"We don't coach to win. We coach winning soccer."
Most coaches get handed practice plans — or go searching for them. BYSA hands its coaches something different: the game's Principles of Play, and a format-by-format Game Model — the formation, the style, what each season builds on — that every team is expected to follow up the Pathway. This course teaches the part in between — how. How kids actually learn, how to turn principles into a Tuesday practice with the players who actually show up, and how to keep a nine-year-old in love with the game.
Club level coaching at town level prices — this course is how we keep that promise.
Audience
One room, the whole Pathway. Safety, weather, playing time and the other universals are already covered for every coach in the online course — this is the next layer.
The core audience. 7v7 is the first rung where a volunteer designs and runs their own practices — the course's examples live here.
New coaches step in at 9v9 too, and they need the same foundation. The field examples run at 7v7; the method is the Pathway's, at every format.
Travel coaches apply — the coaching director vets candidates and watches practices. For a Grade 1/2 parent thinking about applying when their kid reaches 3rd grade, this course is the on-ramp: see what the job actually is, with the town behind you.
The core sessions serve in-town too — with the emphasis shifted hard toward fun, not winning. Running up scores, not adjusting to the game in front of you, adult egos souring a kids' Saturday: these are live problems, and the course takes them head-on. (A dedicated in-town evening — "They Play for Fun" — is already drafted.)
Delivery
A short core course plus follow-ups across the year, matched to our actual calendar: two 8–10 week seasons, two preseasons, a winter break.
The content
Each message gets expanded live — some for two minutes, some for twenty — and most are already backed by a full video for anyone who wants the complete argument. Tap any message to open it.
Everyone will hand you practice plans — the club, the internet, a book, an app. What to teach is everywhere. What nobody hands you is how: how kids actually learn, and how to get it from the page into their feet. That's the real job, and it's a teaching job. The good news — you don't need a teaching degree. You need a handful of moves, and you already do half of them by accident. We name them so you can do them on purpose.
Three versions of the same trap. How you were coached: "it was good for me" isn't a reason to keep doing it 20–30 years later — teachers also smoked in the classroom back then, and we don't do that now. Where you learned the game: if you grew up inside it, nobody taught you — the street did, the TV did, pickup did. Our kids have no street. How well you played: playing and teaching are different skills — the best managers in the world were mostly average players. However you got here, these kids need a different way in.
Made in person — this one's a conversation, not a video"Catch them being good" comes from David Baird's Scoreboard Soccer — the whole feedback philosophy in four words. Aim for five positives for every correction — not fake, specific: "great job getting your head up before that pass." Praise the brave attempt at the hard thing; correct quietly, often privately. And don't confuse positive with quiet: watch a professional training session — the coaches are yelling constantly, and it's a stream of urgency and standards, not a list of what's going wrong. Loud and positive are not opposites. Yell the standard, not the failure.
Some drills in your feed need air traffic control to explain. If it takes you five minutes and two paragraphs to work out, a 4th grader has no chance. One field and a list of things to change beats a binder of choreography. Complexity photographs well; it doesn't coach well.
A kid in a line is a kid not learning. Almost everything can be taught inside a game with one rule changed — and when a brand-new skill genuinely needs reps, two players working a skill back and forth is time well spent too. The test is never the furniture; it's touches per minute for the roster that actually showed up.
When something is genuinely new — playing out of the back, how to restart — be explicit. Step by step, with the why attached. Being explicit isn't old-school; mindless barking is. Then fade: tell becomes ask becomes let-them-solve-it. Because the finished product isn't a kid who runs your script — it's a kid who makes good decisions at speed. The game has no timeouts and no play-calling. We're building decision-makers, not robots — and the most powerful question we own is "What did you see?" Train them to see the thing once, and it becomes apparent everywhere.
Don't hammer one thing and move on forever. After you teach something, loop it back in over the next three or four practices — a few minutes, and make them produce it rather than re-teaching it. The little struggle to re-find it is what makes it stick. That wobble isn't failure; it's the learning working.
Each gold dot is a few minutes of "show me again" at the next practice — not a re-teach. Every retrieval flattens the forgetting. (The science: Lemov's annotated forgetting curve →)
The sideline is not optional — it's coaching your kids every Saturday whether you like it or not. The only question is whether it's amplifying you or contradicting you. One line in a weekly email — "we're passing back to our keeper on purpose this week; cheer when it works" — flips it to your side, and protects the hardest things we teach from the Saturday groan.
Do the math: two 90-minute practices a week, two 10-week seasons — about 60 hours a year. Nobody builds a player in 60 hours. But time with the ball works like compound interest, and two extra 15-minute sessions a week is the cheapest "club upgrade" a family can give a kid. You can't assign that time — you can only make them love the game enough to choose it. Get them watching a real match every week. When a kid shows up in a replica jersey, it's working.
The kids already keep score — that job is covered. Yours is different: you're one layer of a Pathway that runs 4v4 to 7v7 to 9v9 to the full game, and the next coach is counting on what you build. You can't tell who "makes it" at eight, and you're not judged by Saturday. Teach the hard things, protect the love of the game, hand them up prepared. That's winning soccer.
Part 2
The whole hour climbs a ladder on a single field. Each step changes one thing. Tap the steps — and notice the field never changes. That is the lesson: you don't need a drill library, you need one field and a list of things to change.
Coaches play a small-sided game. No coaching — on purpose.
An exercise runs; the instructor says nothing. Then loud, positive urgency — and the room watches the tempo jump. Nobody was told they did anything wrong.
Flow · natural stoppage · a quiet word · the freeze — taught as a cost ladder. The freeze stops everything; spend it rarely.
Ropes for lines young brains can't imagine · big cones that stop corner-shaving · making the wide position a home, not exile · matching every activity to who actually showed up · warm-ups only where age requires them.
Take-home
Two physical artifacts — mocked up below — plus the vocabulary sheet and the video shelf behind every message.
Laminated, badge-sized — in their hand at 5:30 on a Tuesday.
From the games library · sample page
One page per game: setup in a sentence, variations, and what to change for the roster you actually have. Built from our tested games — and yours: contributors get their name on their game.
Curious what the other artifacts look like? Peek at the , the , or the .
Feasibility
This is an assembly project more than a construction project. It also sits on top of the USSF and United Soccer Coaches courses — which we recommend and point coaches to — covering what they can't: our kids, our Pathway, our vocabulary, and the craft of teaching.
Your turn
This is a draft, and the whole point of showing you is to make it better. Blunt is useful. Five questions, five minutes: