Back in late May, The Boston Globe ran a story on David Ortiz, who had started the season poorly for the Red Sox. Ortiz, it seemed, was not "himself" lately. The article explored what, for some athletes -- mostly professional -- is a truly complex relationship between themselves and the media, fans, and teammates. Blocking out negative thoughts, whether generated in your own head or suggested by a caller on sports-talk radio, is a valuable skill for professional athletes. But for Ortiz, he just couldn't take it any more. Apparently, Ortiz was locked in an existential hell, surrounded by his critics. They were in his head, their comments eating at his normally jovial demeanor until he became quiet, morose, bitter, and withdrawn.
Ortiz's rationale for his reaction is worth exploring. There is some blame of his tormenters. Their constant criticism of him is, according to Ortiz in this article by Amalie Benjamin, why he "...came to be, going from being an angel to being [a jerk]. It wasn't because of me. It was because people change you." Isn't Ortiz articulating a commonly held thought about the nature of being a professional athlete (or entertainers, or politician, etc.); that what you are is constructed by how you are perceived? Those perceptions are manifest in money - whether people will pay to see you do your thing -- or by votes -- whether people will re-elect you. But your entire professional existence can be, in no small part, defined by others. It's not enough to go merrily along believing that everything is fine because you are doing your best. Professional athletes are acutely aware that criticism from the media and fans can sometimes be a harbinger of a tanking career. It's upsetting not only because it hurts to be criticized, but because it might mean a loss of your livelihood.
What is interesting is Ortiz's willingness to reflect a base, some would say less mature, response to his critics when he looks at his own behavior. The "I'm being a jerk because you made me be this way" excuse. Not unlike the reason one sibling gives for hitting the other: "He started it!" It is hard to know, after reading the article, whether to feel sorry for Ortiz and to join him in being hurt by insensitive critics who sometimes forget they're talking about a human being, or whether to tell him to buck up, ignore the insults, and refuse to let others control his behavior. I don't know the context real well because I don't live in Boston, I'm not a Red Sox fan, and don't know the complexities of Ortiz's history in the city. But if Boston fans are like others, some will side with Ortiz, some will think he's whining, some will scratch their heads and even wonder why anyone is paying attention to how a multi-million dollar player "feels" when someone says something unkind to him.
The critics are along for the rest of Ortiz's professional ride. He can either let them chatter in his ear as he drives down the highway, banish them to the back seat, or lock them in the trunk. They may feel like a GPS that he can never unplug. So maybe the best he can do is change the setting to a language he doesn't understand and tune them out.
Monday, July 5, 2010
Wednesday, May 12, 2010
A "Good" Team
Here's a small story about a high school soccer team and its accumulation of red cards. This is not a headline grabber when our media outlets are focused more on the sensational - Virginia lacrosse player, Yeardley Love's murder - for instance. But I'm not ready to tackle the weighty moral, judicial, psychological, and social issues that this homicide has raised. I think we all need a little time before we can begin any sort of rational analysis of that tragedy.
So anyway, this is a story out of a high school in Iowa where the boys soccer team is banned from post-season play because they received too many red cards during the season. While the article doesn't go in to great depth, it appears as if the coach and athletic director are not battling this decision. In an unusual acceptance of the importance of behavioral guidelines, the coach states that he is disappointed in his young team. No one is arguing that the league rule is unfair. The coach does make a statement that his team does not want to be known as the the kind of team that gets five cards. That kind of statement, which is repeated in many forms by individuals and teams who firmly state that they're "not that kind of player/team", is a fascinating one. Its premise is that there ARE players and team that are "that kind of player/team." Is that argument at all based in a belief that life is simpler than it really seems? Do we deep down believe that there are "bad" people and "good" people? That when we stray from the rules or make missteps, we desperately need others to know that we're not "bad" people - just "good" people who broke a rule? This inner conflict for those who have strayed is, in some ways, a useful reaction. It is a manifestation of the tension between how we think others are seeing us and how we want them to see us in a moral context. It's a compulsion that can force us to re-examine our ethical standards if we use it as a catalyst to look inward and self-reflect.
So here's hoping that this is the learning season for these boys from Iowa. I would be heartened to see an example of individual and group development that results in fewer red cards and a reputation as being a "good" team next year. But if that happens, it probably won't make the news. I'm content to hope.
So anyway, this is a story out of a high school in Iowa where the boys soccer team is banned from post-season play because they received too many red cards during the season. While the article doesn't go in to great depth, it appears as if the coach and athletic director are not battling this decision. In an unusual acceptance of the importance of behavioral guidelines, the coach states that he is disappointed in his young team. No one is arguing that the league rule is unfair. The coach does make a statement that his team does not want to be known as the the kind of team that gets five cards. That kind of statement, which is repeated in many forms by individuals and teams who firmly state that they're "not that kind of player/team", is a fascinating one. Its premise is that there ARE players and team that are "that kind of player/team." Is that argument at all based in a belief that life is simpler than it really seems? Do we deep down believe that there are "bad" people and "good" people? That when we stray from the rules or make missteps, we desperately need others to know that we're not "bad" people - just "good" people who broke a rule? This inner conflict for those who have strayed is, in some ways, a useful reaction. It is a manifestation of the tension between how we think others are seeing us and how we want them to see us in a moral context. It's a compulsion that can force us to re-examine our ethical standards if we use it as a catalyst to look inward and self-reflect.
