The Coach/Athlete Relationship
Often it seems that the quality of one’s life comes down to the quality of one’s relationships. We are most deeply affected by the people whom we most deeply affect. Our sense of self and of our place in the world is largely shaped by the influence of others – our parents, siblings, extended family members, friends, teachers, and the larger nebulous “society” that shapes our cultural identity on a daily basis. This article will focus on what I consider to be the most sacred of relationships – that between a coach and an athlete, with a particular emphasis on the relationship between a hurdler and a hurdle coach.
An athlete’s relationship with his or her coach is sometimes the most important relationship in his or her life. That is because a coach’s role in an athlete’s life is so unique, and so multi-faceted. A coach often serves as a parental figure, a guidance counselor, a role model, a mentor, and a teacher all rolled into one. Between practices, meets, traveling to meets, staying in hotels for extended competitions, team dinners, and other team functions, you might spend more time with your coach than with any other adult in your life.
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In many cases, if the athlete is having issues at home or in the classroom or in the social sphere, the coach is the first person he or she will turn to for support and advice. Throughout the course of a season, your coach will see you at your best, at your worst, and everywhere in between. Your coach comes to know your personality and sense of humor, adapts to your mood swings, can tell when you’re being dishonest, can tell when you’re ready to perform at your best, knows how to confront you without embarrassing you, knows how to make you feel valued without making you feel that you’re more valued than anyone else.
As a result, your coach may be able to see qualities of your character that even your own parents cannot see. And your coach may be the only person capable of bringing out those qualities, of helping you to realize your potential both as an athlete and as a human being.
No matter what sport you play, the coach is the person through whom you experience the sport. If you play basketball and you don’t like your coach, you don’t like playing basketball. If you play soccer and you don’t like your coach, you don’t like playing soccer. If you run the hurdles and you don’t like your coach, you don’t like running the hurdles. That’s pretty much how it works, regardless of the level of competition.
For a beginner-level hurdler, a good working relationship with one’s coach is essential, as it is borderline impossible to learn how to hurdle efficiently on one’s own. For the beginner, the coach’s role is two-fold: that of the authority figure, and that of the teacher.
The Authority Figure
For the beginner hurdler, starting out in this event is like entering into a wilderness. Running and sprinting are so simple but hurdling is so complex. There’s so much to think about that it’s easy to feel overwhelmed, grow quickly frustrated, or to quit altogether. So the coach must be the person who brings a sense of order to this chaos. Also, because the beginner is often immature when it comes to work ethic, the coach must be the person who sets the tone in terms of expectations. Overall, the coach of the beginner must be very hands-on.
I don’t coach beginners in the same manner in which I coach more experienced hurdlers. My natural personality is to be observant and communicative without trying to be too willful or dictatorial. But with beginners I’m different, because I have to be. In running workouts, I’ll let them know exactly what the workout is, exactly how many reps they need to do, exactly how fast their reps need to be, and exactly how much recovery they get between reps. In hurdle workouts, I’ll be very specific about what I want to get accomplished that day, and I’ll be very particular about making sure they do all their sprint drills and hurdle drills properly. Basically, I try to establish the work habits and technical consistency that I want to become routine as they progress.
I have found that most beginners will try to cut corners wherever you allow them too. That’s why a coach can’t take slacking personally, and they can’t summarily dismiss certain athletes as being too lazy. As a coaching colleague of mine once said to me, part of our job as high school coaches is to teach young athletes work ethic; we can’t expect them to just walk on the track with it. The hurdles in particular require an even higher standard of work ethic because of all the technical demands. I am routinely spending anywhere from twenty minutes to an hour after practice working with hurdlers on technical details. My experience overall has been, once athletes know what the expectations are, they either step up to them or they fall off by the wayside. As I often tell my athletes, “Not everybody is a hurdler. Not everybody is willing to do what hurdlers do.”
The Teacher
If the coach of the beginning hurdler is a strict authority figure but does not teach, he or she will soon lose credibility. You can yell and stomp and blow your whistle and roar into your bullhorn all you want, but if hurdlers’ times aren’t dropping and their confidence isn’t rising they’ll start tuning you out quickly. You have to teach, and you have to know what you’re talking about. And if you run into technical dilemmas that leave you baffled, don’t front like you know. Do your own studying, researching, and experimenting in search of possible solutions. Pick the brains of other coaches.
