I am not much of a fan of the current Berkeley-espoused idea that competition is in some fashion bad for kids. There is no such thing as a 'loser' in my personal philosophy, but there is plenty of room for winners. Even if my team goes 0-6, I feel confident that my coaching style will give them something positive to take from the season.

But my goal is to win.

As a youth coach, I operate under the assumption that my responsibility is to improve the players on my team; to make them competitive, teach them how to play as a team, and yes, to teach them to win.

Youth sports is not entirely about numbers on a scoreboard, but the kids want to win just as badly as their adult counterparts in the NFL and NCAA do, except my players exhibit a considerable amount more class, discipline, self-respect, and sportsmanship.

Part of winning is putting forth a winning effort. This starts in practice, and then carries forth onto the game field.

A game is simply an extension of the week's practice. This is a point of view. In all seriousness, a game should be used by any decent coach as an opportunity to give his weaker players experience. I, personally, have a hard and fast substitution rule. To start with, I have a minimum play rule of eight plays for every player. This rule is my own, and not my league's. Accompanying this rule is a rule for the coaches: at any time in the game, when the score shows my team either up by two touchdowns or down by three my starters leave the field, beginning with the defense and the starting offensive backfield. This can happen as early as the first quarter, and has done so.

In fact, a number of the starters on my last team in later games earned their positions by demonstrating their effectiveness in our first two games. Once they developed some confidence in themselves and their talents, they practiced harder, and virtually flew up the depth charts. It took game day pressure to find the diamonds in them.

Perhaps I am of a different, older time. I remember very clearly a day when my game day playing time was correlated directly with my attitude and effort on the practice field. Although it might not fit the current trend of "everyone plays, everyone wins" and "everyone who shows up gets a trophy" I believe that the biggest motivator to any football player is the depth chart. If a player has the proper respect for his coach, then he will understand the coach's respect for him when he is named a starter.

What does it tell the starter, who practiced with bumps and bruises, studied his playbook, sweated during conditioning and drills, and worked hard through a week's worth of difficult practices, when he is routinely benched so another player, who jogged during sprints, never opened his playbook, and practiced in a lackadaisical fashion, can assume his place on the game field? Excessive minimum play rules generally interfere with the self-confidence of the starters more than they help build the self-confidence of the backups. The kids know who deserves the position. Kids are not dumb, regardless what the current pop-culture psychobabble declares.

What does it do to the team when the third stringer makes a key mistake and allows a 75 yard touchdown that costs them the game? Should the other twenty-three players pay the price for one kid's lack of growth as a player? Or should we instead train that player as well as we can, and hope that he matures into a better player for the future?

I know where my money sits. It hurts to lose your starting position to a player that doesn't deserve it.

A story from my high school days: I was the smallest member of my high school football team as a 108 pound sophomore free safety. I worked hard, and earned a starting position on the junior varsity team.

However, my coach refused to start me. I was benched, and when I inquired as to the reason, I was told, "We're playing a big team. You could get hurt." Those two sentences hurt me far more than any 210 pound running back ever could have.

My backup missed two practices that week for unspecified reasons. He still started, despite his never earning the privilege.

Fortunately for me, the Varsity Coach was at that game, and at halftime asked why I was not on the field. The Varsity Coach had personally done the depth charts, and knew I was supposed to be starting. After hearing the excuses from my coach, he finally said, "Fine, don't play him. We'll use him tomorrow." I played the rest of the season as a varsity player, and although I never managed to start, I played the time I earned. Although I was never the first on the field, I am proud of the games I did play in, and the chances I was given by my coach because I earned them.

Fear of failure is a powerful motivator. The United States Armed Forces are, arguably, the most powerful military in the world. As a "survivor" of a boot camp that was in many ways far more lax than a football practice, I can tell you with assurance that consistent, external discipline will breed consistent self-discipline. Many of the motivators in basic training are "negative". They are sticks, rather than carrots. For example, recruits are taught the sixteen count Manual of Arms, and practice diligently, because failure to execute the proper techniques results in a chewing out from the Company Commander.

Recruits memorize hundreds of daily terms and definitions, knowing at any moment they could be called on to repeat them, and failure to do so correctly will result in a humiliating browbeating session at best, and a lot of sweating at worst.

The result is the finest military in the world. The United States Coast Guard, of which I am a proud member, saves over 9000 lives annually, and protects some $450 million worth of property every year.

Are youth players in the military? No. Should they be treated as if they were? The answer to that is something every coach needs to find out for himself.

In 1999, my last season as a head coach, it was obvious during the very first game which teams were going to win the championships in their respective divisions. A local high school senior sang the National Anthem before the kickoff of the junior division's first game.

During the song, in the junior division, one team chased each other around, wrestled and goofed off. Another team stood in lines, but half of them wore their helmets and they talked during the music. Another team held their helmets in their left hands and had their right hands over their hearts. They stood in four straight lines and kept their eyes on the flag. They spoke not a word.

Respectively, these teams finished last, second, and first. This was duplicated almost exactly by the senior division. My team, the Kodiak Lion's Club Lions was the one standing in straight, silent, lines; with heads up and helmets off. We finished 6-0 that year, and were, by far, the most disciplined team in our division. Youth sports, especially football, have a powerful ability to create virtues in young men and women. Sports teach teamwork, honor, sportsmanship, devotion to a goal, and selflessness. All of these traits are positive, and all of them are increasingly harder and harder to teach to children in a world where they can simply hit a reset button if the Nintendo game they're playing doesn't go as planned.

Part of being a player is being a teammate, and part of being a teammate is being willing to earn your position on the depth chart. If you haven't earned it, you shouldn't expect it.

Part of being a coach is making a commitment to all players. My starters know that they start because Coach Wade believes in them, and they have demonstrated the desire to play through hard work and, here's the word again: discipline. The backups know that if they work hard enough then they too will be able to represent their football team with their play on the field. No one on my team ever thinks, "Why practice hard? I'll get to play anyway." Or, "Why practice hard? Coach is only going to take my position away and give it to someone else."

I think a quote I found on a tee shirt a few weeks ago serves best: "If you want to play, train your body. But if you want to win, train your heart." This means practicing as hard as you can and earning your rightful place on the playing field.

And, for the coach, it means giving every player the chance to succeed, not giving them a free position they haven't earned.