Why Can’t We Be Friends?
by Steve McGill
So, in late June, my older brother Greg texted me to tell me I needed to watch the ESPN 30 for 30 documentary on the 1996 women’s Olympic basketball team that had just come out. “Those women went through a lot,” he said. So I carved out some time and watched all three parts (each one an hour long) on consecutive nights. The documentary, entitled Dream On, was very inspiring on many levels, yet also very upsetting on many levels. The thing that upset me the most, and that I want to focus on for this article, was how the coach of the team, Tara Vanderveer, treated the players — very much in the “tear you down to build you up” approach to getting the best out of her athletes. Early on in Part One of the documentary, Vanderveer made a comment about how she wasn’t there to be her athletes’ friends, but to be their coach. Which, to her, meant pushing them past their limits and being as hard on them as she felt she needed to be, regardless of their feelings. Hearing her say that upset me because, back when I was a competitive athlete, I hated all aspects of my life whenever I had coaches like, and also because everything she was saying went counter to my own approach to coaching.
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The word “friend,” as it’s applied to coach/athlete relationships, has gotten a bad rap over the years. For a coach to be an athlete’s friend is often equated with being easygoing, easily manipulated, eager to please, eager to be liked, and basically too soft to produce results. Vanderveer led the women’s team to a gold medal, so her methods worked. Plenty of the most legendary coaches of all time throughout the sports world were similarly harsh personalities — Bobby Knight in college basketball, Vince Lombardi in professional football, and Gregg Popovich in professional basketball are three obvious examples of coaches who were/are enormously successful while also being known for often being antagonistic and adversarial toward their players. Almost always, in such cases, the public opinion is that the ends justify the means. If they’re producing champions, then what’s the problem?
But do the ends really justify the means? When I think of the word “friend,” I don’t think of someone who is soft and weak. A friend is someone who cares about you as a person first, and then cares about you as an athlete. A friend is someone who will collaborate with you, who will view the relationship as a partnership, not as a dictatorship. And a friend will let you know when you’re falling short of expectations, when you’re not putting forth the required effort, because a friend ultimately wants to see you succeed. A friend respects your personhood, values you for who you are and not just for what you can accomplish, and will never let you settle for mediocrity, even in a single rep of a single workout.
Of course, watching the documentary led me to reflect on my own coaching methods and my relationships with my athletes over the years. I’ve had a lot of success in my career. Five times I’ve coached an athlete who finished the year ranked as the number one high school hurdler in the country. And they were five different athletes. I’ve coached numerous state champions at the high school level and numerous national champions in youth track. And I would need only one hand to count the number of times I’ve even raised my voice at an athlete. My athletes work hard for me because they know I know what I’m talking about, they know I can help them to get better, and, most importantly, they know I care about them. I absolutely despise the philosophy that, as a coach, you have to berate and intimidate and humiliate your athletes to get the best out of them. No. Just no. Excuse my language, but this shit has got to stop.
I remember one time during a summer track practice about 10-15 years ago, I had a group of about four or five hurdlers with me, working on drills for rhythm and technique. Meanwhile, there was a club lacrosse game taking place on the field, so there was a decent-sized crowd there for the game. Unbeknownst to me — because I was so focused on instructing my athletes — some of the people watching the game were also watching us practice. One parent came by the fence during a down moment in our session and said to me, “Excuse me Coach, I’ve been watching you guys for the last half hour, and I just wanted to tell you that I love the way you coach. You don’t yell and scream. You explain things so that your kids can easily understand. That’s really cool to see.”
Touched by his words, I thanked him and shook his hand. But I couldn’t help but feel surprised that he had felt compelled to reach out to me like that. What was I doing that was so different, so special? Not until later did it dawn on me that most coaches he had observed probably did yell and scream all the time.
To me, it’s all about being a teacher. It’s all about providing instruction. It’s all about “this is what we’re gonna do, this is why we’re gonna do it, and this is how it’s gonna make you faster.” It’s all about “this is what you’re doing wrong, and this is what we’re gonna do to fix it.” It’s never “do this because I said so.” And when you have a bad race, it’s not you had a bad race, it’s we had a bad race. Because we’re in it together, and we have to figure it out together.
During our most recent hurdling academy in late June, I was talking about this topic with my former athlete and current staff member Keare Smith, who is in his early 30’s and ran track at the DI level. I said to Keare that some coaches get into coaching just so they can have control over people. Some coaches are narcissistic tyrants who rule over their athletes with an iron fist, and they enjoy wielding power over their athletes. And they cover up the ugliness of their character by claiming that it’s all in the best interests of the athletes. Keare, who has endured his fair share of tyrannical coaches over the years, acknowledged that there was some truth to my theory.
My whole thing is that athletic participation should be an enjoyable endeavor. As corny as it may sound, sports should be fun. It should be an escape from the troubles of everyday life, not the cause of them. And the fun is in the work. The fun is in the grind. The fun is in being surrounded by people — coaches, teammates, trainers, etc. — who are in it with you. My whole point is, you can have both — you can have a very enjoyable experience and you can have a lot of success. You don’t have to choose one or the other. You can enjoy the journey and reach the destination. That’s been my experience, and that is the line of thinking that will continue to shape the way I interact with my athletes on a daily basis.
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