Ladies and gents, light your dojos
Monday, August 31, 2015
Friday, August 28, 2015
The Little Things
I think that great teams do the little things well. A few years ago I was watching an interview with a Fury rookie. She was quick to point out how everyone on Fury was committed to doing the little things right, more so than any team she had played on prior. This was while Fury was still on their absurd streak of back-to-back championships. They had the talent, the coaching, and they knew the value in putting in the work to do the little things right. I think that things that seem little add up over a season and in the end make a huge difference. "Little things" has a lot of different meanings to me. I think teams should think critically about what that means to them, as it can cover a huge variety of situations. Here are a few examples that spring to mind:
Examples of "little things":
- The 15 minute Principle: Showing up at least 15 min early to practice and staying at least 15 minutes late.
- The Practice Quality Principle: Bringing the heat in drills and conditioning, even if you don't feel like it, or aren't feeling great that day.
- The Preparation Principle: Eating properly, sleeping properly, and practicing good time management so that you can give full focus at practices and tournaments. Bringing a water bottle to practice falls under this.
"Little things" can even extend to cover on-field skills that are often overlooked/undervalued, such as energy while marking, crisp reset passes, or strong spacing awareness.
I think perfection at the little things is a difficult challenge for any individual, but one worth striving for. Show me a team that does the little things well and I'll show you a great team.
When I'm coaching, I try to bring up the importance of the little things. I like to be at practice early. I like to stress the value of drills. I like to talk about the on-field little things we can control. I think that with practiced focus and effort, there are seemingly marginal advantages that can be gathered up all over the field. A better mark forces a harder throw, good hips adds pressure downfield, field awareness narrows the lane. The advantages start stacking up and soon they turn from marginal to real.
Hucks and skies fill the highlight reels, but games are won and lost to the little things.
Examples of "little things":
- The 15 minute Principle: Showing up at least 15 min early to practice and staying at least 15 minutes late.
- The Practice Quality Principle: Bringing the heat in drills and conditioning, even if you don't feel like it, or aren't feeling great that day.
- The Preparation Principle: Eating properly, sleeping properly, and practicing good time management so that you can give full focus at practices and tournaments. Bringing a water bottle to practice falls under this.
"Little things" can even extend to cover on-field skills that are often overlooked/undervalued, such as energy while marking, crisp reset passes, or strong spacing awareness.
I think perfection at the little things is a difficult challenge for any individual, but one worth striving for. Show me a team that does the little things well and I'll show you a great team.
When I'm coaching, I try to bring up the importance of the little things. I like to be at practice early. I like to stress the value of drills. I like to talk about the on-field little things we can control. I think that with practiced focus and effort, there are seemingly marginal advantages that can be gathered up all over the field. A better mark forces a harder throw, good hips adds pressure downfield, field awareness narrows the lane. The advantages start stacking up and soon they turn from marginal to real.
Hucks and skies fill the highlight reels, but games are won and lost to the little things.
Some Numbers
A college season, in a nutshell:
21,000 - Throws thrown outside of practice by each player. 100 per day, 7 months.
21,000 - Yards sprinted in 150 shuttles by each player, in practices.
625 - Maximum possible improvement points for a hypothetical 100% present/100% practicing team in the Winter and Spring.
221 - Days between the first day of school on September 21 and Regionals in April.
120 - Practice hours, September through April.
84 - Minimum hours spent in the gym for an A-teamer, outside of practice. 3 hrs per week, 28 weeks.
50 Practices - September through April.
8 Tournaments - Fall through the series.
2 - Games to go, both in 2014.
1 Point - Margin of victory in the regional title game that year.
1 Throw - The difference between victory and defeat.
When your name gets called, what do you want your numbers to say about you?
Wednesday, August 26, 2015
Injury Inventory
Nothing is more frustrating than a recurring injury keeping you from practices and games.
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I think that the frequency of injury within a team can have a significant impact on a team's ability to improve over a season. A quick thought experiment:
Let's say:
- the team has a roster of 25 players.
- the team has a total of 25 available practices in which to get better (winter/spring)
- Players try as hard as they can when healthy and attend all practices.
- If a player is healthy and practices, they earn (1) point for the team.
- If a player is injured and does not practice, they earn (0) points for the team.
This means the maximum potential for the team is (25 players) * ( 25 practices) = 625 points.
The best case scenario is that obviously that everyone is always healthy, attends every practice, and every point possible is claimed. This means the team improves as much as they possibly can.
But injuries are part of the game. Wear and tear, collisions with other players and the ground, etc. can cause injury. Let's say that our team has an average of two players injured per practice. Not always the same players, let's assume it rotates around a bit.
With 2 injured players per practice, we can now only earn 23 points per practice. This caps our max potential at 575 for the season, around 92% of where we started. So the best possible version of our team is 8% worse, just due to injury.
I know I have been at practices with 5 or more players unable to cleat up. If this happened every practice, the team would be losing a full 20% of it's improvement potential, solely due to injury. (Note: I'm not even bringing attendance numbers into this, but it's not a stretch to see how teams could dip down to 65% or lower, just on number of practicing players.)
-------
Some injuries can heal with time and rest. More often, I have found that my injuries are symptomatic of a bad movement pattern, and that time and rest isn't enough. This is when physical therapy and weight training come into play.
Ren (http://www.renfitness.net/xhtml/resources.html) talks about how she works with new clients and develops an "Injury Inventory" - A list of all the injuries a player has sustained. The purpose of this is to gain a better understanding of what might be going on, if any movement patters are wrong/needs fixing, and to better determine how a player should train/identify areas of improvement. The end goal is to determine how to get on the right path towards maintaining health and being back on the field. I think it's a pretty cool idea. I'm not a certified strength and conditioning coach, but I don't think I have to be to go over my injury history and try to develop a better understanding of my historical problem areas.
