"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

Coaching Philosophies and Removing Gall Bladders

A very good friend of mine is a highly skilled and respected surgeon. Years ago we played volleyball together and had many hours on long trips to solve most of the world’s problems.  Despite that world peace was in the offing I don’t recall any world leaders asking for our solutions.

At length we discussed personal motivation and values that mold philosophies providing guidance for individuals in their respective professions.

One comment he made has stuck with me through the years.

“I have done several hundred gall bladders”, he said, (I assume he meant cutting them out using acceptable surgical procedures.) “To me, each surgery is one of many.” he continued, “But, for the patient it is the only one.  I never want to take that single gall bladder for granted.”

He explained to me that prior to each surgery he reviews the chapter on “Hacking Out Gall Bladders Correctly” despite having it virtually committed to memory.  His review is basically symbolic but central to his philosophy of treating each patient as an individual.

Coaches work with groups: Teams, tryouts, camps, and clinics.  We look out over a sea of young humanity. At times, it is difficult to see the individuals in the mass, each with her or his personal dreams and goals.  Yet, the coaches’ decisions, mannerisms, voice inflections, facial expressions, and gesticulations can have huge influence on each individual.  Further, one verbal or non-verbal message sent can be received differently by different people.

Coaches have some basic decisions to make regardless of the subject: What is good for the individual and what is good for the team?  Are they compatible? If not, which way to go?

Do our coaching philosophies accommodate the individuals’ growth or just winning? 

Do our coaching philosophies hold up under the pressure of institutional and personal needs to win when a sacrifice of an individual is imminent?  If we don’t have a strong, functional philosophy to guide our decisions, the temptations of the competitive moment can overwhelm an individual’s welfare.

The movie “Hoosiers” is obligatory viewing for any real athletic aficionado.  There is one scene that illustrates the coaching dilemma when the competitive moment runs contrary to philosophy.

The Cinderella team, little Hickory High School, is playing in the Regional finals with the winner advancing to State.  Indiana did not classify schools by student body numbers so that all schools big and small participated in one all-state play-down. Based on a true story out of the early 1950’s it has its Hollywood moments but, if you are a sappy-sucker like me watching these things, the embellishments enhance the story.

Coach Gene Hackman (actually an actor showing great coaching potential) faces an intense situation where one of his key players opens up a previous wound.  Hickory’s bench is pathetically weak.  The time is running down, the crowd screaming, the teams separated by a basket. The player comes to the sideline where the volunteer country doctor looks at the wound.

“Patch him up!”  Coach Hackman demands.

“I can’t!” says the sawbones.

“PATCH HIM UP! ARE YOU OUT OF YOUR MIND?”

The doctor cringes and looks for needle and thread, while Hackman looks at the wound then verbalizes his educated diagnosis:  “You’re fine.  Get back in there.”

The kid eagerly concurs, his pain masked by the adrenaline and intensity of the moment.

Hackman starts to walk away, scratching his head, obviously reconsidering his decision of the moment. He calls a time out, tells the protesting boy to take a seat, and subs in a marginal player.  Relieved, the doctor puts away his sewing kit.

The coach’s philosophy kicks in to make a sound judgment for the player’s welfare.  Tough call.  The good news in this scenario is that Ollie, viewed as the team mascot and last option, goes in and, in the waning seconds, drops in two free throws to win.

 He probably had some help from Hollywood.

Each coach must decide in a reflective, non-competitive, moment, on a philosophy he or she can live with even in the direst circumstances. Is your philosophy compatible with institutional administrators’ and the community’s expectations?  We are never tested in theory discussions.  The real test of our coaching philosophy comes when program results are on the line.  How does yours hold up?

Think about it: If you are having a gall bladder or some other organ removed you want a surgeon who is guided by a sound philosophy.  Don’t you?

Bill Neville

CHILLY HILLY

Twenty years ago my older brother signed us up to pedal in what is considered by the bicycling community as one of the best organized rides in the known universe, the Chilly Hilly. On the day before the event we went to the pre-ride convention and bicycle-stuff swap.  We sauntered about looking at new technology, drooling over ultra lightweight equipment that, at least, would lighten the pocketbook. We watched in awe as expert mountain bikers jumped their two-wheelers over a pile of logs, a picnic table, and a few people. There were thousands of bicycle enthusiasts anticipating the opening event of the season.

