Tag Archives: coaching

Coaching matters

Leave a reply

I mentioned yesterday that I’ve been struggling to push myself in workouts. Today I went to my friend’s gym with him and I did his routine. First of all, having a workout buddy is a great motivator. But also, we did exercises I haven’t done before and he coached me through them. He even coached me on bench press, which I’ve done quite a bit of before.

I can’t stress how valuable it is to get good coaching. Subtle changes in body position can make a huge difference in working the right muscles, and performing in a way that’s more efficient, effective, and safe. And when you are trying to work a muscle and you actually isolate it such that you aren’t cheating using other nearby muscles, you are bound to see better gains than doing the same reps and weight but with poor technique.

Good coaching really matters and today I got to push myself harder than I have in a while. So much so, I think I need a nap to recover.

Blast from the past

Yesterday I went to a friends house. I knew he was trying to gather some old friends I haven’t seen in a while, but did not expect to see so many, including 6 people I haven’t seen in over 25 years. To put this in a bit more perspective, of these six, the oldest is 49, so I hadn’t seen them in more than half their lifetimes.

They were all from my water polo coaching career, and I knew them all as high school students, when I worked at a highschool as lifeguard as well as swim and water polo coach, and also coached a club team that many of them played on. Reminiscing was so much fun! It was shocking to me how young some of these (almost 50 year old) ‘kids’ looked. It was a delight to hear about their families, and lives since I knew them.

I find it wonderfully heartwarming that I can meet someone I haven’t seen in so long and yet it’s almost like no time has passed since we last met. Sports does that, they build a comradery among players and coaches that can last a lifetime.

Those 6 were not the only people gathered. There were several others who were there whom I haven’t seen since before covid, and so while the gap wasn’t that long, it was still amazing to spend time with them.

I marvel that so much time has passed since my coaching days… since I trained and coached with these dedicated, young athletes. They were my extended family. They still feel that way. That so much time can pass and yet I feel so connected, is very special.

This gathering is something I’ll remember for a very long time… and hopefully it won’t be another 25 years before I see them all again.

Don’t know what you don’t know

I broke my bow a couple weeks ago, and bought a used but better bow than the one I had. This new-to-me bow was used by a top Canadian archer at the World Championships a few years ago… it’s a better bow than I’ll ever need. But I’m having such a hard time with it.

To be clear, it’s not the bow, it’s me. I’m a go cart driver trying to drive a Ferrari. With my old bow, I could tell when I was shooting well and when I struggled. With this bow, I’m shooting and it feels good, but with inconsistent results. Good shots and bad shots feel the same. Worse shots feel like the bow has a mind of its own, torquing in my hand after my shot, the string hitting my arm. I never had this issue with my old bow.

Here’s the challenge, I don’t know what I’m doing wrong? I don’t know what I don’t know. I’ve made all kinds of adjustments and still get inconsistent results. Yesterday while practicing, my buddy who is helping coach me heard me complain (again) that the bow feels too narrow on my hand, and I don’t know why.

He said, ‘Well, you can keep complaining and do the same thing, and get the same results. Or you can stop and try to fix it.’ And he sent me to get cardboard and tape, and try to make the grip wider to see if that helped. Covid makes these conversations a bit tougher, because he’s making suggestions from a distance, where we would normally be shoulder-to-shoulder working this out. So, he shot a couple more rounds while I hacked away at cardboard and wrapped my handle in tape.

It seemed to work, a lot of inconsistencies went away. I started shooting better, and the string stopped hitting my arm after my shot. I came home and wrapped a new handle with better material than cardboard, surrounded by some tennis racket over grip.

I’ll give this a try for a while. It might help considerably. It might be one of many adjustments I make. It might be something that promotes bad habits and I might need to undo it and start all over again. I need to remember that I’ve only had this bow for two weeks, and I’m still a rookie on a huge learning curve. Right now I’m in an experimental phase and need to shoot my next 1,000 arrows before I can consider my feedback valid enough to ‘know’ more. It’s hard to fix things when you don’t know what you don’t know…

Back to archery and a focus on process

Yesterday I took a hacksaw to the combination lock on my compound bow case. It has been about a year-and-a-half since I shot any arrows with this bow. I did shoot some arrows one afternoon this summer, but that was with a recurve bow, for 45 minutes. Other than that, I basically shelved my new hobby for way too long… obviously to the point that I couldn’t even remember the combination to the case lock.

