Friday 18 December 2020

A Coaching Story

Snakey, Shipwreck and Bilateral Breathing

A recent conversation got me thinking of the lasting impact that those individuals senior to us can have in our formative years. I'm talking about a positive effect, of course. Bemoaning the "bulking up" of teenage rugby players and the pressure and negative effects thereof, the said individual and myself wondered about the sporting direction and longevity many of these young guys would have post-high school. Would they even remain active? Let's face it, few school leavers carry on playing rugby or even cricket upon graduation. On the flip side, we are now seeing quite a surge in mass participation sports like triathlon, road running and mountain biking among thirtysomethings and upwards, a large part of that being in the ultra-distance realm. And not always in a healthy manner. But that is a separate discussion.

Growing up and attending a public school system that had a heavy emphasis on traditional team sports like cricket and rugby, I was fortunate enough to be in the class of a teacher who was passionate about endurance sport. Bearing in mind that we are talking about a time of around 1988, sports like triathlon and road cycling were considered more niche than commonplace. Oh how the times have changed! Anyway, the teacher in question, while a handy triathlete himself, was one of those rare individuals that had an eye for identifying talent and recognising enthusiasm. He also had the sheer ability to nurture and encourage those traits.

Coaches by and large are there to inspire motivated individuals, in my mind at least. And this guy fit this description to a tee. It seemed that teaching and coaching were more of an extension of his lifestyle than just a job, especially considering that teaching was - and still is - not a well-paying job and there was no such thing as a coaching industry in the 1980s. A husband with a young family, he would cleverly incorporate his training into his school coaching. For instance, every Monday and Wednesday after school would see him and few of us youngsters set off on a 5km run around the local neighbourhood. Conversation would focus on running form and gait, feeling light on our feet and picking up the pace in the second half being standard fare. After a few minutes of stretching exercises against the stands, it was straight into the pool for swimming practice that he would instruct. Focus on long strokes, high elbows and bilateral breathing, he would say, as we would negotiate "Snakey". This would entail swimming eight laps of the eight lane short course school pool, each ensuing lap being in the next lane as we "snaked" our way to the end of the last lane. We would hop out, jog around the pool and repeat the process a few times before doing some drills and sprints. Or weekly physical education class, where fun and fitness (his coinage) were paramount, so much so that "Shipwreck" (an obstacle course) was set up in the school hall to test our agility ("phys-ed is more than just swinging your arms around gentlemen!").

And he wasn't afraid to expand his own knowledge and skill set either. Already moonlighting as a part-time swimming coach, he would attend the school swimming practices instructed by a world class Hungarian swimmer. What can the kids get out of a half-hour swimming class, he would often ask the recent exile of the Eastern Bloc as us primary school swimmers went about our pre-workout shoulder mobility exercises. Then there was the time when our school converted to soccer from the traditional winter sport of rugby. While the establishment were understandably horrified at the prospect of the "World Game'' being played on their hallowed turf, this teacher and one of his rugby passionate colleagues attended a weeklong course in soccer coaching just to make sure they had a proper understanding of this foreign sport. I could go on and on with many more stories but let's just say that this guy was totally immersed in his coaching craft.

Fast forward to the present and it was just the other day that I was perusing an old athletics magazine. One article detailed the comeback of a past superstar after a long injury-induced layoff. It detailed how he wanted one last hurrah before imminent retirement to start a family and the next phase of his life. The athlete in question went on to explain how he had always been a student of sport from a young age, learning from the coaches of his youth and really following instructions.

I smiled when I read these words; it was as if my primary school teacher was talking to me. It's been over three decades since those afternoon sessions and I'm still running most days and doing calisthenics too. While my personal competitive zeal ebbs and flows, my sheer love of such a simple athletic activity remains constant. Always an athlete, I guess.