So I’ve got Nicky and Mikey back on defense, Pedro and Paulie are up front … we’re just about ready … hey! Andy! ANDY! ANNNNDDDDYYYY!!!!!!

(Names changed to protect the innocent and the kid who has just wandered into the woods.)

We had a discussion among a few coaches recently about quality of play. I raised the point that one difficulty we had was that some players weren’t particularly interested in being there. If you’ve ever coached, you know the type — picking at the grass, playing with the net, perhaps even going on what Crocodile Dundee would call a walkabout.

I got a bit of a smackdown in response. We should NEVER turn our backs on such players. Perhaps that player will be the next Steve Jobs.

OK. Fair enough, I suppose. Not really saying we should ignore such players. Just saying it’s a challenge.

And there’s a fundamental issue of fairness here. If you spend a whole practice session or game trying to coax a reluctant player into playing, you’re not coaching the rest of the team. At some levels, perhaps that’s OK. Kids who have soccer aptitude, speed or strength might not need a parent volunteer’s help to develop their skills at this stage. Our club offers additional training for serious players at a small cost, so they can always take advantage of that. But the dominant players deserve — and need — a bit of attention as well. Some of them need to dial it back a bit. Some need to pass the ball once in a while. Some need to quit picking on the kids who aren’t interested.

And frankly, I feel better equipped to deal with those kids. I can communicate with them. Most of them want to get better. If they misbehave, they’re in trouble with me and their parents. In three years or so of coaching, I can honestly say I’ve made a difference for several talented players, encouraging them to round out their skills and learn teamwork.

The disinterested kids are more difficult. Their parents might be able to get through, but more often than not, they’re hoping a new voice — that of a coach — will help coax them out of their shells.

It’s safe to say these challenges have stretched my creativity. I asked one player who was always smiling but never playing if he had a favorite superhero. He said Batman. I said, “OK, pretend you’re Batman. Gotham City needs your help! Your teammates are in danger!”

Nah. Didn’t work.

Being raised on old-school YMCA sports, the only model I have to follow is yelling. Then yelling louder. Modern-day child psychology frowns on belittling, so there’s not much left from the old school.

So what do you do? Seriously — I don’t know. Any ideas?

That’s not to say I’ve been totally unsuccessful. I’ve seen a couple of players progress with a bit of patience. I just managed to hold the door open long enough that they eventually wandered through. But I’d love to be able to do it more consistently.