And, much like those offensive and defensive systems, our program’s culture cannot always be as complex at the sub-varsity level, especially when these kids are at an age where so much change is already happening to them. Thinking about this, I took some time to really think about this idea from a Culture standpoint, and I came up a philosophy that, personally, I think all JV teams could rally around: R.I.S.E.
In our program, everything starts with the varsity philosophy: All In.
“All In” isn’t just a slogan. It’s a standard. It’s built on respect, discipline, effort, and selflessness. It’s what our varsity staff expects from every player who walks onto that field. It’s the end goal.
But here’s the reality: most JV kids aren’t ready to be “All In” yet.
Not because they don’t care. Not because they’re bad kids. But because they’re still learning what it means to be part of something bigger than themselves.
So this offseason, I started thinking—how do we take something as powerful as “All In” and make it digestible for younger players? How do we teach the same values, but in a way that sticks?
We simplify.
We build a system.
And that’s how we got R.I.S.E.:
Respect. Intensity. Sacrifice. Effort.
Because before you can be All In, you have to R.I.S.E.
Let’s start here, because everything starts here.
Every single kid who comes out for our team already has my respect.
Read that again.
They have it the moment they sign up. The moment they put on the cleats. The moment they choose to be part of something that’s bigger than just themselves. That matters.
But here’s the flip side—and I’m very clear about this with our guys: respect is given freely, but it can be lost quickly. Respect isn’t something you say. It’s something you show. You show it in how you talk to your teammates. You show it in how you respond to coaching. You show it in how you act in the classroom, in the hallways, in the community.
Because whether they realize it or not, these kids are always representing something. Their team. Their school. Their families.
So what does good respect look like?
It looks like picking a teammate up after a bad play instead of tearing him down. It looks like making eye contact when a coach is talking. It looks like saying “yes, sir” or “yes, ma’am”—not because you have to, but because you understand what it represents. It looks like doing the right thing when nobody’s watching.
And as coaches, we don’t just demand respect—we model it. We hold kids accountable, but we do it the right way. We build relationships. We show them that respect goes both ways.
Because if we want them to act like men and women, we have to treat them like young men and women.
Respect isn’t just a piece of the puzzle—it’s the foundation the whole thing sits on.
Now we turn it up.
Intensity is one of those words that gets thrown around a lot in football. People hear it and think it just means yelling, hitting harder, or getting fired up on game day.
That’s part of it—but it’s not the whole picture.
Intensity is a mindset. It’s how you approach everything you do.
It’s the difference between going through the motions and attacking a drill like it matters. It’s the difference between showing up because your friends are there and showing up because you’re committed to getting better. It’s the difference between being on the team and being about the team.
And that’s a big one for JV kids.
Because let’s be honest—at this level, a lot of them are here because their buddies are here. And that’s fine… at first.
But if you’re going to be part of this program, it has to become more than that.
Intensity means caring. It means locking in during film. It means sprinting to every rep. It means taking pride in the little things—your stance, your alignment, your assignment.
And again, this is where coaching comes in.
We don’t just tell them to be intense—we create an environment that demands it. We set the tempo at practice.
We celebrate effort.
We correct laziness immediately.
We make energy contagious.
Because intensity isn’t something you flip on under the lights. It’s something you build every single day.
This is the one that separates people, because everybody likes the idea of football, until it starts costing them something.
Football is hard. It’s physical. It’s demanding. It’s uncomfortable.
And no—we don’t want kids getting hurt. That’s never the goal. But they do need to get comfortable being uncomfortable.
They need to understand that growth lives on the other side of that discomfort.
But sacrifice goes beyond just the physical. It’s time. It’s energy. It’s choices.
During the season—and even in the offseason—football requires them to give something up. Maybe it’s hanging out with friends on a weeknight. Maybe it’s skipping a party. Maybe it’s putting the video games down and getting in the weight room.
And that’s where we introduce one of the most important ideas in our program:
Family. Faith. School. Football.
Everything we do fits into that hierarchy. And after those four things?
Nothing else matters. Not social media. Not popularity. Not convenience.
That can be a tough concept for young kids to grasp. So we don’t just say it—we reinforce it constantly. We talk about it. We model it. We praise it when we see it.
Because sacrifice isn’t about losing something—it’s about choosing something better.
If Respect is the foundation, Effort is the engine, and at the JV level, this is the one we care about most.
I can live with mistakes. I can live with missed assignments. I can live with a kid getting beat because he’s still learning.
What I can’t live with is a lack of effort. Because effort is a choice. It doesn’t require talent. It doesn’t require experience. It doesn’t require size, speed, or strength.
It just requires buy-in.
I will never get on a kid for messing something up if he’s going 100 miles an hour trying to do it right. But if you’re loafing? If you’re taking a play off? If you’re giving me anything less than your best?
That’s where we have a problem.
Effort is sprinting to the ball every play. It’s finishing through the whistle. It’s doing one more rep when you’re tired. It’s refusing to take shortcuts.
And just like everything else—we coach it.
We demand it in drills.
We highlight it on film.
We celebrate it as much as big plays.
That’s why the biggest award we give all week is our Hard Hat. It celebrates the hardest working player all week. NOT THE BEST, BUT THE HARDEST WORKER. The player that does all those things I wrote about earlier. Who gives effort in everything they do. Who inspires others around them to give more.
Because effort is contagious. And when you get a group of kids all buying into that idea?
That’s when things start to change.
At the end of the day, JV football isn’t about creating something separate from the varsity program—it’s about supporting it.
But supporting it doesn’t mean copying it word for word.
It means identifying what your kids need right now to eventually become what the varsity program needs later.
Just like building an offensive or defensive system, you start with the essentials. You strip it down. You focus on the fundamentals. You rep it until it becomes second nature.
For us, that’s R.I.S.E.
It’s our way of taking a big, powerful philosophy like “All In” and breaking it into teachable, livable pieces for younger players. Because if they can learn to respect the game, bring intensity every day, embrace sacrifice, and give relentless effort, then one day, they’ll be ready.
Ready to be All In.
Ready for Friday nights.
Ready for everything that comes with it.
We keep teaching.
We keep repping.
We keep building.
Because that’s the job.
Teach it. Rep it. Build it. That’s the JV Way.