My Injury Inventory:
Problem Area - Time Frame
Ankle Sprains (R/L) - Jr. High School - 6 weeks Physical Therapy (2-3x/wk)
Low Hamstring Pull (R) - High School - No formal PT
Shin Splints (R/L) - 2008 College - No formal PT
High Hamstring Pull (R) - 2008 College - No formal PT
Separated Shoulder (R) - 2012 College - No formal PT
Sports Hernia (Low Back) - 2012 College - 8 weeks Physical Therapy
Low Hamstring Pull (R) - 2013 - No formal PT
Groin Pull (R) - 2013 - No Formal PT
Groin Pull (R) - 2013 - No Formal PT
ACL Tear (R) - 2013 - Surgery, 6 months Physical Therapy
Groin Pull (R) - 2014 - 6 weeks Physical Therapy (2-3x/wk)
I have learned that I have much to learn about my body. I like to think I have made some progress towards understanding how to keep it healthy and ready to play. My most important lesson would be that coming back from a recurring injury requires listening and working with your physical therapist, great patience, and the iron will to complete rehab/prehab exercises day in and day out. I have never been able to overcome a recurring leg injury without those 3 things, and especially not without the help of a physical therapist.
Tuesday, August 25, 2015
Monday, August 24, 2015
Earn the Huck
I think there is a trap young teams can fall into where they rely far too much on hucking. I think there are a few reasons this happens.
1. It works against teams that are less athletic.
2. It can seem to make sense statistically if: your offense cannot possess the disc and you know your opponent can't work it a full 70 without doinking an under and giving you a short field.
3. Some players are obsessed with hucking. A strong thrower feels like they have to win the game themselves.
If a team can win games by hucking due the reasons above, those are probably games that would be won regardless of strategy. I feel strongly that hucking is often used as a crutch, and never should be. I think teams that overly rely on hucks tend to be one-dimensional, and teams that are one-dimensional are very easy to stop. I think we can and should strive to be better than this.
I think that an offensive foundation must be built and that a team must earn the ability to huck. If a team's offense is like a skyscraper, hucking is the penthouse suite. Everyone likes to talk about how cool it is and how fun it is to be there, but without a strong foundation and lots of lower floors, the penthouse suite can't exist.
In the effort to create a multidimensional offense, I think that a foundation must be established first. For Bolt, this foundation might be built on: the reset pass (upline, around swing, dish) and the openside upfield under (20 yds or fewer, receiver coming towards disc). These foundational pieces make up 80% or more of everything the team does on the field. It takes time, effort, and focus to work on these skills, and it takes patience to use them in the heat of competition.
Our quest to master these basic skills plays a huge role in how much better we get and in how well we play in April. I think a team should strive to be able to do these things well under as many different circumstances as possible. Specifically: in different kinds of weather, in low energy situations, in high pressure situations, against different levels of opponent, and with the as much of the roster as possible. I think competence at these skills is completely within reach for a hardworking true rookie, within a 7 month college season.
Once this foundation is established, opposing defenses are forced to respect the scoring threat of possession based offense. They have to fight harder to contest unders and handler resets. I think this is when the deep game opens up, and the right to huck has been earned.
When I'm coaching, I will often ask myself: If we got the disc on universe, could we march it up the field with our foundational skills?
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When I watched Illinois win the regional title game in 2015, it wasn't the hucks or the skies that stood out to me. It was the methodical and juggernaut-like d-line offense, marching the disc in for break after break.
1. It works against teams that are less athletic.
2. It can seem to make sense statistically if: your offense cannot possess the disc and you know your opponent can't work it a full 70 without doinking an under and giving you a short field.
3. Some players are obsessed with hucking. A strong thrower feels like they have to win the game themselves.
If a team can win games by hucking due the reasons above, those are probably games that would be won regardless of strategy. I feel strongly that hucking is often used as a crutch, and never should be. I think teams that overly rely on hucks tend to be one-dimensional, and teams that are one-dimensional are very easy to stop. I think we can and should strive to be better than this.
I think that an offensive foundation must be built and that a team must earn the ability to huck. If a team's offense is like a skyscraper, hucking is the penthouse suite. Everyone likes to talk about how cool it is and how fun it is to be there, but without a strong foundation and lots of lower floors, the penthouse suite can't exist.
In the effort to create a multidimensional offense, I think that a foundation must be established first. For Bolt, this foundation might be built on: the reset pass (upline, around swing, dish) and the openside upfield under (20 yds or fewer, receiver coming towards disc). These foundational pieces make up 80% or more of everything the team does on the field. It takes time, effort, and focus to work on these skills, and it takes patience to use them in the heat of competition.
Our quest to master these basic skills plays a huge role in how much better we get and in how well we play in April. I think a team should strive to be able to do these things well under as many different circumstances as possible. Specifically: in different kinds of weather, in low energy situations, in high pressure situations, against different levels of opponent, and with the as much of the roster as possible. I think competence at these skills is completely within reach for a hardworking true rookie, within a 7 month college season.
Once this foundation is established, opposing defenses are forced to respect the scoring threat of possession based offense. They have to fight harder to contest unders and handler resets. I think this is when the deep game opens up, and the right to huck has been earned.
When I'm coaching, I will often ask myself: If we got the disc on universe, could we march it up the field with our foundational skills?
-------
When I watched Illinois win the regional title game in 2015, it wasn't the hucks or the skies that stood out to me. It was the methodical and juggernaut-like d-line offense, marching the disc in for break after break.
Friday, August 21, 2015
[NUT] Fwd: Go get it!
---------- 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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