A Peek Inside (Part 11)
Hello loyal readers,
I apologize for the delay between posts. It was difficult coming up with another Peek Inside topic - I enjoy this casual look into coaching - and it's been a busy stretch of meetings, and job preparations. Even with Covid-19, jobs are still moving forward, and I've been preparing my resume for the upcoming summer. A few friends and I have been discussing how many openings we may see this year with the layoff, loss of revenue and such, but three have opened or have been opened thus far, so we may see some movement. Time will tell.
I'm currently gathering information about next year. A part of me feels ready to strike out, but with the loss of the 2020 season, I feel as though there is some unfinished business waiting at the current program. The incoming freshmen represent some interesting possibilities and challenges, and three years at a D1 program will not hurt one bit. But it never hurts to be prepared.
Onto the look inside.
Last summer was my first experience mentoring coaches, which honestly felt a bit odd. In some cases, the mentoring made sense as I worked with younger coaches and some who were just getting into the field. In other cases, I felt as though I were teaching up, questioning, or at least shedding light on a few areas that I felt were lacking. Boat handling, equipment care, running programs, etc. It was an interesting experience to say the least, but I learned a few things along the way.
I don't wish to make this a heavy or deeply personal post, so I thought that I would share some of my own gripes when it comes to coaching.
Dogs in at practice/in launches
I can't stand it when a coach brings a dog to the boathouse. I believe that this cheapens the profession. The athletic director of a university does not bring their dog to the office. The CEO of a company does not bring their dog to work. I find it all too easy to slip into casual mode in coaching, either by attire - we will get to this momentarily - or in act, and bringing a dog to work is one surefire way to do it.
Here is my biggest complaint. Why? Why is the dog here? The dog always distracts in practice prep because athletes flock to it. The dog isn't there for a workout because we're preparing to practice. The dog is simply there to show off.
The duties of a coach in importance are as follows:
- Safety of athletes.
- Safety of others on the waterway.
- Safety of equipment.
- Running the practice.
The dog interferes with all of those. Safety launches are exactly that. For safety. The more people or items, or dogs you have in the launch, the fewer athletes the launch can rescue. The dog is not going to be helping you in an emergency situation, but the dog will be in the way. Furthermore, bringing a dog into the launch divides your attention. And Godforbid that dog decide to jump into the water and try and chase some waterfowl and end up in the drink - I've seen instances of both, far too often - leaving the coach to rescue the dog completely neglecting their primary duties.
Bottom line: No dogs or pets at the boathouse before, or during practice. Ever.
Casual attire in the office
When I was a younger, less experienced coach, I believed that the only thing that mattered was the end result. Wins were wins were wins. You couldn't argue with a win. I felt that winning made everything else somewhat superfluous.
How wrong I was. A head coach took me aside, and began to teach me that professionalism, pride, accountability, and how you present yourself in attitude, and look, matter. Everything you do either went toward driving a message and culture of the team, or hindering it.
It took me about a year to fully understand what the coach was getting at, but it made sense, and the next position I took, I brought that attitude with me. Showing up early and prepared, a reason behind everything we did, a look that was demanded at practice, and on the road. If I was going to lead a team, then I had to look like a leader.
Now, there does seem to be a bit different standard within various programs at the junior and collegiate level, as well as different opinions on dress from coast to coast. I'd say that your east coast programs expect a level of dress near business casual. Slacks, nice shoes, a button down, something similar. Polo shirts, and khakis are the bare minimum. I like to needle my east coast friends by telling me that out west, we have the crazy idea that we measure coaches by how effectively they coach, and now how well they dress. But they have a point.
Going from the collegiate level - where I currently work - I believe that some sort of uniform is demanded. Team gear, and university logo are an every day must. Any time you step onto campus, you must be dressed in gear. Pants I'm less strict on, but they must be pants. Jeans are acceptable, but no holes are allowed. Shoes must be team shorts, or approved shoes. No sandals or sandal type is allowed.
Dean Smith wrote in his autobiography that a lesson he learned as a young coach was to wear a coat and tie into the office regardless of the season. The coach who taught him this lesson reasoned that they couldn't know who might stop by the office, or when they may have to step out and meet someone important, and by dressing well, they would always be prepared. The coat and tie brought a level of professionalism to the job, and I agree, generally.
You are a coach. I am a coach. And I understand that changing constantly isn't something anyone truly wants to do. You want to be able to run from the office to the boathouse in a moments notice, and you don't want to take the time to change. I find this reasonable. This is why my usual get up is a team pullover, a team shirt, team shoes, and jeans. I also find that dressing this way separates you from the "suits" when recruits come to visit. It makes you relatable. That's my opinion.
