EVERY OFFICER A COACH
By Walter Aamold, Physical Training and Athletics, U.S. Naval Academy
Dr. R. Tait McKenzie, in writing the history of athletics, came upon a witty little incident in Homer's Odyssey which with slight variations is very applicable to this article. It seems that Homer's Euryalis is a bombastic sort of fellow who having gathered five or six misfits together is drinking somewhere in a dockyard. Odysseus, just fresh from the sea, chances to be passing near by. Euryalis taunts Odysseus, whom he is unable to recognize, as a "master of sailors that are merchantmen," one with a memory for his freight and gore; in fact, he adds insult beyond endurance by declaring: "Thou seemest not a man of thy hands." Odysseus, stung by the taunts of the Phseacians, picks up a discus larger than a bunker plate and hurls it halfway to the horizon, putting Euryalis and his baker's dozen in a most apologetic and affable frame of mind. Such is the trend of this ancient story and it must be admitted in behalf of the good-natured Odysseus that after a man has spent a few weeks at sea bringing his ship to port through rather stubborn weather, he is in no mood to be looked upon as a man not of his hands; in fact, he is very apt to be feeling all hands and feet at the moment of challenge.
For some unaccountable reason there seems to be a universal belief that officers are somewhat apart from anything that pertains to physical performance. Despite history, the recent war, the 1920 Olympic Games, there are still murmurs of surprise in the grand stand when an officer is announced in the line-up of an athletic team in which mixed players are entered. At a recent Army-Marine football game played on a college campus the spectators on learning that several officers were to play halfway expected to see them unpacked from boxes of excelsior and marked "handle with care." After the game had been on awhile the wonder was why they were not kept in iron cages! Considering that the average officer has played a good hard game of some sort while acquiring an education, why should there be such surprise if he keeps up his athletic spirit after graduation? Mainly, perhaps, because it has not been the general practice and for the reason that tradition has not directly connected military dignity with participation in athletics, at least not since the days of the Greeks.
In recent years far-seeing officers in all branches of the military establishment have pointed out that caring for the personnel during recreation hours is only second in importance to training men for duty. In the study of morale in camp and on board ship the thought is that men must have a healthy outlet for their energies to offset their getting into mischief when left entirely on their own resources. With this idea in mind there has been developed a very complete organization to promote athletics and recreational interests of a healthy nature. Naturally the full burden of execution became part of the complex duty of the officers in direct control of personnel, which of course immediately brought about an ever-increasing demand for officers skilled as directors and coaches. From this new system it is very doubtful whether the average officer realizes to what extent athletic coaching has been developed in the service, and it is safe to say that he does not fully credit himself with his own latent ability as a coach. Not so long ago a memorandum was sent around to a group of officers with the request that those interested come forward and assist in coaching, or at least receive instructions in that direction. In most cases the answers indicated that the officers were more than willing to help along but stated that they had had no experience as players in the particular sport in question, or that their experience had been gained some years before and they feared that by now the conditions were greatly changed. In this respect it is to be remembered:
Some of Americas leading coaches never as much as played one game in the sport they now handle with such marked success. Actual participation as a player is not a requirement for a coach.
Others stated that they knew little if anything about coaching, yet perhaps they had drilled many a gun's crew—which performance has in it all the factors to be found in coaching an athletic team.
Coaching in its broadest aspects is a distinct form of spirited leadership governed by the leader's force of character. It has no discipline behind it except that established by respect, a willingness to follow, and the leader's ability to handle men to their best advantage. Does not the President coach his cabinet, or a captain of industry his directors? Indeed so! Coaching finds its way into all organizations founded on leadership and its fundamental principles most surely are not confined entirely to athletics. In nearly every case it is simply a question of a good leader taking off his cloak of authority and going in on his mettle, his energy, and his sense of fair play. It resembles nothing so much as common sense. If he's that kind of a man; if he can lead by sheer ability unassisted by outside discipline, then—he's a premier coach and his opponents will be up nights trying to fathom his methods of success.
