"WATCH THE PUCK!"

My oldest child is my only daughter.  She has to do a maximum jump to be 5 foot tall.  She has two children of her own and, if I allow myself some bragging rights, she is an outstanding mother with great kids and a very supportive husband.  For several years she was the jail keep at the Gallatin, Montana Sheriffs’ Department hoosegow in Bozeman. As one of her duties she taught self defense to the sheriffs.  She also worked for an assisted living / nursing home primarily working with the clients’ nutritional needs – all this while working on her degree in Food, Nutrition, and Dietetics at Montana State University.  (She gets her well deserved degree in May, 2011 after completing her internship at a VA hospital in West Virginia.) 

She also has been a volleyball referee and is currently an ice hockey referee, where she rules over everything from little midgets to men’s club and women’s collegiate.  Yeah, I am extraordinarily proud of her.

So that provides background for this story she tells that has meaning for any coach, teacher, parent, or anyone.

* * *

It was an intense game.  At least as intense as a hockey game played by 6 and 7 year olds can get.  The players, look like munchkin toys with little stubs of legs featuring barely visible skates at the bottom.  Hip pads end just short of the armpits.  The oversized hockey gloves end near the elbows which are hidden under a huge jersey that fits like a tent.  It is all topped off with a helmet and face cage completely eliminating any chance of actually recognizing who is inside the armament.  The whole package remains upright because of the tripod design: two skates and a hockey stick that appears to be glued to the big gloves and rested on the ice.  The little skates start shuffling and the package moves.  The observer holds his breath convinced if the munchkin goes down it will look similar to a turtle on its back.

Back to the game.  At one end of the rink there is a scramble for the puck.  A few turtles are on their backs.  Finally a player from the defense comes out with the puck.  In fast slow motion he? she? begins the long break away with the remaining vertical players in tepid pursuit.  The goalie must face this oncoming juggernaut. Now, a hockey goalie’s regalia makes the other players uniforms look like Lycra single piece track suits. They are a pile of pads planted in the goal mouth.

My daughter was doing solo duty as the referee and next to the boards on the lone goalie’s side of the ice.  Behind her the goalie’s coach was frantic as the breakaway was closing.  “WATCH THE PUCK!  WATCH THE PUCK!” , he pleaded.  The goalie was splayed legged leaning forward being held up by the extra wide-footed goalie stick, focusing on the closing opponent’s forward. As the puck handler drew back her? his? Stick preparing for a slap shot desperately trying to stay balanced, the coach kept bellowing, “WATCH -  the -  PUCK!” 

The “slap shot” was launched.  As it drifted towards the goal the goalie remained stationary with only his? Her? eyes moving watching as the puck slid between her? his? legs into the net.  “AWWWW!! GEEEZZZ!”, the coach wailed.

My daughter who was looking at the slow developing play chuckled and said over her shoulder to the coach, “She did exactly what you told her to do:  She watched the puck. All the way. “  (Somehow she knew the goalie was a girl.)

The coach shrugged, raised his eyebrows, and quietly agreed. 

* * *

Words have Meaning

All that to say this:  Words have meaning.  As coaches we must be aware of what we say and how we say it.

Players need to know this as well.  How many times will a hitter say to the setter, “Right here!”  Ever wonder where “here” is?  There is a cute, memorable key for passing that states, “Left is right. Right is wrong.”  With out question it is a very clever turn of a phrase.  However, recently in our gym a girl was passing the right side of the court.  The incoming serve went to her right between her and the line.  When she noticed this she relaxed and stood up as the ball sailed on by.  I stammered, “Uh. . . Wha? Why didn’t you attempt. . .?” 

She answered with confidence:  “Left is right and right is wrong.  The ball was to my right so it wasn’t mine.”  I looked around for anyone else who might of played it and there wasn’t anyone.  I know what the key means.  But   a young player took it literally. 

