Old habits
I was watching a video from NK today on YouTube talking about finding more speed through matching catch and release angles.
It's a solid video, and I'd love to own the technology that they use rather than the catch and finish angle formulas that are outlined in the rigging books. They work, but the call of technology making your life a bit easier is difficult to resist.
Anyhow, the video got me thinking about quirks. What quirks do I have as a coach? I started thinking about my mannerisms at practice, or at a regatta, or in general. I thought about the impressions people have done of me for skits. I don't know that I have interesting quirks, but I came up with a short list.
Visor askew: If you see pictures of me wearing a visor, you'll notice that it's always adjusted slightly off center, and always slightly to the right. Why? This goes back to when I coxed. I used to adjust my visor to keep the sun from shining in my eyes. Why the right? I believe it had to do with the river traffic pattern, and how the sun would hit me in the eyes.
Arms crossed: I don't know where this started, or why, but if I'm standing, my arms are crossed.
Baby carrots: I love baby carrots, and I eat an embarrassing number of them at regattas. You can tell how tense the race is, or how important a race is by how quickly I'm devouring them.
Go away: One of the things that drives me crazy about rowing is the access. I don't mind talking to people at regattas, or even when there are races going on. But when it's time for my boat to race, I disappear. This goes back to my first year of coaching at Pacific. For two days I had this parent who found me on the shoreline, and would badger me about the boats, the race unfolding, how I thought the boat would do, what changes I would have made. I can't stand people talking to me during the race, and will often find a place to watch the race far removed from anyone on our team, athletes, coaches, and parents.
I'm not listening: The other thing I do is tune out the regatta announcers who are calling the race. It's hard to do, but I'll usually plug a set of headphones in, and play music. I've been to too many regattas where the officials are calling the wrong race, or the wrong lane assignments, or skipping a boat in the heat of the moment. After living and dying by these calls for a couple of years, I've taken to tuning them out.
No megaphones: I hate coaching using megaphones. For whatever reason I'd rather yell, and risk the embarrassment of a voice crack over using them. I'll use them to talk to coaches from far away, but for the most part, the megaphone sits in the launch.
No touchie: I don't like people touching the racing shell once it has been set up. Don't fiddle with it, don't make adjustments to it, and if you're not racing in it, don't go near it. I believe that comes from me spending time tuning up the boats prior to regattas, and from my habit of carrying around a sheet of paper with all the numbers per crew, and per boat. I only want the athletes who are racing in the shell to work on the boat - got that from my time at Willamette - and once it's set, only I can mess with it. If something goes wrong, then I want the responsibility to fall on my shoulders alone.
Cheering: I like cheers. I think they're fun, and some of the ones I've heard are extremely creative. I personally think it's very cool to watch teams do the fight song, or a fight song when launching. That being said, I do not cheer. I don't scream and yell when the boat is coming down the course, I don't cheer the boat off. Cheering is for the athletes. I give the boat a pat on the shoulder, or a handshake or a high five, but the cheering stays with the athletes.
I'll see you on the top: I don't do this as much, but I used to say this religiously to the boats when they launched.
Red Sox visor: I bought the visor in 2004, just before the Red Sox went on a tear and won their first World Series in 86 years. Since then it's become my good luck visor. It's ratty, old, falling apart, but it's at every single regatta I go to.
Racing laces: I do this each spring. I buy a set of interesting laces for the tennis shoes. At the DIII level the colors didn't matter, but at OSU, I went orange. They don't always make appearances at the regatta site itself as conditions in the PNW can dictate more suitable footwear, but I always have them ready to go for when the day is finished.
No coffee: I drink coffee, but it's more of a social thing. I don't drink coffee at regattas. It's not a caffeine thing because I'll usually take a tea if someone asks, but I simply don't drink coffee. I think it's because I'm already jacked to be there, and the addition of caffeine into my system might have me bouncing off the walls.
Those are the quirks I can think of off the top of my head. I'm sure there are plenty of others, and I know a few friends who've been to multiple regattas who could fill the list more than this.