A coach of beginning hurdlers needs to know the basics of technique, and how to teach the basics of technique – lead with the knee, run on the balls of the feet, lean from the waist, bring the trail leg around high and tight. Most college coaches prefer finished products when it comes to hurdlers’ technique. They’d rather not spend a lot of time correcting technical flaws; they prefer to work on getting athletes faster and stronger. So if hurdlers don’t establish sound fundamentals of technique as youth athletes or high school athletes, they might carry their technical flaws into the latter stages of their careers.
So the practice track in that sense serves as a classroom. The coach is the teacher, the athlete is the student. The athlete’s mind must be fully engaged while doing rudimentary drills that aren’t physically taxing but that require much mental focus in order to execute them correctly. To me, being a good student is an integral aspect of having a solid work ethic that leads to success as a hurdler. The coach/hurdler relationship must be a teacher/student relationship if it is to evolve into the type of partnership that enables a hurdler to reach the heights of his or her potential.
The Guide
Once the coach has established his or her authority and has earned the hurdlers’ trust as someone qualified to teach the event, now the coach can allow the athletes to see his or her sense of humor, can share personal stories that provide the athletes with some old-school wisdom, and can generally allow the athletes to see him or her as a human being instead of as just a coach.
In practice, the relationship becomes more symbiotic, less dictatorial. The coach empowers the athletes to take ownership of their own development. The coach offers “deals” in running workouts and seeks more athlete input in hurdling workouts.
Let me give you an example of what I mean when I’m talking about offering deals. Let’s say the workout is to run 6×200 in 28 seconds. The athletes hit the first four in 28, and they have two left. It’s a nice day outside and I want to see what they have left in the tank. So I’ll say, “If you hit the next one in 26, you’re done.” This type of deal gives them motivation to push a little harder and to dig a little deeper. Something valuable is at stake, so it puts them in that race mentality, in that do-or-do-not-there-is-no-try mentality. It also informs them that I do appreciate the hard work they’ve been putting in, or else I wouldn’t be offering any deals.
I only offer such deals to more mature athletes because they get the point of me making them. Less mature athletes are always looking for ways to get out of hard work. So if you offer them a deal once, they’re looking for you to throw them a bone every day, which can become a distraction. But the more advanced athletes need such challenges, such breaks in the monotony, to avoid becoming complacent and to stay mentally sharp.
Hurdle workouts at this stage take on a much different tone from that of the beginner level hurdler. By this point, the basics of hurdling mechanics have been ingrained, the hurdler has developed a feel for how to correct flaws and mistakes, and can therefore be given more autonomy. Instead of being a teacher, a knowledge-bearer passing on information, the coach is now more of a guide. The training wheels are off, so to speak, and the athlete must learn to ride the bike on his or her own. Instead of solely trusting the coach’s instructions, the athlete must learn to trust his or her body.
Between reps, instead of telling the athlete what he or she did wrong, I’ll ask a question that challenges the athlete to figure it out for him or herself. Something like, “Your trail leg was a lot tighter over hurdle three than it was over the first two. Do you know what you did differently?” Or before offering any input, I’ll ask what that rep felt like. For the coach, to guide in this manner is very important if the hurdler is to ever master the art of hurdling. The athlete must learn to listen to his or her own body, to feed off of its cues, to make corrections instantaneously on the fly in the heat of the battle. This is a skill that can only be developed if the coach speaks less, listens more, and gives the athlete freedom to learn from his or her mistakes.
By guiding the athletes to coach themselves, to trust their own instincts, the coach is allowing the relationship to develop into one in which the coach and athlete are of one mind. A mistake a lot of coaches make is that of behaving in a very authoritative manner toward athletes who have outgrown the need for such a coach. The athlete will feel disrespected, suppressed, and will eventually rebel.
The Co-Traveler
At this stage, the relationship becomes a partnership. Rarely does the relationship between a coach and a hurdler reach this level, but when it does, it is a magical thing. It requires they type of athlete who is extraordinarily gifted, who’s hurdling IQ is very high, and whose motivations are largely intrinsic. And it requires a coach who is free of ego, who doesn’t need to be the one in charge. To paraphrase Lao Tzu, the individual with the most power is not he who has the most power, but he who needs no power at all. The coach who is a co-traveler needs no power. This coach has earned the trust and respect of his or her athletes simply by being a genuine human being. The athletes have an abundance of self-confidence that comes from knowing their coach is fully confident in them.
