Managers’ words can either arm or wound players
Enough has been written about Giovanni Trapattoni’s tactical conservatism that cost us a rare home win against fellow mid-tier European opposition: the non-introduction of Wes Hoolohan and the non-substitution of Conor Sammon, the substitution of Shane Long and the introduction of Paul Green.
What alarmed us most was a recent Kevin Kilbane revelation that during his time playing under the Italian, Trap hardly ever spoke at half-time.
I’ve been in dressing rooms all around the country in my other capacity as a performance psychology consultant and one issue that teams and managers constantly review is how effectively they use half-time.
What individual players need is some quiet instruction? Do you keep calm if they’re not playing that well or do they need a jolt of righteous anger? Are you offering them just noise and not enough information?
It doesn’t matter the grade or the sport: Junior B GAA teams or sides that have played All-Ireland finals in September, they nearly all look to make optimum use of that pivotal window.
It is frightening to think so that our national team, with a manager being paid such a massive salary doesn’t engage in the kind of humbling, practical reflective practice that coaches at even grassroots level in any sport would. The more the Trapattoni era was meant to go on, the less a problem the language barrier was supposed to be. The opposite has proven the case.
Even for coaches speaking in their primary language, language is always an issue. The best coaches are hugely conscious of the language they use interacting with their players, knowing words are weapons and that they can either arm or wound a player.
For the last few weeks America has been gripped by March Madness, the NCAA college basketball tournament which concludes next weekend with the Final Four in Atlanta. An increasing number of Irish people have also been following the tournament, now with the availability of ESPN on our Sky boxes.
During the multiple ads any viewer of American sport is invariably subjected to, the channel regularly recalls glorious moments in NCAA history with brief interviews involving the chief actors of the drama. Particularly high on the rotation is a moment from 21 years ago this week when Christian Laettner hit a game-winning shot on the buzzer against Kentucky to send Duke University to the Final Four. Though Laettner was the man who took the shot, Coach Mike Krzyzewski, the man all of America knows simply as Coach K, was just as much a hero. With 2.1 seconds to go his team were down a point and had to inbound the ball from under their own basket. It seemed impossible that they would score. But as Laettner would recall, Coach K in his timeout huddle broke it down into pieces.
First he turned to Grant Hill, the team’s other star player. “Grant, can you throw the ball to here (the opposite free-throw line)?” Hill nodded. Yes.
Then Krzyzewski turned to Laettner. “And Christian, can you catch it?”
Laettner nodded too. Yes, he could. “Well, then,” said his coach, “if we do that, we have a real shot at winning here.”
All of America knows what happened next. If you don’t, just watch it here. (http:// www.youtube.com/watch?v=Uo3G2MfOYeA)
Reflecting on it many years later, Coach K would say that the key to his timeout huddle was using the word “can”. All of a sudden it didn’t sound like an order to his players. It didn’t seem impossible. The optional was suddenly very possible. Yes, they could.
All the best managers create visions for their players with carefully-crafted language. Though Jim McGuinness mightn’t want you reading it, the book This Is Our Year is a testament to his mastery of language. Before Donegal’s landmark 2011 All Ireland semi-final against Dublin, he didn’t tell his players that they “had” to get men behind the ball and “if” they would, Dublin “could” struggle. He told them “when” they got men behind the ball, Dublin “would” struggle.
“They’ll start kicking crazy wides, the Brogans are going to shoot from anywhere. They’re going to get frustrated and they won’t be able to understand why they can’t break you down.”
Soccer is one sport where for awhile you can get away with not even speaking the same language as the players: nearly every club dressing room at the top level is multi-national.
If a foreign coach brings tactical knowledge and structure as Trap did, then on the training ground and the tactical board and the scoreboard, gains can be made and seen.
But, to keep making gains over the years, such subtleties and basics as the language you use count. Trap has been unable – and unwilling – to provide that. Which is another reason why, at the end of this campaign, he’ll have everyone telling him a word everyone will clearly understand. Ciao.
