From the Founder, Brian Mazza 8/24
The Evidence Bank Theory
Tonight we kick off our first on-field training session with my U9/U10 boys at FC Westchester.
Some would say, “They’re just kids.”
I’ve never subscribed to that theory.
Yes, they’re young. But they’re also athletes who love football. And when you create a controlled, positive environment, they want to be challenged. They want to be pushed. They want to see what they’re capable of.
That’s the beauty of coaching.
It’s understanding your players. It’s knowing when to push and when to put your arm around them. It’s earning the trust of the club and the parents. And as a parent of two players myself, I understand both sides of that responsibility.
Our job coaching young boys isn’t just to create better footballers.
It’s to help them flourish in life, on and off the field.
I love that responsibility more than any job I’ve ever had.
And that’s why my philosophy continues to be:
High Accountability. High Love.
We started our first morning session of the season with something that had almost nothing to do with a football:
The Beep Test.
For anyone unfamiliar, the Beep Test is a progressive running test. Players run back and forth between two lines 20 meters apart, reaching the line before each beep. As the levels increase, the time between the beeps gets shorter. The test gets progressively faster until you can no longer maintain the required pace.
For young players, I don’t look at the levels as some definitive judgment of who’s on the A or the B, but I love to see who has been active, training, and who can push against adversity.
But they are an incredible benchmark.
Getting through Level 7 requires a strong aerobic base and the ability to repeatedly run under increasing fatigue. Level 8 takes another step. Reaching Level 10 at this age is an exceptional effort.
Our group had:
8 of 20 players get past Level 7.
5 players get past Level 8.
1 player reach Level 10.
Great numbers.
But here’s the interesting part.
The fitness results weren’t the most important thing we measured.
I watched kids cheering for their teammates.
I watched kids refuse to quit when they were uncomfortable.
I watched players see firsthand which teammates had been training all summer.
They didn’t need a coach to tell them.
The work showed.
And those players deposited something into what I call their Evidence Bank.
Every difficult thing you complete creates a receipt.
Every time you keep going when you want to stop.
Every time you train when nobody is watching.
Every time you prepare for something weeks before anyone else thinks about it.
Every time you prove to yourself, I can do hard things.
You make another deposit.
Then one day you’re standing in a difficult moment and instead of hoping you’re confident, you have evidence.
That’s where real confidence comes from.
Not someone telling you you’re great.
Not a trophy.
Not an Instagram post.
Not your parents telling you that you’re the best player on the field.
Evidence.
I’ve been here before.
I’ve done hard things before.
I’ve prepared for this.
I know I can keep going.
That’s what Sunday morning accomplished.
Twenty young boys walked onto a field for a fitness test.
They walked off having learned something about themselves and something about the boys standing next to them.
That’s culture.
And when those little deposits happen over and over again throughout a season, something powerful starts happening.
You aren’t just developing football players.
You’re developing young men who believe in themselves because they’ve earned the right to.
That is how confidence is built.
That is how trust is built.
And eventually, that’s how championship cultures are built.
High Accountability. High Love.
Let’s get to work.