So here's hoping that this is the learning season for these boys from Iowa. I would be heartened to see an example of individual and group development that results in fewer red cards and a reputation as being a "good" team next year. But if that happens, it probably won't make the news. I'm content to hope.
Thursday, April 8, 2010
The Case For Competition
I often go back to Alfie Kohn's 1986 book No Contest: The Case Against Competition to test my beliefs about the value of competitive sport. I don't agree with everything Kohn says (shocking, I know) and I think it's not completely appropriate to group athletic competition in with other types of competition. I DO believe that the competitive playing field can, when regulated by thoughtful and ethical people, be an environment that truly supports positive moral development in young athletes (and even some older ones).
But Kohn forces us to look at some assumptions that have been made throughout history, particularly the "sports builds character" mantra that is accepted by some without any critical examination of what that means. Kohn cites a 1971 article by Bruce Ogilvie and Thomas Tutko that was published in Psychology Today entitled "Sport: If You Want to Build Character, Try Something Else." Ogilvie and Tutko discussed in that article a personality profile of 15,000 athletes that showed that they demonstrated a "low interest in receiving support and concern from others, low need to take care for others, and low need for affiliation." They also concluded that those personality traits "seem(ed) necessary to achieve victory over others." Now I haven't read the original article and am not familiar with the Ogilivie/Tutko study but certainly we should always question the demographics of the sample group (particularly gender), what type of sport the subjects played, not to mention all of the other questions one should ask about research such as this before blindly accepting the results. And, of course, the study is now almost 40 years old.
That study aside, this kind of research begs the questions of WHY these personality traits are demonstrated. Unless we buy into the theory that personality is completely established at conception and that character traits are immutable, we have to look at the environments that may help perpetuate these traits. The influence that coaches, teammates, parents, and others have over the competitive environment is significant. So how can we just accept that it is the "competitive environment" is simply detrimental to the moral development of young athletes? Doesn't that completely dismiss the impact of those people around the athletes who manage the competitive experience for them?
Even on the college level, where some would argue that an individual student-athlete's moral foundation has already been set, I see student-athletes all the time who are competing fairly, with respect for their opponents, themselves, and teammates, and often see them as a reflection of their coach. Now do I have proof that they compete that way because the coach has influenced them to conduct themselves that way? Or is it because the college coach tends to recruit student-athletes that already reflect his or her own ethical characteristics? As is often the case, a little of both.
When I was coaching, we had a long-standing rivalry with another team in our conference that to me, epitomized how high level competition could be healthy. For reasons that I am not sure of, our games were almost always nail-biters, both teams played with high intensity, but when the game was over, the shaking of hands was always genuine and on the bus or in the locker room after the game, my players would invariably say things like: "I love playing that team because it's always a clean game," "Their players have great sportsmanship," or "that team plays hard but they're never cocky." Not surprisingly, I also had a good, respectful relationship with that team's coach and my players saw that. What got my team fired up and ready to play was not this unbridled hatred toward the other team. It was the expectation of a good game and that my players would have to compete at their highest level to win the game. And I have no doubt that my players played just as hard against them as any other team. I think when athletes have that kind of experience, they walk away with a model of competition as it should be. And I think that happens a lot. It's just not as newsworthy as the incidents where teams or fans are brawling with each other.
Competition itself - like a super power - can be used for good or evil. Kohn makes some compelling arguments about how competition in its rawest form, can negatively impact relationships and hinder growth on a number of levels. But is competition bad simply because it is competition? Or is it only dangerous when it goes unchecked?
But Kohn forces us to look at some assumptions that have been made throughout history, particularly the "sports builds character" mantra that is accepted by some without any critical examination of what that means. Kohn cites a 1971 article by Bruce Ogilvie and Thomas Tutko that was published in Psychology Today entitled "Sport: If You Want to Build Character, Try Something Else." Ogilvie and Tutko discussed in that article a personality profile of 15,000 athletes that showed that they demonstrated a "low interest in receiving support and concern from others, low need to take care for others, and low need for affiliation." They also concluded that those personality traits "seem(ed) necessary to achieve victory over others." Now I haven't read the original article and am not familiar with the Ogilivie/Tutko study but certainly we should always question the demographics of the sample group (particularly gender), what type of sport the subjects played, not to mention all of the other questions one should ask about research such as this before blindly accepting the results. And, of course, the study is now almost 40 years old.