That being said, I should know that you are a coach, a professional, when I see you. You shouldn't look like you are coming from the gym. I shouldn't mistake you as someone running around town in the current trend of athletic tights, shorts and a top. I shouldn't wonder if you are a GA or athlete.
Cliches
I dislike cliches with a passion, even though I use them. My biggest gripe with them is that they are often not thought through. My personal pet peeve:
"Mileage makes champions."
Worse than nails on a chalkboard, I feel as though you walked into Per Se in New York wearing torn jeans, and a stained shirt, and asked if they could make you a chili dog.
There isn't any thought behind that saying, mileage makes champions. How does mileage make you a champion? It doesn't. I often go after this saying like this.
"Mileage makes champions."
"Oh really? So if I walk 26.2 miles a day, I'll be a champion marathoner?"
"No, you have to run."
"Ah I see. So if I run 26.2 miles a day, I'll be a champion marathoner?"
"No, you have to run fast."
"Ah I see. So if I run a fast 26.2 miles a day, I'll be a champion marathoner?"
"No, there's other things you have to do..."
Right. Covering miles doesn't make you a champion anymore than not covering miles doesn't make you a champion. And the idea that if you do A, B, C, D all the way to Zed, and you'll be a champion is laughable.
In 2016, a boat that I coached won WIRAs. For the first time since 2004, a boat that I'd coached won a title at this championship regatta. It was the weakest boat that I'd ever brought to that championship. It was a good boat, a solid boat that would go on and win a national championship by open water a few week later, but at the time, it wasn't quite there. Prior to 2016, I'd brought six other boats to WIRAs that were stronger including two undefeated boats, and the best we'd done was 2nd place.
You work to eliminate factors or variables as a coach, or what I call "Control the things you can control" but there are many other factors you have no control over. Winning isn't simply having the best crew, or even the best crew that day. Sometimes things simply don't go your way. You don't get a good draw, or the weather shifts, or another boat is having an incredible weekend. Things happen. On the flipside of that coin, sometimes it's your number. The boat that won WIRAs, won by 13 seconds over a boat that two weeks prior had beaten us by nearly 10 seconds on our home course.
That's racing.
I hate cliches.
Stuck in the past
"This is how we've always done it," or "We can't do this because we're not...." I call this stuck in the past, inside the box thinking - I did say I used cliches - whatever or however you want to call it, I can't stand this sort of thinking.
I'm friends with a coach who rowed for, and coached for one of the best collegiate programs in the country. Unbelievable program with plenty of history, depth, and hardware. He told me that each year was a bit different. Regardless of what the results were the year before, the head coach made some subtle or not so subtle changes because they knew that others were studying what had been done.
If ever there was a program to say, "Nope, good enough," it was this program. And yet they didn't.
Not every idea is going to be a genius level idea. Some ideas are pretty silly. I've had terrible ideas that sounded amazing on paper, and were a mess in reality. But the importance of the idea isn't predicated on whether or not it was successful, but that the idea came about.
I love the Master Class ads on YouTube - I also love some of the Grammarly ads because I'm a nerd at heart. One of my favorites, and I wish I could find a link to it because then I'd know if I were correct or not, is with Dan Brown who talks about what he learned from the band, Aerosmith, and their meeting, "Dare to Suck." Just pointing out that I could have the names completely incorrect, but the idea is that daring to suck was a meeting with the band where anyone could present an idea, and the band would hash it out. And it was scary because the idea could be terrible, and according to the ad, many were, but for all the bad ideas, there are a few good ones that resulted in songs we know.
I believe this is the importance of being a good coach, or a good program. You cannot be afraid to fail because being afraid to fail means you'll never fail. Because you'll never try. The cliche about not being able to make an omelette without breaking eggs, etc. the idea is that standing still, to me, basically means death.
All too often we stay where we are because we think, "Hey, I've got a good thing going." And there is nothing wrong with that. But often we mistake complacency for a good thing. We get stuck in place because change is scary, and what happens if it fails, or what happens if it's not better than where we are.
I will point out to coaches who think like this that if they've done their job correctly, and built the team correctly, a misstep on the way toward something else will not derail the program. If the idea is sound but the execution is missing, if everyone knows where the idea is heading, but you just can't get there yet, if the idea is great, but it's simply not going to work for where you are, then you can always come back to your starting point.
And if you can't, then you never had a good foundation to begin with, and it's time to understand that you've failed across the board regardless of your desire to not fail and not upset the status quo.
That's enough for this evening. I hope you're all staying safe out there.