I can recall the day being spectacular, warm for a February 23rd; not a cloud in the sky, the surrounding bodies of water sparkling with the snow covered Cascades and Olympics shouldering up on the horizons.  After spending the day cruising around we drove back to my house.  The first thing I saw was my very pregnant wife talking with an old friend who just arrived.  They weren’t chuckling it up, rather talking with animated concern. 

“What’s up?”  Asks I.

“My water broke.  We need to get to the hospital”, answers my wife.

“No way!” I respond with sensitivity.  After all, due date was 5 and1/2 weeks away.

“Are you kidding?” (This was harder to say as my foot got deeper down my throat.)

“See you tomorrow morning?”  My brother, whose mind was still on the ride, said, indicating that our sensitivity, was inherited.

That night my son, Ramsey was born.  Barbara, my wife took no pain-masking drugs, immediately terminating any possible future sympathy I might have shown for previous paper cuts. My brother called, briefly asked about his new nephew and then asked what time we should meet for the 33-mile ride.

“Uh. . . I don’t think it would be a good idea if I rode tomorrow.” I whispered, demonstrating that I was learning about being more sensitive.

“Ahh. . .You would be back before they even wake up,” He responds.  I stuck to my guns; he went on the ride, and, in fact, got to the hospital just a few minutes after mother and son woke up.  Fortunately, I was actually there when their eyes opened.

That leads in to this: Barb, Ramsey, and I finally rode the Chilly Hilly on Sunday after the boy interrupted the ride 12 years ago.

Like the day he was born the weather was spectacular.  The ride takes place on Bainbridge Island, a 35 minute ferry boat voyage across Puget Sound from downtown Seattle.  The island is the focal point for the book and movie Snow Falling on Cedars, a story about the many Japanese immigrants that farmed on the island and then lost their land and hope when they were interned during World War II.

4000 cyclists of all ages, sizes, and shapes, riding all manners of two-wheeled technology crammed the early morning boats.  The bright sun, reflecting off the Olympic Mountains to the west and the Cascades and Seattle skyline to the east accentuated the traditional colors of the Northwest of aqua blue and forest green.  But, in February the Sun provides little heat.  Hence: The “Chilly” in the name. 

In a few minutes we discovered the origins of the “Hilly”.  Oh. Baby.  My son kept asking how Lance Armstrong would do.  “He would scoff at this.” I gasped.  I knew this since at least 2000 colorfully lycra-clad, svelte, longlegged, riders and 100 obese, centenarian ladies passed me. 

We toured among the evergreens, the undulating road dappled with sunlight.  We exchanged greetings with people as they ripped by.  Occasionally, we passed folks, using the tortoise and hare philosophy.

Besides a great ride, the feeling of being part of a common event involving a wide variety of people, engaging in a healthy, positive experience is exhilarating.  It is another item in a long list of what is good about life.  It was a special birthday riding along talking about everything from Lance Armstrong to the history of the island and cramping, screaming, thighs.

Yes, the quads can speak. 

Their vocabulary is limited but the message was clear: “Stop! You moron!  If you don’t we WILL put an excruciating expression on your face!”  They did. And then I stopped.

I walked around for a few minutes like a penguin until my quads only whispered.

Cresting yet another long hill that featured stunning views of the water and mountains, a race volunteer provided motivating words,

“Only six miles to go!  Steep downhill! Big curve! Then! Just two more hills and you are done!”

If my Quads weren’t sniveling I think I would have dismounted and belted him.  Ramsey was too far ahead to get him to stop and spin a few Tai Kwon Do kicks at the volunteer who got to the top of that hill via car. (I saw it parked behind some trees.)

I caught up with Rams because I can roll faster down hill than he can.  We rode to the finish together as the sun was hovering above the Olympic Mountains. 

Barbara?  At one of the refreshment stops she took a certified shortcut back still pedaling 20 miles.  When we rolled in she was reclining in the sun reading her book.

We were tired in a relaxing, satisfied sort of way joining thousands of our fellow citizens in an unspoken camaraderie. 