Changing from military leadership to athletic coaching is much less abrupt than leaving duties on shipboard to direct a landing party. It is mostly a question of adaptability, and variety of service is but Hobson's choice in the service.
An officer capable of exercising command is, subject to a study of coaching problems, particularly qualified to serve as a successful coach.
The first problem facing a coach is the selection of material. In this the officer must have handy the same yard-stick that he has been using in making up the crew of a turret. The same group of nickle-steel men will be found, likewise the mediocre candidates out. for a good time, as well as the tail-enders who just happen to be there, and a few "twilight sleepers" from which some unknown may be developed into a first-line man. Navy's famous old crew coach, "Dick" Glendon, has stated it something like this: The season opens with a plentiful supply of crucible material; then the boiling down begins and soon a decided division takes place—finally one day there is pure gold and slag. Upon the gold hammers the coach, moulding it into a dependable unit of known quantity and value. It is the first aim, then, to get at the gold and mould it to one's liking!
It may seem strange at first glance that the unit of modem-day athletic groups is not the team. The new unit is the squad—a homogeneous force composed of the first team with at least one runner-up for every position. The unit thus becomes the team with a strong reserve that can hit under all conditions and not be weakened by substitutions! It is a weapon sharpened to a deadly edge by competition within itself.
The tactical control of the team when in action is through an indoctrinated field general, the coach being barred by the rules. In every squad there should be at least three well-trained field generals, each equally capable of taking instant command. If there is such a thing as mental telepathy it should most certainly exist between the coach who sits on the side-lines and his field general directing the fray. If there is super-skill in the coach it should not be lost on the bench, but should be reflected in a modest measure on the field of play. A well-executed play is not a spasmodic outcropping in the midst of the game, it is but the natural result of patient training. The breaks go to the team having the greatest strength—the alibi is gratis to the defeated.
The next important feature in coaching is suppression. First of all resist the temptation to build a team around a star. It is a one-man affair, and at the best a star is but a flash against clever opponents. A recognized star promotes individual and temperamental play as contrasted with teamwork. To allow a would-be star the slightest advantage over others of the squad is to detract from all—work the squad as a unit favoring none. Perhaps if it is not one star troubling a coach it is a clique of some sort. Since there must be absolute unity of control—unity of action and unity of thought, when a coterie first shows itself—off with its head!
In brief, the spirit to be instilled in the squad is well expressed by Dr. McKenzie in his description of the Greek word Aidos: "…for which the exact English equivalent is hard to find, but which is opposed to both insolence and servility, that, while it puts into a man's heart the thrill and joy of the fight, restrains him from using his strength like a brute or from cringing to a superior force; that wins for him honor and respect, in victory or defeat, instead of terror from the weak and contempt from the strong. It includes that scrupulous respect for personal honor and fairness that would make a team elect to risk a probable defeat rather than win through the services of those who do not come within the spirit of a gentleman's agreement. It is that spirit of modesty and dignity that obeys the law, even if the decision seems unjust, instead of piercing the air with protestations."
Turning to policy of play the officer is still very much at home as a coach, for in all forms of competition the leading factors are offense and defense. For reasons unknown to man where offense and defense would seem equal the offense actually succeeds—perhaps on account of its accumulative features; sufficient to say a strong offense will be the ruling passion of a coach marked for the path of victory. In the offense there are elements of defense; in the defense there is little more than a time interval looking forward to an opportunity to take up or resume the offensive. However, the strategy of play must be well balanced, offering equal opportunities on either offense or defense. As to plan, there must be absolute simplicity. The details must be capable of being thoroughly understood and mastered by the unit as a whole and by each individual of the playing unit. Very often one sees plays fairly well executed by a team but not thoroughly understood by individuals making the play. In such cases the individual depends upon guidance from other players, and if there is a disruption of any sort, the play is quickly broken up. The greater the tactics, the simpler the execution. Complexity and confusion are old shipmates of failure. In every move of every play each man should have a part at full strength either for concentrated action or to decoy or divide opponent's force by strategy.