That study aside, this kind of research begs the questions of WHY these personality traits are demonstrated. Unless we buy into the theory that personality is completely established at conception and that character traits are immutable, we have to look at the environments that may help perpetuate these traits. The influence that coaches, teammates, parents, and others have over the competitive environment is significant. So how can we just accept that it is the "competitive environment" is simply detrimental to the moral development of young athletes? Doesn't that completely dismiss the impact of those people around the athletes who manage the competitive experience for them?
Even on the college level, where some would argue that an individual student-athlete's moral foundation has already been set, I see student-athletes all the time who are competing fairly, with respect for their opponents, themselves, and teammates, and often see them as a reflection of their coach. Now do I have proof that they compete that way because the coach has influenced them to conduct themselves that way? Or is it because the college coach tends to recruit student-athletes that already reflect his or her own ethical characteristics? As is often the case, a little of both.
When I was coaching, we had a long-standing rivalry with another team in our conference that to me, epitomized how high level competition could be healthy. For reasons that I am not sure of, our games were almost always nail-biters, both teams played with high intensity, but when the game was over, the shaking of hands was always genuine and on the bus or in the locker room after the game, my players would invariably say things like: "I love playing that team because it's always a clean game," "Their players have great sportsmanship," or "that team plays hard but they're never cocky." Not surprisingly, I also had a good, respectful relationship with that team's coach and my players saw that. What got my team fired up and ready to play was not this unbridled hatred toward the other team. It was the expectation of a good game and that my players would have to compete at their highest level to win the game. And I have no doubt that my players played just as hard against them as any other team. I think when athletes have that kind of experience, they walk away with a model of competition as it should be. And I think that happens a lot. It's just not as newsworthy as the incidents where teams or fans are brawling with each other.
Competition itself - like a super power - can be used for good or evil. Kohn makes some compelling arguments about how competition in its rawest form, can negatively impact relationships and hinder growth on a number of levels. But is competition bad simply because it is competition? Or is it only dangerous when it goes unchecked?
Thursday, March 18, 2010
Women and Children First?
I'm not sure whether or not I can make a connection to sport here or not, but I'll try anyway! The Week magazine recently reported about a study in which Australian researchers looked at what occurred immediately during the minutes and hours during the rescues of the Titanic and the Lusitania. They found that the percentage of women and children who were rescued from the Titanic, which took about 3 hours to sink, was much greater than the percentage of women and children rescued from the Lusitania, which took a mere 18 minutes to sink.
The hypothesis is that altruism is suppressed during those first minutes of crisis when the survival instinct is at its peak. And , once people have the time to ponder their values, that they then make different (in this case, more altruistic) decisions. There are numerous incidents of poor decision-making in sport (and of course, other situations) that are made in the heat of the moment. When the game is on the line, and something goes wrong, there is a strong instinct to react in a more primal way, not always one that is consistent with what one values personally, or even with what is best competitively.
Take, for instance, the age old situation of the basketball player who drives to the basket and misses an easy shot. Her opponent grabs the rebound and, in frustration, the player who missed the shot immediately fouls that player. The coach gets mad, her teammates glare at her, and the player who just fouled walks back down the court hanging her head with the full weight of knowledge that she let some sort of base pissed-off-ness get the better of her. And even in other sports, we know that it's usually the second fouler that gets caught by the official.
Seems like an excellent training ground to teach the benefit of restraint, or perhaps the re-channeling of emotion. Ultimately, a player wants to win. By mastering the emotional part of the game -- recognizing when an instinctual act may harm the team -- an athlete can gain a useful skill that can be used to great advantage outside the bounds of the athletic arena. In a March 9, 2010 posting on Fair Game News, Laura Pappano makes an excellent point about the recent incident where college basketball player Brittney Griner punched an opponent after tangling with her under the basket.
"If we believe competitive sports teach lessons that matter as much off the field as on, then let’s not just sit back and hope lessons emerge. A 19-year-old freshman like Griner may not intuitively be able to handle the pressure (including expectations that she is the future of women’s basketball), without explicit support. If press reports are even half right, Griner will someday be both a superstar and a stand-up person. But players (especially those with targets on their uniforms) must be taught to shrug off trash talk and physical contact under the basket; not everyone is comes to college play with that skill."
Rappano addresses the developmental aspect of this perfectly. Many athletes don't come pre-packaged with that restraint, particularly those under a great deal of pressure to perform. While we can't excuse such behavior, we also need to see it in its developmental context and seek to help athletes gain the skills that will do them good once they enter the working world.
I've coached "hot heads" before. I think I actually was one as an athlete for awhile (at least that's what some of my former coaches have told me). They have their place on a team. They can be inspirational leaders, can bring positive and passionate emotion to a team when it is in the midst of crisis and needs a lift. Learning the skill to channel that instinct of emotion in crisis, so that it helps, not hurts, the team is the trick. It's hard. Being in the middle of a hotly-contested game, for someone who is innately competitive, is a difficult place to cool your head. And sometimes you don't even want to cool your head as much as you want to channel it. Luckily, most careers, seasons, and games, last more than the 18 minutes it took to sink the Lusitania.