At this stage, not only does the athlete have input on workouts, but his or her input is essential. What happens is, the athlete reaches a level of ability where the coach can no longer teach him or her how to deal with the types of issues he or she will face in a race.
My personal best over the 39’s in high school was a hand-timed 14.9. My best over the 42’s in college was 15.63. My best 300 hurdle time in high school was a hand-timed 41.5. My best 400 hurdle time in college was a hand-timed 58.0. That’s why, when I initially got into coaching, I felt comfortable at the high school level, at a school that didn’t take track too seriously. I didn’t consider myself qualified to coach hurdlers who could run in the low-14’s or faster. But I couldn’t have been more wrong. What I later came to discover was, when it comes to coaching the advanced level hurdlers, it’s not how much you know that matters most, but how much you’re willing to grow. And how much you’re willing to let go.
When I think of the hurdlers I’ve coached who have run sub-14, one theme remains constant: I learned as much from them as they learned from me. We explored the unknown together. We studied, read, and experimented together.
One summer I was coaching three sub-14 hurdlers at the same time – Johnny Dutch, Booker Nunley, and Wayne Davis. Every practice session was filled with new discoveries. These guys were coming to each practice armed with new ideas and insightful questions. I would be having a one-on-one discussion with Johnny and next thing I know Booker and Wayne are gathering around, listening in. Wayne – the most uninhibited of the group when it came to trying new ideas – would literally create new drills on the spot, during warm-ups.
One time, just messing around before practice, he walked up to a 42-inch hurdle and jumped over it with perfect form, as effortlessly as if he were jumping over a book bag. And he wasn’t even a full 5-10 yet. After picking up my jaw from the ground, I said, “That’s a drill,” and we created a new drill from it to work on exploding into hurdling position without relying on speed.
I don’t think we ever did a workout from beginning to end the way I originally designed it. I was always making adaptations to fit each athlete’s specific needs. With Booker at 6-2 and Johnny at 5-11, they all had different needs, different issues.
So, instead of a classroom, the practice track was like a science lab where we tried out all our new ideas and inspirations. Sometimes we’d start with a drill, and the drill would become the workout. We’d increase the spacing with each rep, and before I knew it the guys were doing full-speed reps over race-height hurdles, but in their minds they were still doing a drill. I would be making adjustments from rep to rep. I can’t begin to explain how thrilling it was to not know what I was doing, to be in such a creatively stimulating environment.
The most remarkable thing about athletes at that level is not how fast they are, but how intelligent they are. Back in 2000 when I was coaching Cameron Akers – the first hurdler I ever coached whose personal best would’ve blasted my own – I was constantly amazed at how quickly he could apply an instruction I had given. If I told him the elbow of his lead arm was too high, it would be lower the very next rep. He could finish a race and tell me about a specific technical mistake he made at hurdle six. I’d be like, “How do you remember that?” This high intelligence level is the main reason that a coach has to play the role of co-traveler with such athletes.
The Friend
The time that a coach and athlete spend together is short, no matter how long it is. Even in professional team sports, rare is the coach/athlete combo that lasts more than a decade. Bill Bellicheck and Tom Brady of the New England Patriots come to mind. The John Stockton, Karl Malone, Phil Sloan combo of the Utah Jazz is another one. In track, professionals are hopping from coach to coach all the time, either because they’re seeking the optimal training environment, or because their contracts require them to do so. Hurdle-wise, thinking off the top of my head, Malcolm Arnold and Colin Jackson were together for a long time. Brooks Johnson and David Oliver have been together for a while now. And there are plenty of other examples.
At the high school and collegiate levels, four years together is the most you can hope for, except for the collegiate athlete who continues to train with his or her college coach after turning pro. And there are also cases where a youth coach continues to coach an athlete into his or her high school years.
