Somewhere sits a graduate student mulling how his thesis project will expose the secrets of coaching. Eureka! So this is what makes them great. Now give me my degree.
It is no more possible to determine how great coaches do it than it is to explain why gas prices fluctuate three times in a day, even though the tanker is still in port. But we can come close.
In “Blink: The Power of Thinking Without Thinking,” author Malcolm Gladwell describes research studies used to determine the impact of preconceived notions. The studies suggest that people can be “primed” to think a certain way. In one instance, a series of word jumble puzzles containing specific suggestive words actually made its participants walk away from the tests somewhat hunched over and acting “old.” In another, black students did poorer on tests when they had to first indicate on a form what their race was. Of course, they would deny its effect, he says, yet admit that perhaps they weren’t smart enough to be there.
Gladwell writes, “…what we think is free will is largely an illusion: much of the time, we are simply operating on automatic pilot, and the way we think and act-and how well we think and act on the spur of the moment- are a lot more susceptible to outside influences than we realize.”
Perhaps coaches “succeed” by suggesting behaviours and attitudes and “willing” top performances from their athletes. It just can’t be as simple as choosing the right drills and having interesting practices. Then again, why not? A drill is right because the kids learn and improve from it. How did the coach know it would work? As for practices, plenty of coaches run good ones. They have flow and variety and are largely fun. The youngsters leave these practices better than when they arrived. What made this particular set of activities produce the desired result?
We tend to call it instinct, itself an amalgam of experience, knowledge and that certain “je ne sais quoi” no one is able to put a finger on. It’s the same intangible scouts use. There are the obvious signs of talent: size, speed, agility, strength, stats, etc. And there are the not-so-obvious ones: effort, attitude, intuitiveness, vision, teamwork, anticipation, etc. Explain how three people can sit in the stands to evaluate a young hockey player and come up with different views of the player’s potential. When picking a team, a coach is doing that very thing, attempting to predict how the youngster, in a formative time of life, will pan out six months ahead and where, even if, this child might fit in a team concept.
There are coaches in minor who will favour “dark horses,” the kids who either never made it before or did from time to time, consistent only in their inconsistency. Some coaches, perhaps most, believe they can draw something from the child that previous coaches could not. When you consider the massive changes that can happen to kids between seasons, they may be right. The bantam coach who just couldn’t get anywhere with this young forward sees him graduate to midget. Over the spring and summer, the child gets turned on by fitness training, happens to grow three inches and 15 pounds, attends a great hockey school, and learns to enjoy the new-found energy of high school. Suddenly, the average bantam becomes a darned good midget age player and his new coach looks brilliant for selecting him. Sorry, midget coach, but that was less prescience and far more natural biology. In nature, young things grow and mature. The trick to coaching is determining where one is on that growth curve and how to make the best of both the good times and tough ones. That same bantam child has more high school pressures to contend with along with uncertainties related to a host of basic functions.
The great coaches seem to understand where the pressure points are on the growth curve. They know which buttons to push. They have a sense of when to back off and when to demand more. Their players respond positively not because of needing to fulfill performance objectives but rather because they want to. Want, like caring, is a powerful emotion. They have a compunction to perform as best they can. They want to play for that coach that day, that year. Their individual goals haven’t been set aside. Instead, they begin to see that by playing for this coach, they are more likely to meet those goals. They are both comfortable in the environment yet uncomfortable enough to want to get more comfortable. They are at ease with a coach who senses their frustrations but treats them respectfully. The coach who empathizes may not be one to confide in with an issue, but would certainly understand if one did.
These minor hockey coaches are also teachers in the non-technical sense. It doesn’t matter whether they’re guides from the side or sages on the stage. Successful coaches are able to slide from one role to the other imperceptibly. The kids don’t really see there’s been a switch in roles. All they see is that the coach is doing what the coach does well and probably has good reason for it. They trust him. They respect him.
Is this being creative? In other words, do some coaches consciously take on a role as a situation warrants? It’s not quite so simple. You don’t say to yourself halfway through a wonky practice, “Time to get tough with the kids because they’re not working.” Not all drills go well, nor do all practices. Indeed, why aren’t they working? The self-analysis coaches need to do is an integral part of the creative process because it’s an innate attempt to improve. If the coach improves, the child will benefit. Let’s not confuse this with being self-critical, although it’s a subset. Creative coaches sub-consciously dissect what they do and say then seek better ways. The next step is figuring out from where to get the better ways. Yes, often, it will be scribbles on a notepad. More likely, these coaches store the information in a brain folder labelled “Fix this stuff” and dip into it from time to time to check on what’s been done.
Is it this constant reflection by the creative coach that results in teams doing well? Is there something to be said for Gladwell’s point about behaviour and, in this case, performance, being “suggested”?
If there’s some truth to the theory, we could conclude that creative coaches who work at improving their craft and the lot of their athletes do so in a fishbowl. Their efforts are plainly visible. Deliberate or not, the coach’s comportment and approach are observed by players. They will take their cues from the coach. This explains why it is so often said that a team takes on the personality of its coach. More accurately, the kids will take on those characteristics of the coach that they can see or are expected to see.
All minor coaches have expectations of their players and they really don’t vary that much, even when comparing highly competitive players with those who play once a week for nothing other than the love of the game. Winning is a component. But let’s face it, as soon as the scoreboard turns on, everyone wants to win. The manner in which coaches go about it is another story. The kids also have expectations. As soon as they meet up with a coach whose goals and approach clash with their own, trouble ensues.
Here’s another place where creative coaches seem to hit the mark. They’re willing to adapt their expectations to make it feasible for players to want to play. This doesn’t mean lower expectations. You can have high expectations of a group and successfully massage these into the framework of a season. Because the coach appears to be flexible, the kids’ trust in and respect for him increase. Remember that coaching minor hockey does not have the same connotation of the classroom teacher nor parent nor favourite relative. Often trust and respect for those others is either inherent in their roles or develops over long periods of time. Minor hockey coaches have no such luxury. A house league coach who sees the team for 3-4 hours per week hardly has the facility to easily build a strong relationship with players. So it needs to be more like instant coffee than a lovingly brewed pot.
Top notch minor hockey coaches understand this and their players feel it. You can see it in the dressing room, on the ice in practice, and on the bench during games. It’s a positive atmosphere even when things go poorly, as they will in sport.
Are creative coaches synonymous with successful ones? Over the long haul, yes. Any coach who’s been in the game for a few years and has worked with different levels knows the need to adapt. This requires work. The teams respond accordingly. Even teams that aren’t especially skilled or are over-matched at their levels will show the fruits of the coach’s labour long after he’s left the scene. We tend to put a lot of stock, for instance in junior players reaching their destinations because of the midget coach. But it was the novice, atom, pee wee and bantam coaches who created the tools for the midget coach to apply. The grade 11 student understands “Hamlet” because he was taught the meaning of words in elementary school. It began with Dr. Seuss, not Hemingway.
Creative coaches may have some inherently creative qualities that others don’t. While they can’t paint a fresco, they do analyze behaviour rather than productivity. They work at improving themselves and increasing their knowledge. They challenge kids and expect the kids to develop the desire to challenge themselves. This is where the idea of preconceived or suggested actions appears again. In their hockey environment, the youngsters feel they are part of a process. It’s fun, intriguing and rewarding because the coach has made it so. As a result, they behave and perform accordingly. How simple is that?
Next: The kids and tactics conundrum