I once heard a sports psychologist who worked with Charles Barkley talk about how he helped the basketball player gain control of his emotion during the game. Barkley, who played with lots of emotion ( and still is not a master of restraint when he speaks his mind!) used to get extremely mad at himself when he missed an easy basket or made a stupid mistake. And he couldn't shake that emotion. Using a Keep It Simple Stupid method, the psychologist taught Barkley to, as soon as he made the mistake and started to get mad, say to himself "STOP." This unspoken mantra was powerful for Barkely who, at least according to this psychologist, was able to master his emotion by using the technique and immediately focus on what he had to do next.
I don't think Barkley's next thought after "STOP" led to thoughts about how he could save as many women and children as possible, but it probably allowed him to help his teammates win a few more games.
The hypothesis is that altruism is suppressed during those first minutes of crisis when the survival instinct is at its peak. And , once people have the time to ponder their values, that they then make different (in this case, more altruistic) decisions. There are numerous incidents of poor decision-making in sport (and of course, other situations) that are made in the heat of the moment. When the game is on the line, and something goes wrong, there is a strong instinct to react in a more primal way, not always one that is consistent with what one values personally, or even with what is best competitively.
Take, for instance, the age old situation of the basketball player who drives to the basket and misses an easy shot. Her opponent grabs the rebound and, in frustration, the player who missed the shot immediately fouls that player. The coach gets mad, her teammates glare at her, and the player who just fouled walks back down the court hanging her head with the full weight of knowledge that she let some sort of base pissed-off-ness get the better of her. And even in other sports, we know that it's usually the second fouler that gets caught by the official.
Seems like an excellent training ground to teach the benefit of restraint, or perhaps the re-channeling of emotion. Ultimately, a player wants to win. By mastering the emotional part of the game -- recognizing when an instinctual act may harm the team -- an athlete can gain a useful skill that can be used to great advantage outside the bounds of the athletic arena. In a March 9, 2010 posting on Fair Game News, Laura Pappano makes an excellent point about the recent incident where college basketball player Brittney Griner punched an opponent after tangling with her under the basket.
"If we believe competitive sports teach lessons that matter as much off the field as on, then let’s not just sit back and hope lessons emerge. A 19-year-old freshman like Griner may not intuitively be able to handle the pressure (including expectations that she is the future of women’s basketball), without explicit support. If press reports are even half right, Griner will someday be both a superstar and a stand-up person. But players (especially those with targets on their uniforms) must be taught to shrug off trash talk and physical contact under the basket; not everyone is comes to college play with that skill."
Rappano addresses the developmental aspect of this perfectly. Many athletes don't come pre-packaged with that restraint, particularly those under a great deal of pressure to perform. While we can't excuse such behavior, we also need to see it in its developmental context and seek to help athletes gain the skills that will do them good once they enter the working world.
I've coached "hot heads" before. I think I actually was one as an athlete for awhile (at least that's what some of my former coaches have told me). They have their place on a team. They can be inspirational leaders, can bring positive and passionate emotion to a team when it is in the midst of crisis and needs a lift. Learning the skill to channel that instinct of emotion in crisis, so that it helps, not hurts, the team is the trick. It's hard. Being in the middle of a hotly-contested game, for someone who is innately competitive, is a difficult place to cool your head. And sometimes you don't even want to cool your head as much as you want to channel it. Luckily, most careers, seasons, and games, last more than the 18 minutes it took to sink the Lusitania.
I once heard a sports psychologist who worked with Charles Barkley talk about how he helped the basketball player gain control of his emotion during the game. Barkley, who played with lots of emotion ( and still is not a master of restraint when he speaks his mind!) used to get extremely mad at himself when he missed an easy basket or made a stupid mistake. And he couldn't shake that emotion. Using a Keep It Simple Stupid method, the psychologist taught Barkley to, as soon as he made the mistake and started to get mad, say to himself "STOP." This unspoken mantra was powerful for Barkely who, at least according to this psychologist, was able to master his emotion by using the technique and immediately focus on what he had to do next.
I don't think Barkley's next thought after "STOP" led to thoughts about how he could save as many women and children as possible, but it probably allowed him to help his teammates win a few more games.
Monday, February 8, 2010
A Failure of Imagination?
Although the story is not sport-related, I was intrigued by the recent news about a Rutgers University sorority that found itself in some hot water after allegations of some pretty serious hazing.
Like many sport teams that are built around some admirable goals, this sorority prided itself on community service. I imagine that, like most Greek organizations, they also espoused the virtue of sisterhood and loyalty to the organization. So why, when a group has some values that are, on their face, commendable and beneficial to society as a whole, do they use methods of initiation that are based in power, humiliation, and disrespect? What made the members of this sorority choose to beat their initiates and deprive them of food? It is this chasm of ideals that so baffles us every time we hear of such hazing-related events.
