Today is my wife’s birthday.
And I’ll be honest — it makes me want to write something real. Not a coaching framework. Not a concept from a book. Just a guy who coaches baseball telling you something he’s had to learn the hard way:
Most of us have outkicked our coverage. Way outkicked it. And we don’t say that nearly enough.
Here’s what the coaching life actually looks like from her side of the scoreboard.
While you’re at the field — late nights, early mornings, road trips, film sessions, recruiting calls — she’s home. Handling everything. Keeping life running. Managing the weight of a household, the emotional weight of a spouse whose mood she’s learned to read from the sound of his footsteps. She doesn’t get a dugout. She doesn’t have a coaching staff. She’s running the whole operation solo because she loves you and believes in what you’re building.
And then the offseason hits.
You’re exhausted. You’ve given everything to the program. You need rest — and you do; that’s real. But here’s what coaches miss: she’s been exhausted longer.
She hasn’t had an offseason. She’s been running her season and yours at the same time. The house didn’t take a break because you had a doubleheader. The responsibilities didn’t pause for a tough road loss. She just kept going.
And a lot of times, we walk into the offseason thinking about what we need to recover. When the better question is: what does she need to recover?
Ephesians 5:25 says, “Husbands, love your wives, as Christ loved the church and gave himself up for her.”
That’s not a suggestion for when it’s convenient. That’s not a “love her once the roster is set and the schedule is locked in” kind of verse. That’s the standard. Every season. Every week. Even on game days.
The Red Dirt Tax doesn’t just affect your coaching — it affects your marriage. When your identity is wrapped up in the scoreboard, your spouse pays a tax she never agreed to. She manages your wins and your losses on top of managing everything else. She adjusts the temperature of the whole house around your result.
That’s not what she signed up for. And it’s not what she deserves.
So here’s what I want to say on her birthday — and I want to say it to every coach reading this too:
The offseason isn’t just for film review, recruiting, and getting your strength back. It’s for showing up at home the way she’s been showing up for you all year.
Help carry what she’s been carrying alone. Take something off her plate without being asked. Plan something that’s for her — not a baseball trip, not a clinic, something that fills her up. Let the offseason be her season for once.
You outkicked your coverage. Own it. Honor it.
The program needs you to be a great coach. But the person you made a vow to needs you to be a great husband first.
Lead at home. It’s the most important job on your resume.
Happy birthday to mine. She makes all of this worth it.
Let’s get to work. — Coach O
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