Offside and Overstimulated

 Being a coach is never just about rugby. Yes, you run training sessions, pick teams, and shout “LINE SPEED!” until you’re hoarse - but behind the scenes? There’s a mental to-do list longer than a lineout gone wrong. And when you’ve already got a brain that’s doing laps of its own thanks to ADHD (or just, you know, life), that mental load can feel like carrying a full kit bag up three flights of stairs: possible, but sweaty and undignified. The “Coach Brain” To-Do List Here are just a few of the things bouncing around my head on any given day: • Who’s injured? Who’s ghosting training? Who’s secretly playing netball on the side? • Did I submit the team sheet? (No.) • Did I pack the cones? (Also no.) • How do I make training fun, but also effective, but also not chaos? • Remember to check in with the player who looked quiet last week. • Oh, and don’t forget the fundraiser. Or the kit order. Or the fact you have an actual life outside rugby (allegedly). It’s li...

The new rugby season is looming, and I’m armed with a notebook, a dozen colour-coded pens, and the unwavering belief that this year I’ll finally get organised. (Spoiler: I won’t.)  Being a rugby coach with ADHD means that “season planning” is a unique cocktail of ambition, chaos, and creativity. And some stress for equal measure.  I start with the best intentions. I make spreadsheets. I schedule training themes. I map out fixture lists. I even attempt various calendars. But soon enough the wheels inevitably wobble. I forget to email the pitch coordinator, lose track of which session we’re on, and have to dig muddy balls and bins out of my car boot because I forgot to wash them- again. Yet somehow, it works. ADHD has a way of turning planning into a contact sport. My brain thrives on urgency, so those last-minute changes? I excel at them. (Get it, a spreadsheet pun!) A fixture gets cancelled? No problem. We’re running ann extra training session or an social instead. Half ...