The answers to this question are complex but one quote in this article stood out to me as a blindingly bright example of how revenge, anger, and fear can cloud rational judgment about how people act. The cousin was quoted in this article as saying:
"I wanted to beat them back. Maybe if they got hit, they wouldn’t hit others. They’d know what it felt like."
And this, I believe, is exactly the wrong answer. More than likely, those doing the beating WERE beat themselves when they joined the sorority. They hit because THEY were hit. That is one thing we do know about hazing -- that it is rooted in this sense of perpetuating the suffering. "It was done to me so I will do it to others." Exactly the kind of thinking that those of us who work in education try relentlessly to challenge. It's not done overnight. The culture of these organizations and the perpetuation of hazing relies on members operating completely within the context of the organization. It discourages critical moral thinking (despite all of the "community service" that these groups are involved in) and punishes those who don't comply.
Teaching moral decision-making in this context is a huge challenge. For athletes, they often see hazing not only as a way to achieve team bonding, but also to encourage "toughness" which, in the right context, is a useful virtue for an athlete to possess. And it may be possible that, without guidance, athletes make an illogical leap between what challenges a coach imposes on players to instill toughness and acts of hazing that they impose on their own teammates. Maybe they just can't think of a better way to create team bonding. Or possibly, they see growth as coming only through unadulterated hardship or punishment. Initiating new players into a team thus becomes about fear and power, not about love of the game or respect for individuals.
I recently read David Wroblewski's 2008 novel, The Story of Edgar Sawtelle, a wonderful and, at times, gut-wrenching read. And please know that I am in no way equating the training of dogs (a major theme of the novel) with the molding of young athletes, but this passage jumped out at me:
"She didn't think that the lessons from dog training always transferred to people, but it was the nature of things that if you punished anyone, dog or boy, when they got close to a thing, they'd get it in their head the thing was bad. She'd seen people ruin dogs too many time...Not finding a variation on the same task, not coming at things from a different angle, not making the dog relish whatever it was that had to be done, was a failure of the imaginations." (p. 298)
Imagination, mixed in with some empathy and respect for others, might be a key in breaking the chain of hazing.
Like many sport teams that are built around some admirable goals, this sorority prided itself on community service. I imagine that, like most Greek organizations, they also espoused the virtue of sisterhood and loyalty to the organization. So why, when a group has some values that are, on their face, commendable and beneficial to society as a whole, do they use methods of initiation that are based in power, humiliation, and disrespect? What made the members of this sorority choose to beat their initiates and deprive them of food? It is this chasm of ideals that so baffles us every time we hear of such hazing-related events.
The answers to this question are complex but one quote in this article stood out to me as a blindingly bright example of how revenge, anger, and fear can cloud rational judgment about how people act. The cousin was quoted in this article as saying:
"I wanted to beat them back. Maybe if they got hit, they wouldn’t hit others. They’d know what it felt like."
And this, I believe, is exactly the wrong answer. More than likely, those doing the beating WERE beat themselves when they joined the sorority. They hit because THEY were hit. That is one thing we do know about hazing -- that it is rooted in this sense of perpetuating the suffering. "It was done to me so I will do it to others." Exactly the kind of thinking that those of us who work in education try relentlessly to challenge. It's not done overnight. The culture of these organizations and the perpetuation of hazing relies on members operating completely within the context of the organization. It discourages critical moral thinking (despite all of the "community service" that these groups are involved in) and punishes those who don't comply.
Teaching moral decision-making in this context is a huge challenge. For athletes, they often see hazing not only as a way to achieve team bonding, but also to encourage "toughness" which, in the right context, is a useful virtue for an athlete to possess. And it may be possible that, without guidance, athletes make an illogical leap between what challenges a coach imposes on players to instill toughness and acts of hazing that they impose on their own teammates. Maybe they just can't think of a better way to create team bonding. Or possibly, they see growth as coming only through unadulterated hardship or punishment. Initiating new players into a team thus becomes about fear and power, not about love of the game or respect for individuals.
I recently read David Wroblewski's 2008 novel, The Story of Edgar Sawtelle, a wonderful and, at times, gut-wrenching read. And please know that I am in no way equating the training of dogs (a major theme of the novel) with the molding of young athletes, but this passage jumped out at me:
"She didn't think that the lessons from dog training always transferred to people, but it was the nature of things that if you punished anyone, dog or boy, when they got close to a thing, they'd get it in their head the thing was bad. She'd seen people ruin dogs too many time...Not finding a variation on the same task, not coming at things from a different angle, not making the dog relish whatever it was that had to be done, was a failure of the imaginations." (p. 298)
Imagination, mixed in with some empathy and respect for others, might be a key in breaking the chain of hazing.