Some of these things keep getting a little more difficult with the recovery taking a touch longer.  But, they will have to take me out on a litter before I stop challenging myself to do just a little bit more while enjoying these adventures with my family. 

Have a great week!

  

“But I Already Know That!"

A few years ago I worked with Karch Kiraly on a summer camp program for junior girls.  Our staff included Angela Rock, Steve Timmons, Mike Dodd, and Eric Sato.  All of these players – now coaches- were the staff.

On the first day we covered the fundamentals, teaching through various activities with the focus on reinforcing correct execution.  That evening we heard that one of campers called her dad and told him that she already knew the things we were teach and was expecting to learn “advanced” skills.  Karch and the others were shocked.  They wondered if we were teaching the correct things. I assured them we were.  The next morning at the first camp gathering I reviewed what Karch had done in his illustrious career. (Voted as the greatest volleyball player in the world in the first 100 years.  This vote was by the International volleyball Federation – not some trumped up marketing scheme.)  He is known for his incredible ball handling skills and focused play. He had no idea where I was going with this.

After reviewing his accolades for the girls I asked him, “After all of the time you have trained and played, have you mastered the basic skills?”  As he always does, he seriously considered the question.  He slowly shook his head and said, “Nope.  I never have.” 

“WHAT?” says I, dramatically incredulous, “How can that be? You are the greatest player ever!  I am completely disappointed.  And this early in the morning, too!  Because one of the girls here told her Dad that she already knew the skills we taught yesterday. Karch, I am stunned. Throughout your 24 year career you practiced the fundamental skills EVERYDAY?  Just like we did in camp yesterday?”

Karch nodded and said quietly and seriously, “Yup. Every day.

Point made.  Point taken.

Occasionally we will have parents or players ask if the next session a will be the same as the last.  The answer is yes and no.  To get better the players must do many contacts with good feedback.  To stand the trial of time any great building must be built on a strong foundation.  So it is with volleyball.  The precise, consistent fundamentals are the foundation of great volleyball for both players and teams.  So the “yes” part is that we hammer home the correct techniques and ways to practice them daily.  Every contact matters.

The “no” is that we change up the activities in each session to have the players practice applying the skills to the unique situations that randomly pop up in volleyball.  Also, we increase the complexity and performance standards of the activities based on the improvement of the players.  We try to make the learning process enjoyable and rewarding.  We want the players to love the game.  However, there is no getting around the quality repetitions one must execute to get good.

 There are several studies done that to perfect any skill takes 10,000 hours of mindful, consistent practice.  It requires a lot to be good.  It takes a lot more to be great.

We do our best to give the most efficient and effective instruction as possible. 

When the groups are formed we don’t know the makeup of the skill level despite describing what we do.

I have the attitude that every situation is an opportunity to learn; to get better.  No team or group as the exact level of playing competency.  When a player goes to their high school team there will be players who are better and those who are worse.  There will be players with great attitudes and those with questionable ones. 

We often hear, “My daughter needs to play up so she gets more challenged.”  Does that mean that the players who are already “up” are now going to play down?  They need fewer challenges?  It is the same with the playing time issue that crops up in every team.  “My daughter needs more playing time.”  If that happens, of course, another player is going to get less.  There are always two sides to these issues.  There is a challenge and opportunity in every situation.  If a player is better than those around her then her challenge is to elevate the play of those players.  If a player is not as good as others it is an opportunity to demonstrate her willingness to get better with great effort thus elevating the play of those around her. 

I have had the honor and opportunity to coach both men and women at the Olympic level many of whom have won Gold Medals, and I have coached 12 – 13 year old girls.  With the world class players there is one constant:  they play to the situation in which they find themselves.  They do not wish they were in a better situation.  They make the situation they are in better.  They elevate the play of those around them.  They do not snivel about playing time.  They assess where they are and figure out how they can earn it and make their team better. 

We do our best to match up skill levels.  But because of schedule conflicts and individual assessments of their own abilities it is difficult to do.  However, there are always opportunities for the players at every level to get better.

As one might imagine I have little sympathy for anyone who says “I have already learned that” or “I need a greater challenge.” The lessons may differ but if one has an attitude of learning, the learning never stops.