It's Not Personal. It's ADHD
You’ve heard about this kid. Ricky’s his name. Your buddy coached him last year in rec league. He’s only a freshman, so a bit of a surprise that he’s trying out for varsity, but rumor has it he’s a lightning fast forward and can sub pretty well at goalie too. You’re intrigued.
You’ve also heard he can be a loose cannon. Runs hot and cold. One day he’s tearing it up; the next his head is in the clouds. Not sure you want to deal with that. Too much drama and not fair to the kids who’d count on him.
Ricky rocks the first day of tryouts. Breaks the school’s 22-year-old sprint record. Six goals in the 3-on-3. Five tough saves at goalie. On time, cheerful, really hustling.
Second day, not so much. Slow and edgy. Argues with a teammate over Gatorade, shoves and elbows on the field, eyes are everywhere but on you during instructions. It makes you so darn mad when kids squander talent.
It’s back and forth all week – on/off, hot/cold, with you/out to lunch. You’re not sure if he’s lazy or full of himself or both. Staff wants to cut him before the final scrimmages. But there’s something about this kid. You decide to give him another chance.
You find yourself thinking about him all morning – his energy, flashes of enthusiasm, charisma – and at lunchtime find yourself wandering down to visit Joe, your former high school teammate and now the freshman guidance counselor. Maybe he’ll be able to shed some light on the flip-side of this kid.
Turns out he can. The counselor has been working with Ricky since last summer, when his parents brought him in to plan for how to manage his significant ADHD.
Everything Joe says squares with what you’ve been seeing at tryouts.
Turns out one of the little-known characteristics of ADHD is inconsistent performance. Ricky’s not lazy or conceited. In fact, he’s harder on himself than you ever would be. It drives him crazy that some days he can focus his energies, cut through any defense, dive at just the right time to knock a corner shot from the goal – while other days he feels like a thick fog clouds his brain and drains his legs and it’s all he can do to get himself to practice on time (maybe).
He’s angry at himself, at his incredibly frustrating brain. It makes him anxious too, not being able to control how he’ll show up on any given day. That’s what drives the arguing and the shoving. He’s working with Joe on strategies to deal with the frustration, but it’s tough. The inconsistency is part of how he’s wired. That’s not going away.
You’re stunned. Your own frustration subsides, replaced by your coaching instincts. You want to know how you can help Ricky – and, frankly, how you can bring out the best in Ricky so that he can help the team.
Joe’s advice: Get to know Ricky. Let him know you want to understand what makes him tick and what’s hard for him. Educate yourself about ADHD, and adjust your expectations. That’s not the same as lowering the bar. It means recognizing the biology behind the athlete’s behaviors and helping him to reach the bar in a way that works for him, even if that’s unconventional.
Joe actually suggests making Ricky a junior captain, responsible for being early to practice and setting up for workouts. Seems counter-intuitive, but he says these kids often can rise to the occasion when an adult they admire (not a parent) expresses confidence in them. He says maybe drop by Ricky’s last period class for the first few weeks (ask Ricky first) to make sure he’s on top of his homework and ready for practice. Become the person he trusts to get it — get him — and he’ll relax, which also goes a long way.
But, Joe says, don’t get flustered when (not if) Ricky messes up. The inconsistency piece is one of the major stumbling blocks for adults who live and work with kids with ADHD – and as a result also for the kids. It’s what can make the behaviors seem so maddeningly intentional. Surprising to learn that they’re not.
You leave Joe’s office with a head full of thoughts and a yellow sticky note that Joe says to put on your clipboard. On the note, Joe wrote in bold letters:
IT’S NOT PERSONAL. HELP HIM THRIVE.
You meet your head assistant on the way out to the field. Apparently, Ricky is running hot today, not racking up goals, but shrugging off coaches and needling teammates. You take a breath, press your sticky note onto your clipboard and head outside. Joe didn’t promise any magic bullets; helping Ricky thrive will be hard. But you have a feeling it will be very worth it – for Ricky, for the team and for you.