It's a solid video, and I'd love to own the technology that they use rather than the catch and finish angle formulas that are outlined in the rigging books. They work, but the call of technology making your life a bit easier is difficult to resist.
Anyhow, the video got me thinking about quirks. What quirks do I have as a coach? I started thinking about my mannerisms at practice, or at a regatta, or in general. I thought about the impressions people have done of me for skits. I don't know that I have interesting quirks, but I came up with a short list.
Visor askew: If you see pictures of me wearing a visor, you'll notice that it's always adjusted slightly off center, and always slightly to the right. Why? This goes back to when I coxed. I used to adjust my visor to keep the sun from shining in my eyes. Why the right? I believe it had to do with the river traffic pattern, and how the sun would hit me in the eyes.
Arms crossed: I don't know where this started, or why, but if I'm standing, my arms are crossed.
Baby carrots: I love baby carrots, and I eat an embarrassing number of them at regattas. You can tell how tense the race is, or how important a race is by how quickly I'm devouring them.
Go away: One of the things that drives me crazy about rowing is the access. I don't mind talking to people at regattas, or even when there are races going on. But when it's time for my boat to race, I disappear. This goes back to my first year of coaching at Pacific. For two days I had this parent who found me on the shoreline, and would badger me about the boats, the race unfolding, how I thought the boat would do, what changes I would have made. I can't stand people talking to me during the race, and will often find a place to watch the race far removed from anyone on our team, athletes, coaches, and parents.
I'm not listening: The other thing I do is tune out the regatta announcers who are calling the race. It's hard to do, but I'll usually plug a set of headphones in, and play music. I've been to too many regattas where the officials are calling the wrong race, or the wrong lane assignments, or skipping a boat in the heat of the moment. After living and dying by these calls for a couple of years, I've taken to tuning them out.
No megaphones: I hate coaching using megaphones. For whatever reason I'd rather yell, and risk the embarrassment of a voice crack over using them. I'll use them to talk to coaches from far away, but for the most part, the megaphone sits in the launch.
No touchie: I don't like people touching the racing shell once it has been set up. Don't fiddle with it, don't make adjustments to it, and if you're not racing in it, don't go near it. I believe that comes from me spending time tuning up the boats prior to regattas, and from my habit of carrying around a sheet of paper with all the numbers per crew, and per boat. I only want the athletes who are racing in the shell to work on the boat - got that from my time at Willamette - and once it's set, only I can mess with it. If something goes wrong, then I want the responsibility to fall on my shoulders alone.
Cheering: I like cheers. I think they're fun, and some of the ones I've heard are extremely creative. I personally think it's very cool to watch teams do the fight song, or a fight song when launching. That being said, I do not cheer. I don't scream and yell when the boat is coming down the course, I don't cheer the boat off. Cheering is for the athletes. I give the boat a pat on the shoulder, or a handshake or a high five, but the cheering stays with the athletes.
I'll see you on the top: I don't do this as much, but I used to say this religiously to the boats when they launched.
Red Sox visor: I bought the visor in 2004, just before the Red Sox went on a tear and won their first World Series in 86 years. Since then it's become my good luck visor. It's ratty, old, falling apart, but it's at every single regatta I go to.
Racing laces: I do this each spring. I buy a set of interesting laces for the tennis shoes. At the DIII level the colors didn't matter, but at OSU, I went orange. They don't always make appearances at the regatta site itself as conditions in the PNW can dictate more suitable footwear, but I always have them ready to go for when the day is finished.
No coffee: I drink coffee, but it's more of a social thing. I don't drink coffee at regattas. It's not a caffeine thing because I'll usually take a tea if someone asks, but I simply don't drink coffee. I think it's because I'm already jacked to be there, and the addition of caffeine into my system might have me bouncing off the walls.
Those are the quirks I can think of off the top of my head. I'm sure there are plenty of others, and I know a few friends who've been to multiple regattas who could fill the list more than this.
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