Measuring Success in More Ways Than One

The rain came down in steady sheets, soaking the field and stretching the mesh in our lacrosse sticks. But if you looked at my team, you would’ve thought it was a bright, sunny day.

When the final whistle blew, the girls screamed, jumped, and hugged like they had just won the championship. And in a way, they had — because this wasn’t just our first win of the season. It was the reward for every moment of growth that led up to it.

Coaching this team has changed the way I think about success. It’s easy to tie it to obvious things — the goals, the wins, the highlight moments. And believe me, I understand the hunger for those.

One of my players has been determined all season to score a goal. She’s convinced that's the way she'll prove her worth on the team, the way she’ll finally feel like a "good player."

But what she doesn’t always see is the way she already shines.

She doesn’t see the perfectly timed passes she makes that set her teammates up for goals.

She doesn’t see how her voice organizes the field, how her energy sparks a play before it even happens.

She doesn’t realize that her teammates trust her because she shows up — and that trust is worth more than a scoreboard will ever say.

And then there’s our goalie story — a perfect reminder that success isn’t always planned.

Earlier this season, we lost our starting goalie. It could have been a setback we never recovered from. Instead, every girl took a turn stepping into the cage, rotating through nerves and newness, until one player found her moment.

On a rainy, afternoon, she stepped into goal, broke out of her shell, and absolutely crushed it.

She was loud, fearless, and commanding. She made save after save — even after taking a shot straight to the neck.

She didn’t just protect the goal that day.

She owned it.

And in doing so, she showed all of us a different kind of victory: the kind that comes from stepping up when it's hardest.

Every player on this team has made their own kind of progress:

Some found their voice.

Some discovered how strong they really are.

Some learned that failing doesn’t mean stopping — it means trying again, smarter and braver.

Success has a thousand definitions.

It’s the girl who used to be too shy to call for the ball now shouting across the field.

It’s the player who couldn't make it through a drill at the beginning of the season now sprinting to the finish.

It’s the team that believed in each other even before the scoreboard gave them permission.

Progress is not a consolation prize. It is the prize.

Progress is perfection.

So yes, we won our first game — and it felt amazing.

But what I'll remember even more is everything that led up to it: every struggle, every breakthrough, every moment when someone chose to keep going.

And if you ask me, we were already champions long before that final whistle blew.