But my point is, when it’s over, it’s over. But when the time spent together on the track comes to an end, that’s when the real coach/athlete relationship, with all its depth and splendor, begins. That’s when the coach becomes a friend. Or should I say, Friend. Not merely someone to hang out with. Not a pal, not a buddy, not a homey. But a Friend in whom you can confide, who can help you navigate the troubled waters of adulthood. You invite your coach to your wedding. Your coach is one of the first people you tell when your first child is born. Your coach attends the funerals of your family members. Even if you no longer keep in touch with your coach on a regular basis, you find yourself thinking about him or her all the time, looking at life through coach-colored lenses. You repeat his or her quotes, you give others advice that he or she once gave you. You realize that when your coach was teaching you about hurdles, he or she was really teaching you about life. You realize that it was never just about the hurdles even when it was all about the hurdles. You realize, as David Payne said in the featured profile from last month’s issue, that “you can’t separate hurdles from life.” They’re one and the same.
You realize that at all of the other levels – authority figure, teacher, guide, co-traveler – your coach was being your Friend. You just couldn’t see it yet.
When I reflect back on my own high school years, I recall that my head coach, Mr. McAlpin, and his assistant, Mr. Keeley, didn’t really teach me all that much about hurdling technique. I learned to lead with the knee and to sprint hard between the hurdles, but not much more than that. I had a lazy trail leg that I never seriously addressed until the 42’s in college forced me to. But I also recall that when I was stricken with a rare, life-threatening blood disease in November of my senior year, my coaches visited me in the hospital regularly. And their presence always lifted my spirits, serving as a reminder that I could and would return to the track.
Twenty years later, back in 2003, I received a phone call from my mom informing me that she had read in the local newspaper that Mr. McAlpin had died of lung cancer at the age of 53. I hadn’t seen him since I had graduated from high school, and we hadn’t kept in touch over the years. Still, news of his death saddened me deeply. I found myself thinking back on so many moments we had shared together, realizing that much of my own personality as a teacher and coach had been inspired by his example. He was a quiet man who didn’t impose his will upon his athletes. He was also a very good writer who had gotten some stories published in high-level literary magazines. In his everyday life he was a high school Spanish teacher. Most students didn’t appreciate his depth, totally missed how passionate he was about life. Not until I heard of his death did I realize how much my own life paralleled his.
That’s the thing, man. In our culture, death can be such a difficult, awkward topic to discuss, or to even bring up indirectly. But the coach/athlete relationship that has risen to the level of Friendship easily cuts through all that awkwardness. This past November, one of my former athletes found out that his father had suddenly fallen deathly ill, and that he needed to fly home immediately. He texted me to say he’d be coming home, he’d be bringing his spikes with him, and could we get a workout in while he was in town. It turns out that his father did tragically pass. And the day after he flew into town, he and I met on the track for a hurdle workout. I watched as he cleared the barriers. I gave very little feedback, but instead just let him work through his emotions over the hurdles. His technique looked crisp and tight and sharp. That’s how a hurdler deals with grief. One hurdle at a time. And that’s how a hurdler and his coach communicate. In a language that needs no words.
This online magazine was inspired by the death of a former athlete – one to whom I had grown very close – two years ago. He was 28 years old. Intelligent, insightful, compassionate. His death shattered me. I’m still recovering. Though I had lost loved one in the past, I had never suffered a loss that debilitated me to such a degree, that robbed me so thoroughly of my will to live.
He visited me the week before he died. We went to a track meet together and hung out most of the day. Had a great time. I think he knew he was dying. I think he was saying thank you, and good bye. Not until later, when another former athlete pointed it out to me, did I realize the significance of the fact that in his last days, when he knew he was dying, he came to visit his old coach….
Prior to interviewing Renaldo Nehemiah for a profile I wrote on him for this website in 2005, I first interviewed and wrote an article on his high school coach, Jean Poquette. At the conclusion of the interview with Poquette, I asked if he wouldn’t mind asking Renaldo if he’d be willing to grant me an interview as well. Poquette promised he’d ask. And I think I can be about 100% certain that the profile on Renaldo’s career would’ve never been written if Jean hadn’t asked. Throughout the interview with Renaldo, he referred to his old coach as “Jean,” not Coach Poquette. Anyone who knows Poquette knows that he only allows those whom he considers friends to call him by his first name.
I could go on for pages and pages with various examples – from my own life and from the larger sports world. But I’ve pointed out the ones that have had the most powerful impact upon me. I’m sure that you who are reading this article have plenty of your own stories. Without a doubt, the coach/athlete relationship is one of the most valuable, most meaningful, and most enduring relationships that one can have in one’s lifetime.
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