The life of a coach goes something like this: gets up early, goes to office, teaches class or watches film, meets with other coaches, has a lunch meeting, goes over more film, reviews scouting reports, teaches more class, prepares for team meetings, has team meetings, has team practice, has follow-up meetings with coaches and players, and finally leaves for home. Once they get home, they review homework, chat with their spouse, spend time with kids, read a bedtime story, make a couple of calls, and finally eat dinner.

Obviously, the life of a coach is a busy one — sometimes too busy. But is something missing? How could anything more possibly fit into that busy day? What is missing is vitally important, eternally important. This is where the squeeze comes in.

The perfect season was in 1972 when the Miami Dolphins did the improbable. They won seventeen games (including the Super Bowl) in a row. People still call them one of the greatest teams of all time. On the other side of the coin, Northwestern lost thirty-four games in a row over a four-year period. The adjectives used to describe these teams were much different. Streaks—either you love them or you hate them. If you are on a roll and winning games, then everything seems to go your way. But if the steak is the other kind—the bad kind, the losing streak—then it seems the harder you try, the more small things grow into huge problems. When you have been on both sides, you learn the difference between winning and losing is very small.

As coaches, we are supposed to teach our players about the game and about life lessons. Sometimes, the reverse happens and our players teach us a valuable lesson. The day before my first home football game of the season, my senior quarterback boldly stood up in front of the entire team and coaches and quoted the above Scripture.