---------- Forwarded message ----------
From: < Z >
Date: Mon, Apr 25, 2011 at 1:11 PM
Subject: Go get it!
To: Edward
Cc: Northwestern Men's Ultimate, AJ, Oliver, Neal, BJ, Chris
NUT-
I have mentioned a few times the amount of focus and desire that it takes to raise one's game. I have remarked that this team needs to invest itself in its own outcome, and that I can only be a guide for the motivation that you have within you. I probably should have been doing more to elicit that motivation. I don't really like being the intense coach, because I generally can't pretend to take it personally if a player does not perform. It does not upset me at a personal level, though occasionally I get disappointed. More often, I am heartened by the earnest effort that you put in. However, effort alone does not win titles. Effort -- hard as it is, and admirable as it is that you give it -- is like punching the clock. Focus and desire and belief is what wins.
At the Old v. Young game, I tried to exhibit (as an invested player, not as a coach) what it was like to want something. As a player, I feel personally affronted when my teammate does not put on the mark which was called. As a player, I feel deeply shamed when I make a poor throwing choice, and so I have to apologize or I cannot live with myself. As a player, I must speak out when I see my team playing defense without facing their offenders. I am compelled to remind us that we have to call UP when the disc is thrown, because we defenders CANNOT see the disc and DO NOT know when it has changed position and the count reset without that information (which changes how we should play). As a player, I have to patrol the sidelines because that might help my team out in some way. As a player, of course I take an easy opportunity to advance the disc over a riskier choice, because my team's success is far more important than my own glory. And every second that I am playing defense I am zeroed in on my task -- even if it's a poach -- and I'm constantly worried about repositioning myself, and I do this because I might be liable for a score. Surely I tell others what position I will fall into, in a zone, and no way would I let an offender slip deep without being sure that my teammate picked him up. And no way do I tire in my role as a sideline player throughout the course of the game. And certainly I have the focus to keep this up for... however long it takes!
These are not things that I need to remember. These are things that I, myself, feel, because of how badly I want to win (or maybe how much I need to avoid losing).
"But why drop the F-bomb?"
Of course, there are different styles of play, and some people play with the same desire, but without the demonstrativeness. I have been both types of player in my career, actually -- usually depending on which type I think will be most beneficial to my team. A few words on that. (One word here and one word later.
[Excuse me, in what follows, for drawing on my personal playing history. I usually try to avoid doing this, but I think I need to now.]
First, passion and competitiveness do not contradict spirit of the game. I know this first-hand. In 1996, Team USA won WFDF elite words AND the Spirit of the Game award for the tournament. I have chaired the Conduct Committee of the UPA, and I wrote the UPA Code of Conduct. I wrote the document "Ten Things You Need to Know about SOTG." My team won Grandmasters a few years ago and I was my team's spirit winner. All this just to say: it's okay to have a fire in your belly!!!!! Just respect your teammates and your opponents all the while.
"But why do you care so much?" The OvY game does not mean that much to me. But integrity means that when you make a commitment, you live by it. If you step onto a field, you do so with your whole person. If you honor your commitments in life with that kind of investment, you will live with a high confidence and comfort with yourself. Saying that you want to win means nothing unless you actually want to win. And then... if you WANT IT, you have to GO GET IT! (I mean this figuratively and literally -- go get the disc!)
"But aren't you setting unreasonable expectations?"
Three responses:
1. It would be insulting if I didn't.
2. At no time do I (as a player or coach) expect more from any person than they are capable of achieving.
3. You cannot achieve unreasonable results without unreasonable expectations.
One more personal story, then I'll go. (It's my "second word" to the question above, about different kinds of players.)
Last year, I joined the Chicago masters team Real Huck, after a few years with the Boston team. The Boston masters team had won nationals and worlds and grandmasters (when my captain approached me for the idea for a masters team as a reunion squad and asked me what I thought the goals for the team should be, I simply replied with a two line email: "1. Win Nationals. 2. Win Worlds"), but had changed personnel a bit, lost some numbers, and lost in the semis in the previous two years. My open career started in Boston then moved to Chicago, and it made sense for my masters career to follow suit. (Also, it began to feel silly to fly to tournaments as an out-of-region player as a slow, old man.) My first tournament with Real Huck was last August, and the moment I got to the fields and saw my team's playing attitude and level, my heart sank. But I had committed to the team, and this was my reality. I immediately set a tone of expectation that was out of line with everything the team had been exhibiting. This was a conscious decision. I challenged our captain (an old friend) in huddles, and did not settle for any kind of strategic explanation that did not make sense. I would not let the team be defeatist just because they were playing the open Sub-Zero squad. If a player looked off a pass, I confronted him about it and no, I would not just "let it go." If there was room for improvement on a point that we scored, or if we only got lucky, I took us to task for it. If there is such a thing as an asshole who is still respectful, that was what I was. This was all a conscious choice, though not an act. (I even told my old friend, the captain, that I had to do this. He agreed.) I continued throughout the year with this level of expectation and performance for the team. At regionals, I went into a breathless halftime tirade which was probably a verbatim copy of the second paragraph of this letter (with less, um... "expurgation," shall we say). Now I cannot take *any* credit for Real Huck's performance last year -- I wasn't even at Day 2 of regionals! -- but they were able to beat my old Boston team and also make semis of nationals. But I will take some credit for expecting greatness and believing in big things, and convincing some of my teammates to do the same.
Last year, NUT achieved glory by beating Michigan in St Louis and playing a strong game against them in Indiana. This year's book is still open. Let's make the last chapter a story of FOCUS, BELIEF, and DESIRE.