Contrary to popular belief coaches do not manufacture "shoestring" plays over night that are sure to win a game the following day, nor do they work out revolutionary plays with soda crackers while dining out. Their first worry is to find a solid, ground gaining play with certain elements of stability, safety, form, and system. Such a play is very much on the order of T.N.T.—there may be explosives a great deal stronger, but because they either go too quickly or don't go at all, they are not depended upon to do the bulk of the work. This first fundamental play, then, is adopted, mastered, and finally worked into variations such as to the right or left or reversed. Following this a lighter play is taken up as a threat, for there should always be a threat or two in a coach's bag of tricks; a feint in boxing, a bunt in baseball, and so on. As there is a time limit to training and preparation for an amateur sport, not many plays can be developed throughout a season. Few are needed—if there is a dash of genius!
To prevent any possibility of confusion and to allow for a logical development and modification of play it is essential that a coach reduce his strategy to writing and diagram before the opening of the season. This will give opportunity to discovery errors and will allow a quicker development early in the season.
Conditioning a team to its highest point of power is as delicate an operation as tempering steel. A month of advance training is required during which time the vitality of the squad must never be carried below normal by over-practice. Unfortunately, this is too often the case. Training is the process of building up and conserving energy, the peak to be reached on the actual day of play, not the day before and then carried at par. The most disturbing factor in conditioning is change of diet and living conditions. Training does not mean a complete reversal of living conditions—not in the least, it is but the modification and regulation of living conditions of which the contestants are in rhythm. One would not train a Japanese runner on heavy meat—nor an American on rice. In life there is a certain well-defined rhythm similar in purpose to the balance wheel of a watch. It is there because it is the most efficient way Nature has of doing things. It swings so much this way, so much that way, always with a measured cadence that regulates the body and keeps it in tone. When training introduces new factors in the method of living the rhythm is disturbed and a new habit must be formed—a new balance established. Quite recently a coach sent his team overland for competition. On the way they came upon new fruit just coming into season. "Nothing like it for putting the boys in shape!" he declared. And it did—but the timing was wrong and the playing was therefore weak. Careful regulation results from even habit—and food above all must not be changed during a training period.
At one time throughout the service, with the exception of the Naval Academy, a large part of the coaching was done by ship's cooks. This came about from several causes; first, the cooks were able to run an improvised training table out of hours for their particular protégé. In addition they had flexible watches and there was little athletic organization in their place. Under the regime of the old galley the original "ham-and-eggers" thrived in unholy numbers, but somehow, somewhere, the system was wrong, for none of their dandies seemed able to escape knock-outs in the ring or deck courts at the mast. Usually the candidates were blessed with ambidextrous stomachs but one-armed punches. They took up training for "kind treatment" and eating raw meat for temperament. A prolonged period of indigestion usually preceded a meet and a financial crash followed hard upon its heels, to say nothing of commissary complaints from the proletariat of the mess. Thus, by the abuses of training, the Navy soon got enough of this and a reaction set in, in the direction of welfare secretaries. Needless to say, athletics, particularly at training stations, took on a much more refined air—but still the punch was lacking! The trouble takes us back again to the selection of material. Under the new order of things the '"ham-and-egger" was set aside, or rather dropped out, while the milder fellow who pulled a "strong oar in church" took up in his place. Between both extremes stood the solid material that makes up every ship's division. It was not until the division officer himself came out for coaching that the entire watch felt the appeal—it became reorganized as a ship's affair for the ship's honor with the result that "raw meat" and "postum" went by the board or around to all hands. Thus by placing coaching in the proper quarter the food question, selection, participation, and a host of other things became regulated to the present-day practice of "athletics for everybody" and the sweepers take the hindmost.