Monday, January 25, 2010
Measuring the Moral Reasoning of Athletes
The University of Idaho's Center for ETHICS (Ethical Theory and Honor in Competition and Sport) is the home for a great deal of both theoretical and action research about moral and ethical reasoning and development in sport. The center's Hahm-Beller Values Choice Inventory (HBVCI) measures moral reasoning in athletes and they have assessed over 80,000 individuals (ranging from high school students through adults) using this instrument and the findings are compelling (more on the findings later).
But one of the items on this survey stood out to me because of its uncanny similarity to the now-famous "hand ball" incident that occurred in the World Cup qualifier game between France and Ireland late last year. Thierry's hand ball led directly to a France score which tied the game and effectively eliminated Ireland from the World Cup. The item on the HBVCI reads as follows:
"Question 1: Male soccer players are allowed to play the ball with any part of their body except the hands or outstretched arms. A soccer player receives a chest high pass and taps the ball to the ground with his hand. The referee does not see this action and the play continues, Because it is the referee's job to see these actions, the player is not obligated to report his foul."
Survey participants are asked to indicate their level of agreement with the last two sentences by noting whether they "Strongly Agree," "Agree," are "Neutral," "Disagree," or "Strongly Disagree." If I am not mistaken, those who strongly agree are demonstrating a lower level of moral reasoning than those who strongly disagree. I think what makes this a worthy point of discussion is that the focus is squarely on the direct connection between decisions made in an athletic setting and the moral development of the athlete making those decisions. This is not about what is "practical" in the game of sport or what behavior seems to best fit in the context of sport as we know it. It's a question that directly accesses someone's moral decision making in an athletic setting.
Overall, their findings (summarized here) show that males in team sports demonstrate the lowest moral reasoning scores. Athletes in individual sports demonstrate higher levels of moral reasoning than those in team sports. And the longer that women are involved in team sport competition, the more their moral reasoning appears to erode.
OK, there are so many directions to move in here and I'll stop for now. Food for thought and a future posting.
But one of the items on this survey stood out to me because of its uncanny similarity to the now-famous "hand ball" incident that occurred in the World Cup qualifier game between France and Ireland late last year. Thierry's hand ball led directly to a France score which tied the game and effectively eliminated Ireland from the World Cup. The item on the HBVCI reads as follows:
"Question 1: Male soccer players are allowed to play the ball with any part of their body except the hands or outstretched arms. A soccer player receives a chest high pass and taps the ball to the ground with his hand. The referee does not see this action and the play continues, Because it is the referee's job to see these actions, the player is not obligated to report his foul."
Survey participants are asked to indicate their level of agreement with the last two sentences by noting whether they "Strongly Agree," "Agree," are "Neutral," "Disagree," or "Strongly Disagree." If I am not mistaken, those who strongly agree are demonstrating a lower level of moral reasoning than those who strongly disagree. I think what makes this a worthy point of discussion is that the focus is squarely on the direct connection between decisions made in an athletic setting and the moral development of the athlete making those decisions. This is not about what is "practical" in the game of sport or what behavior seems to best fit in the context of sport as we know it. It's a question that directly accesses someone's moral decision making in an athletic setting.
Overall, their findings (summarized here) show that males in team sports demonstrate the lowest moral reasoning scores. Athletes in individual sports demonstrate higher levels of moral reasoning than those in team sports. And the longer that women are involved in team sport competition, the more their moral reasoning appears to erode.
OK, there are so many directions to move in here and I'll stop for now. Food for thought and a future posting.
Sunday, January 10, 2010
Breaking the Unwritten Rule
I was interested to read the comments of the coach of the Yates High School (Houston, TX) boys basketball team after the media and public response to his team's 170-35 shellacking of another team on January 5, 2010. Greg Wise, the coach of this obviously talented team, responded to criticism by saying:
"The real story isn’t getting out, and that’s what hurts me. If you are interested in breaking records, that’s not the main focus of high school sports. That’s not the stuff I’m teaching my kids. Nobody shows me taking kids home in an impoverished area where there is gang violence, or calling kids before school and telling them to get on the bus. Nobody shows them doing study hall before school. It’s crazy.”
His frustration is not unlike that of many whose stories are reported by the media with an eye toward simplicity, sensation, and what will grab the attention of a CNN Headline News viewer. But I have to ask, how would showing his players in study hall contribute to a well-balanced view of this issue? As far as I can figure, the issue at stake is one of sportsmanship, a commitment to the unspoken, unwritten contract that two high school teams enter into when they play each other. That contract, as I see it, includes the assumption that both teams will play hard, play fairly, and will treat each other with respect. Pressing, running the break, and allowing starters to play when you have a 100-point lead is not respect. Even if you are a regular participant in study hall.
I will allow that there is some gray area when it comes to "running up the score." There are countless stories of teams that were soundly beating another team, let up, and then ended up losing the game. But this doesn't look gray to me. It looks as black and white as a Holstein (and smells just as bad). And why do I think this is one of the more blatant acts of unsportsmanship I've seen lately? In part, because it is disregards one of the most important elements of team competition: that the game simply wouldn't exist without the full participation of two teams. The Yates team relied on the other team to even have a game (and the referees too, of course). They couldn't achieve any of their goals if the other team didn't exist, show up, or play. Unlike, say, pole vaulting, they couldn't score their hoped-for 200 points and have it count for anything if there wasn't an opponent (and I don't know enough about international track and field to know whether or not a pole vaulter actually needs to have opponents for his or her vault count, but let's say for argument, that they don't).