See you Tuesday,
-z
From: < Z >
Date: Mon, Apr 25, 2011 at 1:11 PM
Subject: Go get it!
To: Edward
Cc: Northwestern Men's Ultimate, AJ, Oliver, Neal, BJ, Chris
NUT-
I have mentioned a few times the amount of focus and desire that it takes to raise one's game. I have remarked that this team needs to invest itself in its own outcome, and that I can only be a guide for the motivation that you have within you. I probably should have been doing more to elicit that motivation. I don't really like being the intense coach, because I generally can't pretend to take it personally if a player does not perform. It does not upset me at a personal level, though occasionally I get disappointed. More often, I am heartened by the earnest effort that you put in. However, effort alone does not win titles. Effort -- hard as it is, and admirable as it is that you give it -- is like punching the clock. Focus and desire and belief is what wins.
At the Old v. Young game, I tried to exhibit (as an invested player, not as a coach) what it was like to want something. As a player, I feel personally affronted when my teammate does not put on the mark which was called. As a player, I feel deeply shamed when I make a poor throwing choice, and so I have to apologize or I cannot live with myself. As a player, I must speak out when I see my team playing defense without facing their offenders. I am compelled to remind us that we have to call UP when the disc is thrown, because we defenders CANNOT see the disc and DO NOT know when it has changed position and the count reset without that information (which changes how we should play). As a player, I have to patrol the sidelines because that might help my team out in some way. As a player, of course I take an easy opportunity to advance the disc over a riskier choice, because my team's success is far more important than my own glory. And every second that I am playing defense I am zeroed in on my task -- even if it's a poach -- and I'm constantly worried about repositioning myself, and I do this because I might be liable for a score. Surely I tell others what position I will fall into, in a zone, and no way would I let an offender slip deep without being sure that my teammate picked him up. And no way do I tire in my role as a sideline player throughout the course of the game. And certainly I have the focus to keep this up for... however long it takes!
These are not things that I need to remember. These are things that I, myself, feel, because of how badly I want to win (or maybe how much I need to avoid losing).
"But why drop the F-bomb?"
Of course, there are different styles of play, and some people play with the same desire, but without the demonstrativeness. I have been both types of player in my career, actually -- usually depending on which type I think will be most beneficial to my team. A few words on that. (One word here and one word later.
[Excuse me, in what follows, for drawing on my personal playing history. I usually try to avoid doing this, but I think I need to now.]
First, passion and competitiveness do not contradict spirit of the game. I know this first-hand. In 1996, Team USA won WFDF elite words AND the Spirit of the Game award for the tournament. I have chaired the Conduct Committee of the UPA, and I wrote the UPA Code of Conduct. I wrote the document "Ten Things You Need to Know about SOTG." My team won Grandmasters a few years ago and I was my team's spirit winner. All this just to say: it's okay to have a fire in your belly!!!!! Just respect your teammates and your opponents all the while.
"But why do you care so much?" The OvY game does not mean that much to me. But integrity means that when you make a commitment, you live by it. If you step onto a field, you do so with your whole person. If you honor your commitments in life with that kind of investment, you will live with a high confidence and comfort with yourself. Saying that you want to win means nothing unless you actually want to win. And then... if you WANT IT, you have to GO GET IT! (I mean this figuratively and literally -- go get the disc!)
"But aren't you setting unreasonable expectations?"
Three responses:
1. It would be insulting if I didn't.
2. At no time do I (as a player or coach) expect more from any person than they are capable of achieving.
3. You cannot achieve unreasonable results without unreasonable expectations.
One more personal story, then I'll go. (It's my "second word" to the question above, about different kinds of players.)
Last year, I joined the Chicago masters team Real Huck, after a few years with the Boston team. The Boston masters team had won nationals and worlds and grandmasters (when my captain approached me for the idea for a masters team as a reunion squad and asked me what I thought the goals for the team should be, I simply replied with a two line email: "1. Win Nationals. 2. Win Worlds"), but had changed personnel a bit, lost some numbers, and lost in the semis in the previous two years. My open career started in Boston then moved to Chicago, and it made sense for my masters career to follow suit. (Also, it began to feel silly to fly to tournaments as an out-of-region player as a slow, old man.) My first tournament with Real Huck was last August, and the moment I got to the fields and saw my team's playing attitude and level, my heart sank. But I had committed to the team, and this was my reality. I immediately set a tone of expectation that was out of line with everything the team had been exhibiting. This was a conscious decision. I challenged our captain (an old friend) in huddles, and did not settle for any kind of strategic explanation that did not make sense. I would not let the team be defeatist just because they were playing the open Sub-Zero squad. If a player looked off a pass, I confronted him about it and no, I would not just "let it go." If there was room for improvement on a point that we scored, or if we only got lucky, I took us to task for it. If there is such a thing as an asshole who is still respectful, that was what I was. This was all a conscious choice, though not an act. (I even told my old friend, the captain, that I had to do this. He agreed.) I continued throughout the year with this level of expectation and performance for the team. At regionals, I went into a breathless halftime tirade which was probably a verbatim copy of the second paragraph of this letter (with less, um... "expurgation," shall we say). Now I cannot take *any* credit for Real Huck's performance last year -- I wasn't even at Day 2 of regionals! -- but they were able to beat my old Boston team and also make semis of nationals. But I will take some credit for expecting greatness and believing in big things, and convincing some of my teammates to do the same.
Last year, NUT achieved glory by beating Michigan in St Louis and playing a strong game against them in Indiana. This year's book is still open. Let's make the last chapter a story of FOCUS, BELIEF, and DESIRE.
See you Tuesday,
-z
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