Coaching Is an Art Form: A Tribute to Coach DeLonce

There’s a quiet truth about coaching that people don’t talk about enough: the best coaches are artists. They study, they practice, they experiment, they fail, they try again—and through the process, their craft deepens.

I learned this lesson years ago from a Philadelphia watercolorist named Howard Watson, a legendary artist who taught generations how to see the world differently. I was lucky enough to take watercolor classes with him at the Woodmere Art Museum alongside my friend KEELIN. Every session ended the same way: a simple show-and-tell.

Watson’s question was never “What’s wrong with this painting?”

It was always: “What do you like about it?”

What do you like? What do others like? What’s working?

Week after week, he would say, in his unmistakable voice,

“I like this… I hope you like this.”

And then he’d offer the line that has stayed with me for decades:

“You know how you get better at painting? You paint.”

Simple. True. And universal.

Coach DeLonce: The Artist on the Court

Coach DeLonce is cut from that same cloth.

He coaches like an artist paints—showing up, practicing his craft, refining details, finding beauty in small improvements, and getting better every single week.

And on top of that, he looks like he could still play. More than once, someone has asked me if we had Brian Dawkins—the legendary former Eagles safety—coaching with us because DeLonce resembles him.

But behind that athletic frame is a different kind of toughness: DeLonce is a lifelong military man who spent 26 years in the U.S. Army.

His voice can come off as gruff at first—direct, no nonsense, steady. But once you listen closely, you realize it’s not the tone that matters.

It’s the care behind it.

It’s the intention.

It’s the investment in every player he coaches.

“You Made Me a Better Coach”

What touched me most this season came not during a timeout, or a drill, or even a win—but in his words to the players after their final tournament. After a successful run with a special group of sixth-grade girls, he told them something most coaches never say out loud:

“You made me a better coach.”

That’s art.

That’s humility.

That’s what it looks like to keep painting.

He went on to tell each player how she improved—one positive way she grew, one way her game developed. It echoed the same spirit Howard Watson taught us: look for what’s good, name it, build on it, and keep creating.

Thank You, Coach DeLonce

For your craft.

For your growth.

For your service.

For the care behind the voice.

For believing in every kid you coach.

Howard Watson taught us that the only way to get better at painting is to paint.

Coach DeLonce proves every week that the only way to get better at coaching… is to coach.

Thank you, DeLonce.