Today I was lucky enough to be able to shoot a few arrows, and get some (safe and socially distanced) coaching. I was expecting to be rusty, and to have bad form, but I shot surprisingly well. Then I got some key coaching around my thumb release that helped me shoot the most consistent I’ve ever shot!

Reflecting on how well things went, I think that I am fortunate to have a few things going for me. First, I’m still fairly new, so I don’t have years of ingrained bad habits. Second, I had some decent coaching early on, and my bow hand and anchor (where I place my draw hand against my face) are things that came back to me really easily. Third, I’ve kept myself really fit, and having recently recovered from an shoulder injury, a few of the exercises were also excellent for improving my archery strength as well. And finally, I had excellent coaching!

I started archery in the summer 2016. I was recovering from 6 months of chronic fatigue, and realized that if I didn’t start this hobby I’ve wanted to start at this time of renewal, I never would. Then in 2019 I made an intentional decision not to spend time on archery when I rededicated myself to being healthy, but realized to make certain commitments, I also had to make some sacrifices. Now, as 2020 comes to a close, I’ve decided that archery is something I really enjoy and want to get back into.

My favourite part of archery is that it is all about process. Yes, I want to shoot well, and yes the ‘end result’ of where the arrow lands is important. However, once I’ve released the arrow, there is nothing I can do to change that shot. If it isn’t as good as I had hoped, I have a choice of letting it affect my next shot, or I can focus on the process and shooting ‘fresh’ and probably better the next time. It is a mental game that forces me to to ‘let go’ of results and focus on being present. It is a form of meditation, of being in the moment. And for someone who tends to be ‘in my head’ a lot, archery doesn’t allow me to escape from ‘the now’.

I’m excited about returning to this fun hobby, and I’m sure that I’ll have more lessons to learn from, and reflect on, in the coming months.

The power of a good teacher

Last night I asked this question onTwitter:

I didn’t know that I would become a teacher until I was almost 30, so I can’t say that any teachers influenced me to become a teacher, but I had many that inspired the kind of teacher I wanted to be.

Mr. Lapoint taught me not to be a marshmallow in class, and I started my career telling kids to speak up, go beyond the expected answers, and to not be marshmallows. That said, this motorcycle loving hippie was tough as nails and had high expectations… and scared me a little.

Mrs. Lane taught me to love fiction and helped me find my writing voice. She was one of my favourites and I think of her as inspiring me to be the kind of teacher I want to be.

Mrs. Forster made me appreciate social studies. She also stepped up to coach a sport she knew nothing about, and encouraged me to become a player coach… in a way this was inspiration to becoming a teacher since continuing on as a coach is where my passion for working with kids came from.

Mr. Towe taught me that I have a creative side.

Mr. Harrison made learning fun.

I had other teachers that influenced me and helped me know what kind of teacher I wouldn’t want to be, but that’s not the spirit with which I started this post and I won’t mention any names.

Mr. Greven was never my teacher, but he taught in the high school where I worked as a lifeguard and coach, and he came to work every day whistling with joy. And when a kid was late with an assignment, he would tap me and ask me to nudge the kid, because he knew I had a good relationship with them as their coach.

Overall, I had many good and great teachers, and while they may not be the reason I became a teacher, they gave me respect for the profession, and left me with positive learning experiences.

Teachers make a difference!

2nd place

It’s the proudest I’ve ever been as a coach. But we didn’t win the game. I was coaching the York Maverick Juvenile (17 and under) Girls Water Polo Team, in the gold medal game, at the Provincial Championships in Guelph, Ontario. It was a round-robin tournament and we came in first in the preliminaries, and then won against the 4th place team to get to the finals.

