The Deacon

By Deacon Gabriel Saucedo

The deacon’s ministry is most authentically lived not in efficiency but in intimacy, not in the multiplication of tasks but in the offering of presence. In the fast-paced world of modern athletics, where win-loss records have replaced teaching the game and potential college scholarships loom over high school athletes, the Catholic deacon-coach brings a countercultural element to sports: the ministry of presence. Rooted in the servanthood of Christ and the Acts of the Apostles, the ordained deacon is called to acts of charity, liturgical service, and proclaiming the Gospel. Combined with coaching high school boys, this ancient ministry finds its most profound expression in moments of active listening, unhurried conversation, and attentive presence that says to a young man: “You matter – not the perfectly executed play or championship trophies,” and “I am here.”

By offering the ministry of presence, the deacon-coach challenges administrators, parents, and fellow coaches about what it means to be a “winning” coach. The deacon-coach functions within a radically different paradigm than a culture obsessed with athletic success. This ministry is transformational. Whereas most coaches rush from drill to drill with eyes fixed on the season’s objectives, the deacon-coach recognizes the real work occurs in transitions – when a struggling player needs encouragement, when family troubles are revealed, when sitting in silence next to a benched athlete who feels like a failure.

The urgency of the deacon-coach’s role intensifies because the formation of young men in high school is at a critical juncture. Teenage boys are constructing their understanding of masculinity and strength while trying to figure out their place in the world. They are inundated with cultural messages equating manhood with dominance, individual achievement, and emotional indifference. The deacon-coach sees something different: that true strength is found in recognizing the strength of others, and service to others is the highest form of leadership. This cannot be taught through pre-game lectures or repetitious playbook practice; it must be embodied, witnessed, and experienced in the relationship built between athlete and deacon-coach.

The ministry of presence becomes transformative when the deacon-coach pauses to interact with the player who lost his starting position rather than moving on to more pressing matters. This presence is a homily preached more powerfully than any Sunday sermon. Recognizing the quiet boy sitting alone on the bus and starting an intentional conversation is living the Gospel with attention. Canceling evening plans to attend a player’s family funeral demonstrates what it means to lay down one’s life for another. There is no way to plan or scale this act of presence.

Herein lies the challenge the deacon-coach poses to convention: athletic success is typically measured in wins, college-bound players, and championships. But for the deacon-coach, forming the human heart is foundational to the game, not producing winning records. The greatest seasonal success is not an undefeated season but when a team struggling on the scoreboard learns through adversity to support each other. The moment when a star player helps a struggling teammate becomes more powerful than perfectly executing a complex play, validating that relationships trump résumés.

The relationships the deacon-coach nurtures extend beyond athletic performance. When I noticed Mark’s declining performance, rather than benching him, I discovered his parents were divorcing and his world was crumbling. This insight came not through a pep talk but through presence and patient listening. I shared my own struggles and committed to regularly follow up with him. The time this takes is not a concern – it is part of the sacramental economy taught by the Church. Through my actions, the real ministry work occurred. This patient attention gave Mark a sense of value for being himself, perhaps the first time he felt truly seen.

This ministry extends to the entire team. Under the deacon-coach, team unity is about creating a culture that guides boys to notice one another and be present for each other’s struggles and celebrations. Teaching young players to see beyond themselves is harder than teaching them to execute plays. Encouraging stronger players to stay after practice to help those who have fallen behind builds this team culture. Choosing captains for their capacity to serve and encourage others sends a clear message that leadership is about presence and attentiveness.

The team that celebrates their championship by volunteering at a food bank has learned their strength and success is meant to be given away in service to those often overlooked. Teaching servanthood requires time, repetition, and patience. Humility cannot be taught only once; it must be repeated often, and the deacon-coach must be willing to undertake this challenge, resisting the pressure to win at all costs to ensure proper character formation. This work cannot be rushed – it mirrors the ministry of Jesus, who took three years to form the disciples.

The sacred spaces found within church walls are now found in fields and courts. For the deacon-coach, this opens him to the ministry of presence. Like Jesus washing his disciples’ feet – proving no task was beneath Him – no player is unworthy of the deacon-coach’s attention. All players receive the same care, from star to bench-warmer. The star player is not valued more than one with no prospects of playing at the next level. This is radical equality.

Practically speaking, the ministry of presence obligates the deacon-coach to arrive early and stay late, creating opportunities for informal conversation with the players he ministers to. Learning about their families, struggles, and dreams develops relationships that allow him to personalize prayers for them, which he also shares with them.

The fruits of this approach will not necessarily show up on scoreboards but are manifested in young men learning what it means to serve. Pedro, who only cared about personal stats, grew into a true man as he began encouraging his teammates. Pablo’s anger issues causing team imbalances were channeled through prayer and reflection. Judas, who appeared headed down the wrong path, was redirected through my presence because I never gave up on him. These were slow, almost invisible transformations made possible through countless moments of presence.

For the deacon-coach, every athletic experience – practices, games, victories, defeats – is an opportunity to heed the call to servanthood. In those moments of silence, through attentive listening, patient explanation, and decisions to prioritize relationship over results, young men encounter something rare. This intentional presence helps players experience what it means to be truly loved just for being themselves, which gets to the heart of diaconal ministry in athletics.

The deacon-coach understands his ordination doesn’t call him to do more but to be more present to everyone he serves – from the parish, to those in the peripheries, to the teenage boys entrusted to his care. The seeds of servant leadership are planted when the deacon-coach chooses intimacy over efficiency and presence over productivity. His patient, attentive presence will bear fruit long after the final whistle blows, preparing young men not just to win games but to become men for others. Their formation will carry them into their futures for their families and communities. The young man encounters selfless love in their coach who takes the time to see them, know them, and serve them through the gift of presence. TD