Obviously it's hard to lose a coach; that's not fun for anybody

The quarterback Derek Carr, who has borne both triumph and trial upon the field of battle, once said: “Obviously it’s hard to lose a coach; that’s not fun for anybody because you care about him and you have a relationship with him. But as players, we just have to keep moving on.” These words, though spoken in the context of sport, carry the weight of timeless truth. For life itself is filled with leaders who guide us, voices who inspire us, and hands that steady us — yet sooner or later, we must learn to go forward even when they are taken from us.

To lose a coach is not merely to lose instruction, but to lose a bond of trust. A coach is more than a strategist; he is a mentor, a father in the arena, a shepherd to his flock. When such a figure departs, whether by choice or by force, the hearts of the players feel the wound. Carr admits this pain openly: “That’s not fun for anybody.” Yet in his words we hear also the call to resilience — for though grief is real, the game does not pause, and the journey does not end.

The heart of Carr’s teaching lies in the command to keep moving on. Here we find the eternal law of endurance. To stand still in mourning, to cling forever to what has been lost, is to invite defeat. But to honor the past by continuing forward is to transform sorrow into strength. The warrior does not abandon the fight because his general has fallen; instead, he rallies his courage, bearing forward the lessons already given.

History gives us a shining example in the tale of Alexander the Great and his men after the death of his teacher, Aristotle, and later, his beloved companion Hephaestion. Both losses wounded Alexander deeply, yet he pressed forward with his campaigns, driven by the vision instilled in him. His grief did not halt his progress; instead, it deepened his resolve to leave a mark upon the world. Just as Carr reminds us, leadership may be lost, but the mission must endure.

Carr’s words also speak to the nature of responsibility. Players cannot control the tides of leadership; they cannot dictate who leads them from the sidelines. But they can control their response. They can choose bitterness, despair, or stagnation — or they can choose to rise above, to unite, to fight on. This is the mark of maturity: to face what one cannot change with grace, and to focus instead on what one can still achieve.

The lesson, then, is profound: in life, you will lose leaders, mentors, loved ones. Their absence will leave scars. Yet your journey must continue. Do not allow loss to paralyze you. Instead, let it sharpen your gratitude for the lessons they imparted, and let it kindle your resolve to move forward carrying their influence within you. For in doing so, you do not betray them — you honor them.

Practical wisdom follows: when you lose someone who guided you, pause and grieve, but then act. Write down the lessons they taught you, and live them daily. Unite with those who remain beside you, for shared loss can forge stronger bonds. And above all, refuse to stand still in despair. Each step forward is a tribute to those who walked before you.

So remember, O listener, the wisdom of Derek Carr: “It’s hard to lose a coach… but as players, we have to keep moving on.” Carry this into your own life. When loss comes — as it surely will — let not your spirit be crushed. Keep moving on, and in your movement, carry forward the flame of those who once lit the path for you. For in this way, their light never truly dies, but burns on in your endurance.