I was recently walking down the side of the River Severn one afternoon when I could hear a lot of noise from the playing fields next to me and on the opposite side of the river from Worcester Cathedral. I could see three games of school rugby being played in good spirits, with applause at appropriate good play. A very refreshing change from the whooping and whistling that seems to have invaded our lives.
I am not a great spectator of sport, having been a very active player I always wish I was back on the field. Nonetheless, it is always great to see games being played. As I walked on my way after, a brief stop to have a good look, it reminded me of a time when I too was at school.
One Saturday morning we had played a game of rugby against another school, and had a resounding victory, something like 64 – 3 (I remember the 3). We were feeling pretty good as we left the pitch. It was clear that our rugby teacher was not as impressed as we were. He called us all together and said that we had not played as well as we could have, and that it was sloppy play that had let in the one try (the scoring system has changed since then). I would add that the delivery of this message was somewhat ‘straight’. He also advised us to tell our parents that we had extra training one night in the following week, and we would be home late from school. Our teacher was also the coach and player of a top rugby club, so highly respected by us in his ability, although sometimes he sent shivers down us with his matter of fact way.
When we gathered in the dark winter night after school on the chosen day we were taken down to the playing fields. These were situated at the bottom of a steep grassy bank a little distance from the main school building. All of the lights in the school, on the playing field side, were lit. From past experiences we knew we were in for a long session of training. Our teacher was calm and much more amenable than on the Saturday morning. As we stood there we listened to the benefit of his wisdom. Even though we had won, he was disappointed in our play on the Saturday. It had shown sloppiness, and as the score rose, we became too confident and less precise in what we had been taught. He added that he was not after a huge score, humiliating the other side, but a score that came from great play, and respect for the other side.
To add salt into a growing wound he said that the other side had played hard and when they left the field, even though they had lost, they knew they had played as well as they could. He told us that he knew we had not played our best, not given are best, not used the opportunity to hone our game.
He added that we were playing for the reputation of the team, the reputation of the school; and as he put in finer words that I can muster in print, for the reputation of our teacher. We were also reminded of the upcoming game on the next Saturday against a tough side, and told in clear terms, that, based on the performance of the previous game we would lose. And so the training started.
In the dark there was a dull thud as our teacher kicked a ball high into the air. The ball rose and we caught sight of the ball as it cleared the top of the bank to be silhouetted against the lights of the school, before falling into the darkness when it fell below the top of the bank, bouncing 10 metres below on the ground. It was clear we were into catching and passing. As our eyes grew accustomed to the dark, we, in turn, had to catch the ball, pass swiftly and accurately back through the team to our teacher for the next thud. Every time a ball was missed, or dropped, we started again and this carried on until every ball was caught and passed. A long and tough evening.
This was not the only occasion when we were pressed into extra training activities by our teacher. I remember on a number of occasions when we would come across some legends in the rugby world on our own school playing field. Our teacher had asked them to come along and train us how to tackle, how to kick, how to create set piece play and so much more. Players who has been ‘capped’ for England; a player who had nationally kicked the highest points in a season. To be gifted the opportunity to learn from these players was the magic of schoolboy dreams, yet here they were playing and teaching us.
So what messages did I take from this experience all those years ago that have stuck with me, and time will never let fade? These are a few:
- Never give less than your best – even when things get ‘easy’.
- Respect others who are doing the best they can. They may not have had the opportunity to ‘train’ as well as you have, so never dilute their contribution.
- For every brilliant team there will be a more brilliant coach behind you – so leave your ego, and that of the team in the changing room.
- Allow the salt to be rubbed into the wound – it may hurt at the time but the scar will be less when the wound heals.
- Turn up for ‘training’, no matter what; you may get an opportunity you hadn’t bargained for.
All these years later the lesson still stands…..and I still value learning and having a coach.
It is said you never forget a good teacher – well I haven’t: thank you Sir.
Oh, and we did win the following Saturday.
My best wishes,
Peter
PS And if you need your own coach to help make sure your game is the best it can be, do get in touch.
