My first NSCAA Convention as a young adult was 1997.  Prior to that, I attended as a young player on the “Coerver Drill Team,” where we would give demos in the convention hall.  The convention hall room would be packed, not an open seat or place to stand and we demonstrated drills while coaches rigorously wrote down notes.

In 1997, I was playing for the Men’s Division I program at Xavier University, I was getting into coaching at summer camps and hungry for anything that could help me teach the game better—sessions, contacts, methods, language, and the small details that separate “running practice” from coaching development. Back then, the convention wasn’t just a date on the calendar. It felt like the center of gravity for American soccer coaching.

But to really tell the story of that era—of why the convention mattered so much—you have to look back and reflect.  This is my reflection.

1997: “A New Era” and the Pre-YouTube Explosion of Player Development

In 1997, Coerver Coaching released a video series called “A New Era.” It was a groundbreaking set of content in VHS format, and I can still picture it clearly: boxes of tapes, coaches grabbing them, word spreading fast. We sold them out of boxes—literally—and it felt like everyone wanted them. The feedback was immediate and, honestly, awesome.

What made “A New Era” different wasn’t just the production or the novelty of video—it was the structure based of Coerver Coaching’s “Pyramid of Player Development,” devised by Charlie Cooke and Alfred Galustian, the co-founders of Coerver. It was, in many ways, the first widely available, organized framework for 1v1 moves and individual instruction that coaches could actually take to a field and teach that same day. Not theory. Not vague inspiration. Real, step-by-step player development.

“Many coaches say this series changed the way youth players were taught skills worldwide”

When the Convention Was the Pilgrimage

That’s the context people forget about the late 90s: coaching education wasn’t instantly accessible. There wasn’t a feed full of clips, and there wasn’t a masterclass dropping every week. If you wanted the best ideas, you had to go get them.

The NSCAA Convention was where the coaching community met itself. You didn’t just attend—you arrived. The hotel lobby was a classroom. The trade show floor was a marketplace of ideas. And the late-night conversations—those were often the most valuable sessions of all.

And here’s what’s important: the convention didn’t just spread tactics. It spread methods. It spread training culture.

If you were a coach who had seen “A New Era,” you’d walk into that convention already thinking differently:

• How do I teach 1v1 better?
• How do I train skill under pressure?
• How do I build players, not just systems?

The convention became the amplifier.

The Peak: Early 2000s and a Shared Language of Coaching

If I had to point to the peak years—the stretch where the convention felt like it was driving the sport—it was the early 2000s.

Youth soccer participation was booming. College soccer still carried huge influence. The coaching community was expanding, and you could feel a real shift: coaches wanted to be more than organizers. They wanted to be developers.

And once enough coaches started talking about the same ideas—first touch, change of speed, disguise, 1v1 courage, confidence under pressure—you could feel a common language forming. Not everyone agreed on everything, but the baseline expectations rose.

That was the era where the convention felt like it was shaping the direction of the American coach.

The First Crack: When the World Got Smaller (and Faster)

Then the world changed—steadily, not suddenly.

The convention’s power had always been built on a form of scarcity:

• scarce access to top coaches
• scarce access to new methodology
• scarce access to networking outside your region

But technology erased scarcity.

As coaching content moved online, and as clubs and federations built their own education pipelines, the convention stopped being the only place where learning happened. Coaches didn’t need to fly across the country to access ideas—they needed to filter the flood of ideas already hitting their phones daily.

The convention didn’t necessarily get worse. It just stopped being the gate.

COVID Was the Loudest Moment in a Quiet Trend

COVID was the loudest moment in a trend that had already started: coaching education becoming distributed, not centralized.

After that, the convention had to compete on something else—something you can’t download.

And that “something” is still powerful.

So Did the Convention Actually “Fall”?

Here’s the honest answer:

The convention didn’t die. Its dominance did.

In 1998, if you skipped the convention, you missed the conversation. Now, the conversation never stops.

But what the convention can still do—when it’s at its best—is put you in the same building as the people who shape your coaching world. And that matters. Always has.

What the Convention Is Now (When It’s at Its Best)

Today, the convention is strongest when you treat it less like a classroom and more like a relationship-and-direction summit:

• reconnect with mentors, peers, and future collaborators
• learn what clubs and organizations are actually prioritizing
• see what the industry is building (tools, tech, methods, staffing models)
• have the conversations that turn into your next opportunity

And yes—still catch sessions that give you something you’ll use Monday morning.

My Advice to Younger Coaches

If you’re a young coach today, the convention can still be a turning point—if you go with purpose:

1. Decide your “why” before you arrive. Learning? Networking? Jobs? Growth? Don’t try to do everything.
2. Target people, not just sessions. The hallway is still undefeated.
3. Take notes like it’s 1998. Not because content is rare—but because your attention is.
4. Follow up within 72 hours. The convention isn’t the event; it’s what you build after it.

The Real Legacy of NSCAA (and Why 1997 Still Matters)

When I look back nearly 30 years to that convention, I don’t just remember sessions.

I remember a time when American coaches were building something together—piece by piece—year by year—handshake by handshake.

And I remember 1997, when “A New Era” showed coaches a new path—before streaming, before social media, before “content” became a daily word. Just a box of VHS tapes and a simple promise:

Teach the individual. Teach confidence. Teach 1v1. Build players.

That was the rise.

And if there’s been a “fall,” it’s only this: the convention no longer owns the center of the coaching universe.

But it can still be the place where your next chapter begins—if you show up ready to listen, ready to connect, and ready to bring something back to your players.