We can rationalize such running up the score, particularly in professional sports, for all sorts of reasons. But this coach's rationale is weak at best. In fact, his argument doesn't even address whether or not what his team was wrong. He deflects the issue by saying "My players and I do all of these other admirable things so you should ignore this particular act." Like many "rules of the game," not running up the score is unwritten. And these unwritten rules are most vulnerable to abuse since they are followed only when teams and coaches demonstrate thought, restraint, and discretion. This is REALLY hard in a competitive arena. How do you tell competitive players not to score or to play soft when all of their training has been geared toward the exact opposite?
No doubt, successful athletes have the "killer instinct." Successful professional athletes almost as a rule, need to have that characteristic. But to cultivate that at the high school level to such a degree that the utter humiliation experienced by the other team isn't even recognized, is a disservice to all involved in high school sports. The chance to blow out another team (and resist the temptation) is a great teaching moment. It is an opportune time to instill in players that competition and at least some level of empathy are not mutually exclusive. And it's a great time to demonstrate the honor of respecting another team's presence and participation in the game.
"The real story isn’t getting out, and that’s what hurts me. If you are interested in breaking records, that’s not the main focus of high school sports. That’s not the stuff I’m teaching my kids. Nobody shows me taking kids home in an impoverished area where there is gang violence, or calling kids before school and telling them to get on the bus. Nobody shows them doing study hall before school. It’s crazy.”
His frustration is not unlike that of many whose stories are reported by the media with an eye toward simplicity, sensation, and what will grab the attention of a CNN Headline News viewer. But I have to ask, how would showing his players in study hall contribute to a well-balanced view of this issue? As far as I can figure, the issue at stake is one of sportsmanship, a commitment to the unspoken, unwritten contract that two high school teams enter into when they play each other. That contract, as I see it, includes the assumption that both teams will play hard, play fairly, and will treat each other with respect. Pressing, running the break, and allowing starters to play when you have a 100-point lead is not respect. Even if you are a regular participant in study hall.
I will allow that there is some gray area when it comes to "running up the score." There are countless stories of teams that were soundly beating another team, let up, and then ended up losing the game. But this doesn't look gray to me. It looks as black and white as a Holstein (and smells just as bad). And why do I think this is one of the more blatant acts of unsportsmanship I've seen lately? In part, because it is disregards one of the most important elements of team competition: that the game simply wouldn't exist without the full participation of two teams. The Yates team relied on the other team to even have a game (and the referees too, of course). They couldn't achieve any of their goals if the other team didn't exist, show up, or play. Unlike, say, pole vaulting, they couldn't score their hoped-for 200 points and have it count for anything if there wasn't an opponent (and I don't know enough about international track and field to know whether or not a pole vaulter actually needs to have opponents for his or her vault count, but let's say for argument, that they don't).
We can rationalize such running up the score, particularly in professional sports, for all sorts of reasons. But this coach's rationale is weak at best. In fact, his argument doesn't even address whether or not what his team was wrong. He deflects the issue by saying "My players and I do all of these other admirable things so you should ignore this particular act." Like many "rules of the game," not running up the score is unwritten. And these unwritten rules are most vulnerable to abuse since they are followed only when teams and coaches demonstrate thought, restraint, and discretion. This is REALLY hard in a competitive arena. How do you tell competitive players not to score or to play soft when all of their training has been geared toward the exact opposite?
No doubt, successful athletes have the "killer instinct." Successful professional athletes almost as a rule, need to have that characteristic. But to cultivate that at the high school level to such a degree that the utter humiliation experienced by the other team isn't even recognized, is a disservice to all involved in high school sports. The chance to blow out another team (and resist the temptation) is a great teaching moment. It is an opportune time to instill in players that competition and at least some level of empathy are not mutually exclusive. And it's a great time to demonstrate the honor of respecting another team's presence and participation in the game.
Monday, January 4, 2010
Motivation or Abuse?
Mike Leach, the Texas Tech football coach, was recently fired amid allegations of abuse toward players (really one player in particular). Leach allegedly told an athletic trainer to have a player, who had recently been diagnosed with a concussion, go stand in a dark room and stand alone for the duration of practice. It's not clear to me exactly what the connection there is but there are indications that the player was not on Leach's good side (which I kind of hope is true because if not, I shudder to think of what he might do to players who pissed him off).