I apologize for the delay between posts. It was difficult coming up with another Peek Inside topic - I enjoy this casual look into coaching - and it's been a busy stretch of meetings, and job preparations. Even with Covid-19, jobs are still moving forward, and I've been preparing my resume for the upcoming summer. A few friends and I have been discussing how many openings we may see this year with the layoff, loss of revenue and such, but three have opened or have been opened thus far, so we may see some movement. Time will tell.
I'm currently gathering information about next year. A part of me feels ready to strike out, but with the loss of the 2020 season, I feel as though there is some unfinished business waiting at the current program. The incoming freshmen represent some interesting possibilities and challenges, and three years at a D1 program will not hurt one bit. But it never hurts to be prepared.
Onto the look inside.
Last summer was my first experience mentoring coaches, which honestly felt a bit odd. In some cases, the mentoring made sense as I worked with younger coaches and some who were just getting into the field. In other cases, I felt as though I were teaching up, questioning, or at least shedding light on a few areas that I felt were lacking. Boat handling, equipment care, running programs, etc. It was an interesting experience to say the least, but I learned a few things along the way.
I don't wish to make this a heavy or deeply personal post, so I thought that I would share some of my own gripes when it comes to coaching.
Dogs in at practice/in launches
I can't stand it when a coach brings a dog to the boathouse. I believe that this cheapens the profession. The athletic director of a university does not bring their dog to the office. The CEO of a company does not bring their dog to work. I find it all too easy to slip into casual mode in coaching, either by attire - we will get to this momentarily - or in act, and bringing a dog to work is one surefire way to do it.
Here is my biggest complaint. Why? Why is the dog here? The dog always distracts in practice prep because athletes flock to it. The dog isn't there for a workout because we're preparing to practice. The dog is simply there to show off.
The duties of a coach in importance are as follows:
- Safety of athletes.
- Safety of others on the waterway.
- Safety of equipment.
- Running the practice.
The dog interferes with all of those. Safety launches are exactly that. For safety. The more people or items, or dogs you have in the launch, the fewer athletes the launch can rescue. The dog is not going to be helping you in an emergency situation, but the dog will be in the way. Furthermore, bringing a dog into the launch divides your attention. And Godforbid that dog decide to jump into the water and try and chase some waterfowl and end up in the drink - I've seen instances of both, far too often - leaving the coach to rescue the dog completely neglecting their primary duties.
Bottom line: No dogs or pets at the boathouse before, or during practice. Ever.
Casual attire in the office
When I was a younger, less experienced coach, I believed that the only thing that mattered was the end result. Wins were wins were wins. You couldn't argue with a win. I felt that winning made everything else somewhat superfluous.
How wrong I was. A head coach took me aside, and began to teach me that professionalism, pride, accountability, and how you present yourself in attitude, and look, matter. Everything you do either went toward driving a message and culture of the team, or hindering it.
It took me about a year to fully understand what the coach was getting at, but it made sense, and the next position I took, I brought that attitude with me. Showing up early and prepared, a reason behind everything we did, a look that was demanded at practice, and on the road. If I was going to lead a team, then I had to look like a leader.
Now, there does seem to be a bit different standard within various programs at the junior and collegiate level, as well as different opinions on dress from coast to coast. I'd say that your east coast programs expect a level of dress near business casual. Slacks, nice shoes, a button down, something similar. Polo shirts, and khakis are the bare minimum. I like to needle my east coast friends by telling me that out west, we have the crazy idea that we measure coaches by how effectively they coach, and now how well they dress. But they have a point.
Going from the collegiate level - where I currently work - I believe that some sort of uniform is demanded. Team gear, and university logo are an every day must. Any time you step onto campus, you must be dressed in gear. Pants I'm less strict on, but they must be pants. Jeans are acceptable, but no holes are allowed. Shoes must be team shorts, or approved shoes. No sandals or sandal type is allowed.
Dean Smith wrote in his autobiography that a lesson he learned as a young coach was to wear a coat and tie into the office regardless of the season. The coach who taught him this lesson reasoned that they couldn't know who might stop by the office, or when they may have to step out and meet someone important, and by dressing well, they would always be prepared. The coat and tie brought a level of professionalism to the job, and I agree, generally.
You are a coach. I am a coach. And I understand that changing constantly isn't something anyone truly wants to do. You want to be able to run from the office to the boathouse in a moments notice, and you don't want to take the time to change. I find this reasonable. This is why my usual get up is a team pullover, a team shirt, team shoes, and jeans. I also find that dressing this way separates you from the "suits" when recruits come to visit. It makes you relatable. That's my opinion.