The other team, that got second in the prelims, and was competing against us for gold was Ottawa. The Ottawa team was significantly more experienced than us and we were the underdogs when we beat them in the preliminaries. We had never beat them in the regular season, and my girls played amazing, shocking everyone by winning that game. It was the early 90’s so this next point might be off by a little bit, but I recall that with a dozen 17-and-under year old players on each team, Ottawa had about 27 more years playing experience than us. They were expected to easily sweep the tournament after a perfect season. That didn’t happen. My girls played the game of their lives to that point and we went into the gold medal game having beat them once the day before.

A couple hours before the gold medal game I held a team meeting in one of the hotel rooms. We were packed in, and actually had to go into the hallway to demonstrate a defensive move we needed to work on. One of the Ottawa plays they were doing was this pick or screen that I thought was illegal. One of their players would swim away from the play and do this screen, with the sole intention of impeding one of my players covering another player. I thought it was illegal, the referees wouldn’t call it. So we went to the hotel hallway so that we could see and feel what needed to be done to prevent this from working as well as it did in the previous game. We also had an impromptu violin performance from one of the girl’s boyfriends, and the girls were pumped to go play, and hopefully beat, this previously intimidating Ottawa team again.

The gold medal game was intense, it was exciting, and it was nerve-wracking! My girls were once again playing the game of their lives. We were even up by a couple goals at the half. But the Ottawa team was well coached, very good, and they didn’t panic. They played their own experienced, confident game and half-way through the final period they took a one goal lead.

I called a time-out, and gave my starters a bit of a rest. I can’t say that I gave them any kind of special pep talk, simply telling them to rest and keep playing the strong game that they played all along, and to muscle through that illegal pick that was still causing us grief. Good defense means less goals for them and more time on offence for us. Our team tied the game pretty quickly and every play going into the final minutes of the period were anxiety-filled and intense. The period ended on a tie.

The overtime rules for the medal round was two 3-minute periods, then if still tied, the game went into 5-minute sudden death periods. In the first overtime period Ottawa scored and we couldn’t answer. In the second overtime, Christine drew a kick-out (penalty) from the hole (the centre offence) and she scored on the power play. The two timed overtime periods ended in a draw, now came the sudden death rounds.

So many years later, I don’t remember how long they played in this final period. I only remember the final sequence that ended the game. We were on offence and our shot clock was running out. Arianna caught a pass from about 7 meters out and we were all yelling, “Shoot!” Arianna took the shot, the ball hit the crossbar and floated on the goal line. I remember seeing the goal judge, on the same side of the pool deck as us, stand up out of his chair, flag in hand ready to wave it if the ball fully crossed the goal line. It didn’t. The goalie reached back and plucked the ball from its precarious spot, half-way into the net. We were literally centimetres away from winning the goal medal game… millimetres if you consider the location of the ball as it hit the crossbar.

The goalie then passed the ball down the right wing, it was passed further down to one of Ottawa’s strongest players. She had a slight lead on my player, but my player was swimming hard and taking good position to prevent a breakaway to the net. The Ottawa player picked up the ball and took a hard shot across the net. My goalie, Titia, made a great save. She had the angle covered and had to reach across the net to block the shot. She did, but the rebound landed right on the hand of an Ottawa player, who did a quick wrist-shot before the defence could react. With such a quick rebound shot, Titia was still out of position from the previous shot and the wrist shot went easily into the unprotected side of our net.

We lost.

I remember tears welling up in my eyes. Yes, it hurt to lose. Yes, it was gut-wrenching to think how close we came to winning less than 20 seconds earlier. But as much as that hurt filled me, I also felt joy. I felt proud of what my girls had done. They played their hearts out. They put everything they had into they game. I remember Christine holding on to the edge of the pool, my fittest athlete, asking for help to get out. After helping her, she lay on the pool deck exhausted, defeated, having put everything into the game. I remember seeing the tears in everyone’s eyes and just being overwhelmed, not in disappointment as much as in pride. These girls did everything they could to win. They played for the second game in a row against a much more experienced team, and showed that they were worthy opponents. They were silver medalists with hearts of gold.

