Behind the Bench: What Coaches Are Really Thinking During a 9–1 Blowout
Imagined internal monologues from coaches trying to keep it together (and not bench themselves)
There’s something uniquely humbling about standing behind a youth hockey bench when your team is getting absolutely shelled. I was a youth hockey coach for 3 seasons and boy did this happen often. You start with optimism, shift to negotiation, dip into self-reflection (am I really doing this right?), and land somewhere between dread and wondering if there’s still hot coffee left in the snack bar.
And that’s just the first period. God help us all…..
So, in the spirit of giving parents a peek behind the plexiglass, here’s what a lot of coaches are really thinking during those 7–1 games—both wins and losses. (Spoiler: It’s not all genius strategies and stoic leadership. Sometimes it’s, “Did I lock the truck before we came in?”)
WHEN YOU’RE LOSING 9–1…
1. “Okay. Let’s just get through this without tears. Mine included.”
You start off hopeful—maybe this is just a slow start. Then it’s 3–0. You blink, and it’s 5–0. By 6–0, you’re doing deep breathing exercises while tying skate laces, consoling tears and checking stick tape.
2. “I should’ve called that time-out after goal #3. Or #2. Or probably in the warmup.”
Regret is a big part of the blowout experience. You second-guess everything: the lines, the drills you ran last Tuesday, your decision to become a coach in the first place. You question how the parents will react to the amount of time you give their kids on the ice. Time outs are important for your sanity and the team.
3. “Let’s focus on the little wins. Hey! We completed a pass! Kind of.”
When the scoreboard turns evil, you start rooting for moral victories. A backcheck. A good breakout. A kid who remembered to change lines before their lungs gave out. Getting it through the grey zone without a turnover.
4. “That ref has it out for me. He remembers me from 1998, I know it.”
Sure, it’s irrational and totally unnecessary. But in the heat of a blowout, everyone’s looking for answers—and blaming the officials is tradition. It’s therapeutic and fantastic.
5. “I should’ve benched Jonny after he turned over the puck for the 4th time in 7 minutes... but he looked so happy to be out there.”
You start making trade-offs. Do you correct every mistake? Or just let the kids skate and pray they learn by osmosis?
6. “This goalie’s going to need therapy—and a non-alcoholic strawberry daquiri.”
Nothing tugs at your heart like a goalie looking up at you after the 7th goal like, “Please… make it stop.” You start wondering if it’s legal to pull a U9 goalie for emotional reasons. You almost wish they could have an emotional support animal backing them up out there in net.
7. “I wonder what the parents are thinking. No—never mind. I don’t want to know.”
You can feel the stares from the bleachers. You can hear the yells about how to do your job. You try to look confident, like you totally planned to double-shift the kid who just got a nosebleed from getting blasted for looking down while skating.
8. “What would Herb Brooks do? Wait—don’t yell again.”
You channel great coaches of the past. Then realize you’re quoting Miracle to yourself while kids are doing snow angels in the crease after their buddy saved a goal finally.
9. “We’re going to skate so many laps on Tuesday.”
Revenge conditioning. It’s how coaches cope. Nothing like wanting to put a trash can at center ice and bag skate them till the barf. So what they are 7…. Right?
10. “Wait—we scored?! Everyone act natural.”
The lone goal. You cheer like it’s a Stanley Cup overtime winner and pretend it’s not a consolation prize. But let’s be real, it absolutely is, and that’s okay.
WHEN YOU’RE WINNING 9–1…
1. “Please don’t let us be those coaches.”
You know the type. Arms crossed, smirking, throwing out line changes like a hunter stalking prey. You overcompensate by being super respectful and acting like every goal is just a happy accident.
2. “Can we switch to defense-only mode without making it obvious?”
You start giving motivational speeches like, “Let’s practice D zone breakouts and 5 passes before we shoot! Limit turnovers in the grey zone! Win the small battles!” Translation: Stop scoring, please.
3. “If we celebrate too hard, karma will visit us next weekend.”
Youth hockey karma is swift. One week you’re up 9–1, the next your goalie is crying and you’re Googling “how to soothe angry parents without booze.”
4. “Their coach just gave me the death glare. I deserve that.”
Even if you’re classy, the losing bench looks at you like you personally requested this outcome. You start mouthing “Sorry!” after every face-off.
5. “Should I put our goalie on forward? No… yes… no.”
In blowouts, your brain goes weird places. You start wondering if you can run a 1–3–1 just to try it. Maybe pull your goalie for the experience? Go empty net for the last 8 minutes?
6. “Let’s give the bottom line some reps. And maybe the 5th line that doesn’t exist.”
It’s a great opportunity to let the lesser-used players shine—and sometimes you discover your grinder kid actually has a shot that rivals Ovi’s.
7. “Do I let the kids goof off a little or keep it serious?”
A blowout win can make a team very cocky. You’re walking a fine line between having fun and nurturing the next generation of penalty box regulars.
8. “Please don’t celly like it’s the gold medal game… again.”
The 7th goal comes and your center makes like a rowboat in front of the other team’s parents like he just ended the Cold War. You try to rein it in without crushing his joy. It's a balance.
THE UNIVERSAL TRUTH: IT’S ALL A TEACHING MOMENT
Whether you’re on the winning or losing end of a 7–1 game, one thing remains true: the real work happens in how you respond.
After the buzzer, you huddle your team up, look into those sweaty, helmet-haired faces, and try to deliver something meaningful like:
“We win with honor.”
“We lose with our heads up.”
“We skate hard till the last whistle no matter the score.”
Blowouts are part of hockey. They hurt. Or they feel amazing. But they always teach. Coaches carry the weight of those lessons in the quiet moments behind the bench and in the locker room —right between tying skates, calling lines, taping sticks and wondering if the dogs ate that morning.
Final Thought
To every coach out there doing your best in the face of lopsided scoreboards: We see you. You’re balancing development, sportsmanship, and snack breaks with the grace of a caffeinated Zamboni.
And to every parent peeking over from the bleachers, wondering what’s going through the coach’s mind, show them some grace. It’s not all Xs and Os. Sometimes it’s, “Please don’t let Tommy try to toe drag at the blue line again.”
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