That being said, I should know that you are a coach, a professional, when I see you. You shouldn't look like you are coming from the gym. I shouldn't mistake you as someone running around town in the current trend of athletic tights, shorts and a top. I shouldn't wonder if you are a GA or athlete.
Cliches
I dislike cliches with a passion, even though I use them. My biggest gripe with them is that they are often not thought through. My personal pet peeve:
"Mileage makes champions."
Worse than nails on a chalkboard, I feel as though you walked into Per Se in New York wearing torn jeans, and a stained shirt, and asked if they could make you a chili dog.
There isn't any thought behind that saying, mileage makes champions. How does mileage make you a champion? It doesn't. I often go after this saying like this.
"Mileage makes champions."
"Oh really? So if I walk 26.2 miles a day, I'll be a champion marathoner?"
"No, you have to run."
"Ah I see. So if I run 26.2 miles a day, I'll be a champion marathoner?"
"No, you have to run fast."
"Ah I see. So if I run a fast 26.2 miles a day, I'll be a champion marathoner?"
"No, there's other things you have to do..."
Right. Covering miles doesn't make you a champion anymore than not covering miles doesn't make you a champion. And the idea that if you do A, B, C, D all the way to Zed, and you'll be a champion is laughable.
In 2016, a boat that I coached won WIRAs. For the first time since 2004, a boat that I'd coached won a title at this championship regatta. It was the weakest boat that I'd ever brought to that championship. It was a good boat, a solid boat that would go on and win a national championship by open water a few week later, but at the time, it wasn't quite there. Prior to 2016, I'd brought six other boats to WIRAs that were stronger including two undefeated boats, and the best we'd done was 2nd place.
You work to eliminate factors or variables as a coach, or what I call "Control the things you can control" but there are many other factors you have no control over. Winning isn't simply having the best crew, or even the best crew that day. Sometimes things simply don't go your way. You don't get a good draw, or the weather shifts, or another boat is having an incredible weekend. Things happen. On the flipside of that coin, sometimes it's your number. The boat that won WIRAs, won by 13 seconds over a boat that two weeks prior had beaten us by nearly 10 seconds on our home course.
That's racing.
I hate cliches.
Stuck in the past
"This is how we've always done it," or "We can't do this because we're not...." I call this stuck in the past, inside the box thinking - I did say I used cliches - whatever or however you want to call it, I can't stand this sort of thinking.
I'm friends with a coach who rowed for, and coached for one of the best collegiate programs in the country. Unbelievable program with plenty of history, depth, and hardware. He told me that each year was a bit different. Regardless of what the results were the year before, the head coach made some subtle or not so subtle changes because they knew that others were studying what had been done.
If ever there was a program to say, "Nope, good enough," it was this program. And yet they didn't.
Not every idea is going to be a genius level idea. Some ideas are pretty silly. I've had terrible ideas that sounded amazing on paper, and were a mess in reality. But the importance of the idea isn't predicated on whether or not it was successful, but that the idea came about.
I love the Master Class ads on YouTube - I also love some of the Grammarly ads because I'm a nerd at heart. One of my favorites, and I wish I could find a link to it because then I'd know if I were correct or not, is with Dan Brown who talks about what he learned from the band, Aerosmith, and their meeting, "Dare to Suck." Just pointing out that I could have the names completely incorrect, but the idea is that daring to suck was a meeting with the band where anyone could present an idea, and the band would hash it out. And it was scary because the idea could be terrible, and according to the ad, many were, but for all the bad ideas, there are a few good ones that resulted in songs we know.
I believe this is the importance of being a good coach, or a good program. You cannot be afraid to fail because being afraid to fail means you'll never fail. Because you'll never try. The cliche about not being able to make an omelette without breaking eggs, etc. the idea is that standing still, to me, basically means death.
All too often we stay where we are because we think, "Hey, I've got a good thing going." And there is nothing wrong with that. But often we mistake complacency for a good thing. We get stuck in place because change is scary, and what happens if it fails, or what happens if it's not better than where we are.
I will point out to coaches who think like this that if they've done their job correctly, and built the team correctly, a misstep on the way toward something else will not derail the program. If the idea is sound but the execution is missing, if everyone knows where the idea is heading, but you just can't get there yet, if the idea is great, but it's simply not going to work for where you are, then you can always come back to your starting point.
And if you can't, then you never had a good foundation to begin with, and it's time to understand that you've failed across the board regardless of your desire to not fail and not upset the status quo.
That's enough for this evening. I hope you're all staying safe out there.
 |
Comments