The relationship between coach and player can, at its best, be life changing, transformative, and highly educational. But like any other relationship it can go bad. And the potential for it to slide from one of unequal power into abuse is ever-present. Acts like Leach's illustrate what happens when a coach chooses to use his power and act out in a way that has no resemblance to sound discipline or education. Coaches are generally given more freedom to do what they think necessary to help a player and team become "better." When I was a college coach, I secretly loved the idea that every once in awhile I could say to an underperforming player, "get your head out of your ass!" when my faculty friends would likely be hauled into the Provost's office for saying anything resembling that comment to a student. I'm sure that secretly they too would like to walk over to an inattentive (ok, sleeping) student and suddenly bellow into their ear "GET YOUR HEAD OUT OF YOUR ASS!" Alas, only a coach (or a drill sergeant) is given the leeway to say such things and still be applauded as an excellent motivator.
In the context of sports, yelling (and sometimes swearing) at young men and women is not always considered abusive. Occasionally, when it gets excessive (or just too quiet in the gym when the expletive flies) it is considered in bad taste. But rarely abusive. But highly successful coaches (and by successful I don't mean wins and losses as much as helping challenge young men and women to become better people) rarely scream and yell all the time and most certainly, they don't lock their players in a dark room to teach them...something.
As a coach, I didn't assign the dirty jobs to the freshmen. I had everybody do the dirty jobs (myself and my assistants included) and do them together. Coaches who always assign the grunt work to the freshman are thinking that they are somehow helping these newbies earn their stripes. But what are they really learning? And will they learn more by carrying the water themselves than if they do it with an upperclassmen? To me, building team is building a whole team. Not segments of a team in the hopes that they will then come together magically on game day. In fact, instead of letting seniors sit back and get waited on by the freshman, I often assigned seniors and captains some of the least desirable jobs (cleaning the van after a long road trip, for instance). To me, that sent the message that with seniority and power, came responsibility to do things for the entire team. Freshmen saw that and instead of feeling pushed around, saw a future obligation and the notion that leadership was not about directing others to do your work. It was about chipping in and helping the whole team.
To come full circle, you have to wonder what Leach thought he was accomplishing. It seems to be nothing short of retribution or punishment without a modicum of education. Of course, I don't know the full context. But to me, this is one of those things that I'll draw a line in the sand. I -- and many of the outstanding coaches I have come across in my career -- would never consider doing something like what Leach did. And I promise that if I ever get a chance to teach in the classroom, I will never tell a student to get his head out of his ass. Unless of course, I'm teaching veterinary medicine and my student really has his head in his ass.
The relationship between coach and player can, at its best, be life changing, transformative, and highly educational. But like any other relationship it can go bad. And the potential for it to slide from one of unequal power into abuse is ever-present. Acts like Leach's illustrate what happens when a coach chooses to use his power and act out in a way that has no resemblance to sound discipline or education. Coaches are generally given more freedom to do what they think necessary to help a player and team become "better." When I was a college coach, I secretly loved the idea that every once in awhile I could say to an underperforming player, "get your head out of your ass!" when my faculty friends would likely be hauled into the Provost's office for saying anything resembling that comment to a student. I'm sure that secretly they too would like to walk over to an inattentive (ok, sleeping) student and suddenly bellow into their ear "GET YOUR HEAD OUT OF YOUR ASS!" Alas, only a coach (or a drill sergeant) is given the leeway to say such things and still be applauded as an excellent motivator.
In the context of sports, yelling (and sometimes swearing) at young men and women is not always considered abusive. Occasionally, when it gets excessive (or just too quiet in the gym when the expletive flies) it is considered in bad taste. But rarely abusive. But highly successful coaches (and by successful I don't mean wins and losses as much as helping challenge young men and women to become better people) rarely scream and yell all the time and most certainly, they don't lock their players in a dark room to teach them...something.
As a coach, I didn't assign the dirty jobs to the freshmen. I had everybody do the dirty jobs (myself and my assistants included) and do them together. Coaches who always assign the grunt work to the freshman are thinking that they are somehow helping these newbies earn their stripes. But what are they really learning? And will they learn more by carrying the water themselves than if they do it with an upperclassmen? To me, building team is building a whole team. Not segments of a team in the hopes that they will then come together magically on game day. In fact, instead of letting seniors sit back and get waited on by the freshman, I often assigned seniors and captains some of the least desirable jobs (cleaning the van after a long road trip, for instance). To me, that sent the message that with seniority and power, came responsibility to do things for the entire team. Freshmen saw that and instead of feeling pushed around, saw a future obligation and the notion that leadership was not about directing others to do your work. It was about chipping in and helping the whole team.
To come full circle, you have to wonder what Leach thought he was accomplishing. It seems to be nothing short of retribution or punishment without a modicum of education. Of course, I don't know the full context. But to me, this is one of those things that I'll draw a line in the sand. I -- and many of the outstanding coaches I have come across in my career -- would never consider doing something like what Leach did. And I promise that if I ever get a chance to teach in the classroom, I will never tell a student to get his head out of his ass. Unless of course, I'm teaching veterinary medicine and my student really has his head in his ass.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)