I’ve coached gold medal winners. I’ve played in gold medal games, and worn the gold medal around my neck as a player and as a coach. I’ve never had a moment in sports that I’ve been more proud of a team than I was in that tournament, and that second place finish.

In the zone

I am not a natural athlete. A great coach once said to me after a practice, “Dave, there are two kinds of people in the world, the talented and the hard workers… you are a hard worker.” He was right, and I appreciated his honesty.

I played water polo. My first year, Grade 11, I was last off the bench and easily the weakest player. I was always the slowest swimmer on the team and my stroke efficiency was awful. But I worked my butt off!

I’m pretty sure not playing any organized sports before Grade 11 hindered my abilities. I had a lot of catching up to do to transfer pickup soccer and street hockey skills, and make them worthy of competitive team play. I worked hard and got better, but I played with teammates who understood the game, and some who had laser accuracy with their shots, and many who could swim much faster and more efficiently than me.

But sometimes I could get in the zone. Sometimes the game slowed down for me and I could see more action around me. Sometimes I could see the play forming and feel the rhythm of the game. I didn’t have a switch I could turn on, I didn’t know what I could do to put myself in the zone. I didn’t have control of it.

It has been years since I was in a similar athletic situation, but in a pickup basketball game on Friday I felt it again. It was wonderful to remember what it was like to be fully present in a game. It’s a pretty special thing when you can feel yourself in the zone.

I saw it again on Saturday night. I went to a WHL (hockey) game, Vancouver vs Spokane, and in the opening minutes a Spokane player got my attention. I pointed him out to my buddy and said, ‘that one has talent’. He scored 4 points in the game. He was in the zone.

I think the truly talented players know how to get there at will. I’m not sure if it can be trained into you through hard work, if it is a learned skill, or if it is talent? Does thousands of hours of practice help create this, or do you have to be pre-loaded with a natural ability? What do the best athletes do to put themselves in the zone?

I got this

I was not a swim coach. I coached water polo and I did a level one swim coaching course, and there I was coaching the season’s first swim practice at a high school with over 10 years of back-to-back championships. It was a small 25 yard pool with 5 lanes, including the diving board lane that didn’t have a diving block. 124 students showed up.

It was mayhem. I saw a sea of arms, flailing, splashing, and colliding, despite my instructions to ‘stay right’, and not to flip turn with so many people in each lane. This was crazy, what did I get myself into? I can’t do this!

Then I called for everyone’s attention to begin the practice. I decided to do a few 50’s (two lengths of the pool) so that I could see students do the different strokes. Great in theory, but I quickly discovered that with 25 kids per lane, students couldn’t do a full lap without bumping into the lineup. This was ridiculous. What have I gotten myself into?

I blew my whistle, 4 or 5 loud blasts, and kids stopped and looked up. It got quiet. “Everyone out of the pool and onto the deck in the deep end. Stay in your lane lineups.”

“Ok, here we go. I want you to swim one length, then get out and walk back to your lane. Go 5 seconds apart. You can dive or jump in, your choice. Any questions?”

Now, I had order. But watching these swimmers go by was still overwhelming. That stroke looks good, that one is awful. That student is pulling his hands out too early. This student is doing something wrong, but I don’t know what?

Then it happens. I see a beautiful stroke. Elegant. Fast. The student is passing the the boy in front of her at just past half a length, despite his 5-second lead. At my knowledge base, I have nothing to teach her. But maybe…

As she walks by me I ask her, “do you swim with a club?l

‘Yes.’

“Can you do me a favour?”

‘Yes, sure.’

“Please go over to the other side of the pool and help coach lane 1.”

And so it begins. I find the next good swimmer, ask if they swim club, and ask them to ‘take a lane’ and help.

The practice ends with 7 coaches, including me. I break up the schedule so that I never have to face everyone at once anymore. And I decide that I actually am a swim coach.

I got this.