted are men who perhaps played before the competitor painted next to them ever held a stick. It is a tribute to the man shown on both those sidelines. And behind him, seen and unseen, rows and rows deep, are all of us who played for him.
The original (Acrylic on board, 18x36) is for Coach. But prints are available FRAMED here: https://www.levelframes.com/limited/dju
or unframed here:
Here's a short video with a bit of the process:
or unframed here:
