A Peek Inside (Part 8)
Hello readers,
We just wrapped our weekly team meeting. It was good to catch up with the athletes and see how they're doing.
Verdict: They're bored. Addendum: Very bored.
It's understandable, and as the PNW does what it does best and transitions seasons, the days are getting longer, the sun is up, and we would just be wrapping up practice on the water right now, likely loading the trailer for a night run with an overnight. Without checking the schedule, I'd say that it's probably another Redwood Shores weekend. Twist my arm that I have to go back to the Bay Area - a place I absolutely love.
And that got me thinking about my favorite things about being a coach. I don't have a list from top to bottom, and feelings will certainly ebb and flow. I think I ask myself the same question at least once a week during the winter in the PNW, "Couldn't I have chosen an indoor sport?" The lovely thing about coaching in the PNW is that by the time your clothing dries from the morning rain, it's just in time to get wet again for the afternoon rain.
Also, I dislike snow. Well, I like going to snow. I love snowboarding. I want to get some skis. But snow where I am? No thanks. I don't like dealing with it, I don't like other people driving in it - I'm confident in my ability to handle snow, but that confidence does not extend to anyone else, especially in the cities - I don't like that it seems to get everywhere, and then melt. No good.
But I love the PNW. As a born, and bred California boy - that was my first nickname upon moving to Oregon with the family in the late 90s - I'm all about the sun, surf, sand, and high heat. But the PNW has grown on me. I don't think much compares to a glorious summer day in the mid valley. The different shades of green, and the lush valleys are awesome, and I love the mountains - Cascades and Coastal - and their hidden gems.
With that out of the way, let's get to it! In no particular order, my favorite things about being a coach.
1. Morning practices
Especially dark mornings when the sun is just starting to peak. Here in the valley we can get some thick foggy mornings, and watching the sunlight break through, seeing the dark shadows of the trees, and how quiet the world is at 6 am is magical. Fog isn't ideal for technical days, but it's fun to watch boats slip in and out of a fog bank.
2. Road trips
I love the road trips. The food can suck - I can tell you that the last thing I want to eat when the season ends is a Subway sandwich - but I love getting out and moving. It's fun driving down the highways, usually chatting about coaching the entire time. There's something I love about pulling into a gas station in the middle of nowhere and fueling up, people staring at this 40' behemoth with..."Are those.....missiles," grabbing trucker coffee - Pilot has the most consistent coffee - and then heading out. There's a romance about it. And while the plane might be faster, trailer driving means you get to dress down in the most comfortable team gear of the year.
- Longest trip: 14 days (PNW to Philly, New Jersey then home).
- Longest single day: 18 hours (PNW to Las Vegas).
- Worst trip: Eastern Washington.
- Favorite place: Redwood Shores, San Diego.
- Go to road trip snack: Red Vines or Sour Patch Kids.
- Favorite drink that's not coffee: Iced tea.
- Worst road trip experience: Nearly running out of gas on Mt. Shasta, but that was more hilarious than anything else.
- Travel music: We talk. Constantly.
3. Those breakthrough moments
Breakthroughs. I love those moments when an athlete "gets it." These are easiest on the ergs because the monitor is right there. The water is a bit more nuanced. What I'll tell walk-ons, or novices is that the "breakthrough" happens when we've been working on a particular bit of tech for a while, and then a practice ends and you realize I didn't say your name once. Coaching is about teaching and development. Let me put this bluntly:
If you're in coaching because you want medals, championships, and statues, you're in it for the wrong reasons, and you are most assuredly not in this for the athletes.
4. It's fun
A simple one. Coaching is fun. I get to work with driven, ambitious athletes who think they're pretty good at this rowing thing, and make them better. It is challenging, and frustrating, but it's also almost always fun. If you're not having fun with this, if you're not chomping at the bit each day you come down to the boathouse, if this life is a drag, then why do it? Coaching is a blast.
5. It challenges you to be better
This sport is fluid. I'm sure all sports are. There's always a new technique coming out, or there's a new way to teach a standard. Everyone has their own opinions on what the key element is to making a boat go fast. The best boats don't always win. The worst boats are still decently fast. So many roads lead to Rome and it's easy to get lost in it all. It's easy, as I like to say, to go down the rabbit hole. Each fast team or boat seems to do something that you want to emulate. You have to sort through all the data, and all the sensory overload. The Yales, and UWs and Cals of the world make you sit there and consider ripping up your training program. You become opinionated about what works and what doesn't and you have to always - or should always - be evaluating, and shifting. It's a lot of late nights, and early mornings.
6. So many lessons
Tying into the challenges, you learn a lot about yourself when you coach. Every Tom, Dick, and Harry in every sports bar in the world watching any sport will tell you that they can do a better job. But can they really? No. Because if they could, they'd be there instead of in the bar. The point is that it's easy to point fingers and say, "Well if I'd been in charge..." but the fact of the matter is that it's not that easy. When you get the big chair, you suddenly realize that you're not in the center of a spiderweb. No, you're in the center of a target and everyone has plenty of ammunition.
Coach Chip Kelly had a saying at Oregon: Win the Day. So many would dismiss that, but that literally is coaching in a nutshell. Win the day. Then win the next day. Winning, at least in my opinion, it's winning in the traditional sense, but winning in the philosophical/metaphorical sense.
Did you lose your temper? Did you explain a drill well? Were you prepared for practice? Did the team get better? Did a particular athlete get better? How did you handle yourself after losing a race, or losing a championship, or losing a heat?
I'm often accused of being emotionless. I was at a program once where I was losing my temper with an athlete who wasn't responding to emails, or texts, and was skipping practices. One day when he skipped yet another meeting, I slammed my hand onto the desk, bringing the office to a dead stop. The head coach said, "Wow! Finally some emotion." The truth is that I'm highly emotional. I tell visitors and those who ride in the launch that heaven and hell pass by me at least a dozen times a practice. But I can't react. I try not to get too high about anything because I know that when the highs exist, the lows do as well. I have a 24-hour cooling off rule, unless safety was involved. But these are lessons learned. These are things I've learned over time.
7. It makes you feel like you're making a difference
I go back to what I said earlier about being in coaching. If you're after glory, get out of coaching. Because it's not about the athletes, you've made it about you. You can try and pretend that the winning and medals are about them, but they're not, and you're only kidding yourself.
Coaching is about teaching and development. My philosophy is to use the athletics environment to teach lessons that will last a lifetime. Teach athletes to face challenges, and address fears. To build confidence, real confidence, and to learn to compete. To be able to plan ahead, and trust the process, and to develop their own process and take ownership of their own achievements and goals.
The last time I won a medal was at the conference championships my senior year in college. I got a gold, and a silver. That was spring 2004. I haven't won a single medal or championship since. I have coached athletes who've won medals, and won championships, but those aren't mine. That's my program, those are my athletes, but they put in the work to win. Hopefully along the way, they developed the mentality to go after things they want out of life with equal determination and focus. That's what coaching is. It's not trophies or banners. It's end of the year pictures, and letters years after the fact from athletes.
We just wrapped our weekly team meeting. It was good to catch up with the athletes and see how they're doing.
Verdict: They're bored. Addendum: Very bored.
It's understandable, and as the PNW does what it does best and transitions seasons, the days are getting longer, the sun is up, and we would just be wrapping up practice on the water right now, likely loading the trailer for a night run with an overnight. Without checking the schedule, I'd say that it's probably another Redwood Shores weekend. Twist my arm that I have to go back to the Bay Area - a place I absolutely love.
And that got me thinking about my favorite things about being a coach. I don't have a list from top to bottom, and feelings will certainly ebb and flow. I think I ask myself the same question at least once a week during the winter in the PNW, "Couldn't I have chosen an indoor sport?" The lovely thing about coaching in the PNW is that by the time your clothing dries from the morning rain, it's just in time to get wet again for the afternoon rain.
Also, I dislike snow. Well, I like going to snow. I love snowboarding. I want to get some skis. But snow where I am? No thanks. I don't like dealing with it, I don't like other people driving in it - I'm confident in my ability to handle snow, but that confidence does not extend to anyone else, especially in the cities - I don't like that it seems to get everywhere, and then melt. No good.
 |
| Driving home on the backside of the Sierra Nevadas after Las Vegas 2020 |
But I love the PNW. As a born, and bred California boy - that was my first nickname upon moving to Oregon with the family in the late 90s - I'm all about the sun, surf, sand, and high heat. But the PNW has grown on me. I don't think much compares to a glorious summer day in the mid valley. The different shades of green, and the lush valleys are awesome, and I love the mountains - Cascades and Coastal - and their hidden gems.
With that out of the way, let's get to it! In no particular order, my favorite things about being a coach.
1. Morning practices
Especially dark mornings when the sun is just starting to peak. Here in the valley we can get some thick foggy mornings, and watching the sunlight break through, seeing the dark shadows of the trees, and how quiet the world is at 6 am is magical. Fog isn't ideal for technical days, but it's fun to watch boats slip in and out of a fog bank.
2. Road trips
I love the road trips. The food can suck - I can tell you that the last thing I want to eat when the season ends is a Subway sandwich - but I love getting out and moving. It's fun driving down the highways, usually chatting about coaching the entire time. There's something I love about pulling into a gas station in the middle of nowhere and fueling up, people staring at this 40' behemoth with..."Are those.....missiles," grabbing trucker coffee - Pilot has the most consistent coffee - and then heading out. There's a romance about it. And while the plane might be faster, trailer driving means you get to dress down in the most comfortable team gear of the year.
- Longest trip: 14 days (PNW to Philly, New Jersey then home).
- Longest single day: 18 hours (PNW to Las Vegas).
- Worst trip: Eastern Washington.
- Favorite place: Redwood Shores, San Diego.
- Go to road trip snack: Red Vines or Sour Patch Kids.
- Favorite drink that's not coffee: Iced tea.
- Worst road trip experience: Nearly running out of gas on Mt. Shasta, but that was more hilarious than anything else.
- Travel music: We talk. Constantly.
3. Those breakthrough moments
Breakthroughs. I love those moments when an athlete "gets it." These are easiest on the ergs because the monitor is right there. The water is a bit more nuanced. What I'll tell walk-ons, or novices is that the "breakthrough" happens when we've been working on a particular bit of tech for a while, and then a practice ends and you realize I didn't say your name once. Coaching is about teaching and development. Let me put this bluntly:
If you're in coaching because you want medals, championships, and statues, you're in it for the wrong reasons, and you are most assuredly not in this for the athletes.
4. It's fun
A simple one. Coaching is fun. I get to work with driven, ambitious athletes who think they're pretty good at this rowing thing, and make them better. It is challenging, and frustrating, but it's also almost always fun. If you're not having fun with this, if you're not chomping at the bit each day you come down to the boathouse, if this life is a drag, then why do it? Coaching is a blast.
5. It challenges you to be better
This sport is fluid. I'm sure all sports are. There's always a new technique coming out, or there's a new way to teach a standard. Everyone has their own opinions on what the key element is to making a boat go fast. The best boats don't always win. The worst boats are still decently fast. So many roads lead to Rome and it's easy to get lost in it all. It's easy, as I like to say, to go down the rabbit hole. Each fast team or boat seems to do something that you want to emulate. You have to sort through all the data, and all the sensory overload. The Yales, and UWs and Cals of the world make you sit there and consider ripping up your training program. You become opinionated about what works and what doesn't and you have to always - or should always - be evaluating, and shifting. It's a lot of late nights, and early mornings.
6. So many lessons
Tying into the challenges, you learn a lot about yourself when you coach. Every Tom, Dick, and Harry in every sports bar in the world watching any sport will tell you that they can do a better job. But can they really? No. Because if they could, they'd be there instead of in the bar. The point is that it's easy to point fingers and say, "Well if I'd been in charge..." but the fact of the matter is that it's not that easy. When you get the big chair, you suddenly realize that you're not in the center of a spiderweb. No, you're in the center of a target and everyone has plenty of ammunition.
Coach Chip Kelly had a saying at Oregon: Win the Day. So many would dismiss that, but that literally is coaching in a nutshell. Win the day. Then win the next day. Winning, at least in my opinion, it's winning in the traditional sense, but winning in the philosophical/metaphorical sense.
Did you lose your temper? Did you explain a drill well? Were you prepared for practice? Did the team get better? Did a particular athlete get better? How did you handle yourself after losing a race, or losing a championship, or losing a heat?
I'm often accused of being emotionless. I was at a program once where I was losing my temper with an athlete who wasn't responding to emails, or texts, and was skipping practices. One day when he skipped yet another meeting, I slammed my hand onto the desk, bringing the office to a dead stop. The head coach said, "Wow! Finally some emotion." The truth is that I'm highly emotional. I tell visitors and those who ride in the launch that heaven and hell pass by me at least a dozen times a practice. But I can't react. I try not to get too high about anything because I know that when the highs exist, the lows do as well. I have a 24-hour cooling off rule, unless safety was involved. But these are lessons learned. These are things I've learned over time.
7. It makes you feel like you're making a difference
I go back to what I said earlier about being in coaching. If you're after glory, get out of coaching. Because it's not about the athletes, you've made it about you. You can try and pretend that the winning and medals are about them, but they're not, and you're only kidding yourself.
Coaching is about teaching and development. My philosophy is to use the athletics environment to teach lessons that will last a lifetime. Teach athletes to face challenges, and address fears. To build confidence, real confidence, and to learn to compete. To be able to plan ahead, and trust the process, and to develop their own process and take ownership of their own achievements and goals.
The last time I won a medal was at the conference championships my senior year in college. I got a gold, and a silver. That was spring 2004. I haven't won a single medal or championship since. I have coached athletes who've won medals, and won championships, but those aren't mine. That's my program, those are my athletes, but they put in the work to win. Hopefully along the way, they developed the mentality to go after things they want out of life with equal determination and focus. That's what coaching is. It's not trophies or banners. It's end of the year pictures, and letters years after the fact from athletes.
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