After several missed serves or in a critical serving situation we  (coaches, parents, teammates ) have all begged the next server, “Just get it in!”  The delivery inflection of this message can communicate many things:  A threat. “Just get it in!” (Or else! You will spend the rest of your career on the bench;  Don’t even THINK we will stop at Dairy Queen after the match if you miss!;  None of your teammates will EVER speak to you again!)  Why don’t we say with firm confidence and support, “Serve your best serve!”  Aren’t most players’ best serve “in”?

The way words are used is important as well.  Excited players living the moment will call for the ball in machine gun fashion:  “Hutututhutuhtuhutut. . .”;  “Gogogogogogogooo. . .!”;  “Mineminminminmin. . .!”;  “Yesyesyesyesyes. . .! “  When uttered collectively, especially in an audible offensive system, the setter can think they are under a full assault and hear, “Hutuhutgogogogommininyesssyesssss ….!  It would be more efficient to have players make one guttural, crisp, one syllable, command:  “HUT!; MINE!; GO!; YES!  Easily said.  Easily heard.

Practice efficient communication.  Otherwise, at some critical point, your players will . . .

“WATCH THE PUCK!” 

Cherish Every Moment

Consider this: One year represents 50% of a two-year-old toddler’s life time, but only 1.25% of an 80-year-old’s.  Therefore, the length of each hour, day, week, or month seems much longer to the toddler than to the octogenarian.  It is all relative.  And, relatively speaking, the older one gets the faster time rips along.

Another consideration: One never gets any moment back.  When it’s gone, its history.  Kids think they will live forever.  When one is young, there is always tomorrow.  They will always be young.

The point is this: take advantage of every moment you have.  You are young once, and believe me, it is fleeting.  Never take health for granted.

In sports an athlete has the opportunity to experience some of life’s greatest situations.  There are thrilling moments, dull ones, happy and sad times, pain and laughter.  Practices sometimes seem endless.  There is team conflict.  Grumpy coaches.

 One cannot put today in a savings bank to be used later.

No matter what the situation, make the best of it; because you only get one crack at it, then it is gone.

Everyone, in any situation, has choices.  Each person can control his or her attitude in any challenge. There is wisdom, knowledge and learning to be had all of the time.  Enter every situation with an attitude that allows for a positive result in your development even though the experience will occasionally cause anguish.  Don’t waste a moment being an attitudinal wimp.

I can think of many exceptional examples of people I have known who have shown extraordinary courage exhibited and fueled by a positive attitude.  A great example is the late Kirk Kilgore who passed away a few years ago. 

Kirk was a big, blond, left-hander, who was an All-American at UCLA.  He brought serious flame from the right-side and is the arguably the greatest southpaw to play in the USA.  He was instrumental in the USA Men’s upset of Cuba in the 1973 NORCECA Zone Championships qualifying the Americans for the prestigious World Cup. 

After his National Team stint he played professionally in the Italian League.

He was in his prime and one of the most dominating attackers on the planet.

At practice one day, the intense defensive drill required diving to play a distant ball.  His hands were sweaty.  As everyone came to expect, Kirk gave maximum effort to retrieve the ball.  His hands slipped on the floor.  His chin made heavy contact with the surface.  Many players have experienced the same thing, bruising or cutting their chin or mouth.  But this time, Kirk’s neck snapped causing severe spinal cord damage.  In a millisecond,

this talented athlete was a quadriplegic.  A doctor quietly told me he would be lucky to live five years.

With his life confined to a wheel chair where he controlled it with his mouth and chin, did Kirk wimp out?  No. He carried the same aggressive, positive attitude into his new challenge.  He became an excellent announcer.  He coached.  He gave motivational talks. 

Once, in San Diego when I was coaching the USA team Kirk came by practice.  My older children who, at the time were 8 and 10 years of age were with me.  I took them over and introduced them to Kirk, explaining that I had the opportunity to coach him a few years earlier.

They had never talked with anyone in a wheel chair who couldn’t move.  Kirk was sensitive to their hesitation; asked me if it was okay to talk with them for awhile.  While I went back to practice he talked with them, encouraged seemingly uncomfortable questions, and provided one of the outstanding educational, inspirational moments my kids experienced. 

They talked of that encounter for years. 

Kirk made a great life under dire circumstances.  It was tough, well beyond what most of us have had to endure. The lingering inspiration that he left behind with those who knew him defines the powerful person he was.

Relish every situation.  Every opportunity.  Every challenge.  Live them to the maximum.

Have a great week.

How’s Your Gizzard?

This may be somewhat of a departure from a coaching or sports theme but, as I think about it, nah, not really.  Of course, I can relate anything to the lessons of sports.  I don’t want this to be a piece of moribund reflection but rather a recollection of some of those snippets of personal history that everyone has from time to time. Recall examples of statements, inflections, gestures, or facial expressions that stick in your brain and trigger some small meaningful memory. 

Like the time when you were 10 years old and told your mom a dirty joke you had heard having no idea why it was funny.  All you knew was that people laughed.  When you repeated it with enthusiasm to your mom she didn’t laugh.  In fact, she furrowed her brow and asked where you heard it and told you never to repeat it.  You didn’t understand why for another 4 years and then cringe every time you recall your mom’s look and warning.

You remember shaking hands with a friend of your Dad and he turned to your father and said, “I am impressed! He has a firm handshake, looks you in the eye and is polite!”

You recall the great reinforcing feeling of lessons your parents taught and knew from then on you would always greet people that way.

There are countless little recollections that contribute to the shaping of attitudes and behaviors.  Coaches provide many of these snippets to their athletes.  It comes to light when you meet a former player and they ask, “Do you remember when you told me. . .”

And you politely acknowledge the recollection actually not remembering anything about it.  It can be unnerving for a coach to discover how seemingly innocent verbal exchanges, inflections, and expressions or the lack thereof, can permanently influence a young player.

So what has that got to do with “How’s Your Gizzard?”  Sounds like the name of a Thoroughbred race horse: Howzyourgizzard.  (“…And at the top of the turn Monday Monday leads by a length, Gonzalez goes to the whip swinging Say it Again outside as Howzyourgizzard is closing charging along the rail. . .”) It was the common greeting of my childhood neighbor, Paul DeFaccio.  I have never heard it uttered by any other human being.

Ever look up the word gizzard? No?  (1) Also called ventriculus (“How’s your ventriculus?” Nah.) the thick-walled muscular lower stomach of many birds and reptiles that grinds partially digested food, often with the aid of ingested gravel.

Since I was old enough to understand the concept of words, I thought it was a standard greeting.  For many years my older brother, Ken, assumed that we had gizzards and should have known whether they were good or not.

Paul DeFaccio was the patriarch of our neighbors.  His youngest son of three boys is my age and a life long friend.  When Paul passed away he was well into his nineties.  He lived a satisfying life raising his family, establishing a very successful family business, and positively influencing the neighbor kids with his infectious enthusiasm, story telling ability, incredible work ethic, and the ever present “How’s your gizzard?” greeting that made a little boy always feel welcome and liked. 

That three-word question has always been a subject of affection and positive memories for my brother and younger sister. It is one of those recollection snippets that influenced us all of our lives. 

It represents caring, friendliness, a zest for life both in work and play.  The last time I saw him I think he was 89. I wanted my wife and young son to meet him.  I asked his partner and wife, Pearl, where he was.  She chuckled, “Oh, you know where he is. He is up on the hill pulling blackberries and cleaning out brush.”  Sure enough there he was: shirtless, in shorts, gloves on, holding a four-prong rake. His dark brown hair, now gray and thin. But as frisky as ever, the same articulate, clipped voice. A big smile.

“How’s Your Gizzard?” He asked all three of us. 

“It’s great,” we responded with the only acceptable answer.

It was the last time I saw Paul and I am sure he never really knew how much he meant to the three Neville neighbors. Maybe he did.  I hope so.  I wish I had told him. I am happy that my own family had the opportunity to meet him.

Never take for granted how much influence you are capable of having in what seemingly is the most casual of circumstances.  Time passes very quickly.  Always take the time to say “thanks” to those who mean so much. 

Paul DeFaccio.  He was the best neighbor.  And his gizzard was always great.

Bill Neville