Coaching Philosophy 3.0

This season I played a more active role in coaching. After a one-year hiatus, I took upon the role of coaching the U17s team at Salisbury Inter. Despite coaching these girls two years ago, this year was different – I was the sole head coach. And admittedly I had more time than I did in 2021. What was the result? Coaching consumed me this year – I found that in my spare time I’d be reading threads on Twitter or LinkedIn, anything that challenged or inspired the way I coached. I also took more of an active role within my WNPL side – constantly analysing training sessions and games, wondering how I could improve sessions or what I thought the team needed to work on. I feel like I’m in a golden era because I’m able to both play and coach – so everything I do I’m analysing from both perspectives. As a player, how do I find this? As a coach, how would I address this? The beauty too of playing and coaching is that I still have the connections with my teammates as they see me as their captain rather than coach. I think when you officially transition into the latter, a barrier often arises which hinders your learnings of their feelings.

So why am I revisiting my philosophy now? Although I still firmly believe in everything I wrote back in 2020 (which forms the basis of my coaching philosophy), I wanted to shift my attention to more soccer principles. This year has been pivotal in cementing my desire to coach at a higher level. I have thoroughly enjoyed coaching juniors, and there’ll always be a large part of me that enjoys connecting and mentoring these young girls. But as an individual, I thrive on learning. And that’s where I’m at – I want to learn. I’m still a very young coach in the sense that I don’t know a lot about soccer. But I want to learn. I want to learn from others who do the things I can’t. From coaches who know things I don’t. Especially with regards to technical and tactical knowledge of the game. Sure, I could go through the process of getting my coaching licenses (which I inevitably will do), but I think we can learn so much more from experts around us. From coaches who have had ‘success’ – not with their results, but with their connections and retention of players.

How do you define success as a coach? Most people probably look at a coach’s coaching history and evaluate their ability based on the trophies they’ve won – but is that all there is to coaching? One thing that I find really hard to do is to distinguish whether a team is successful because they’re a great team or because they had a great coach. The reality is, there’s no way to know the influence a coach has had on a team. There’s no way to know whether a coach has truly helped a player develop, or whether they’re developing naturally because of exposure and increased playing time. For example, I look at the players I coached this year and all of them have improved from where they were two seasons ago. But that’s not because of me. Some of these girls are doing things I’ve never taught them to do. So I can’t take credit for their development – that’s all them. All I have done though, is create an environment which has seemingly been conducive for their development. So how then, can you determine if a coach is a decent coach? My litmus test is threefold – do players learn and improve, individually and collectively? (Development). Are players motivated to do more; are they engaged? (Motivation). And do players want to play for the same coach again? (Retention).

I know as a coach I don’t have the technical knowledge, yet, to really help players improve technically. What I can do though, is create a safe environment. An environment in which these individuals feel comfortable trying new things without the fear of being yelled at. That comes to the core of my philosophy – safety. Without safety, no one can reach their excellence. Without safety, people are focusing on surviving rather than thriving. Players know when they’ve made a mistake. The worst thing you can do as a coach is yell at that player for it. If a player repeatedly makes the same mistake, over and over, I believe it’s then the coach’s duty to coach that player. They’re not making a mistake because they want to, but because they lack the knowledge or the skill to do otherwise. As a coach, you need to look at where are they making the mistake? What part of the field? When are they making the mistake – under pressure or no pressure? What is happening before they make this mistake? Are they aware of what’s around them (an information issue)? Or are they simply choosing the wrong pass / making the wrong decision? If the latter, why? What have I been communicating to my players?

When giving feedback, quite often coaches give generic phrases, “You turn the ball over too much,” without considering the environment. When does this happen, and why does this happen? Is it possible the player doesn’t have other options? Is it possible that in a coach communicating “play directly” that that is contributing to a higher turn over rate? As a coach, the first thing you must do is look inward. What role have I played in this individual’s mistake? What role have I played in this team’s performance? What can I do to ensure this doesn’t happen again? What can I do to get the best out of this individual player? Self-awareness then, is a core quality that I value. So too an openness for being wrong.

All coaches are human. And part of being human means making mistakes. There have been multiple times already in my coaching career where I have admitted that I was wrong. Whether it was the approach I took with the team, tactical decisions I made on game day, or overlooking a player for a team in which she should have been selected for. The beauty of admitting your mistakes is that it humanises you. And by humanising yourself, you build trust. You build rapport. You build connection. But you also defuse the situation. It’s very hard to be angry at someone who admits they fucked up. But again, this all requires individuals to be introspective.

As mentioned in my previous coaching philosophy, my coaching style is very much a Q&A style. At the end of the day, I don’t know everything. And there’s a high chance players are able to see something on the field that I can’t. By asking them questions, they’re then engaged. They’re contributing to the team and the solution. They’re also then developing their own critical thinking skills. I ask questions like, “where are we vulnerable?” or “how does the opposition look like they’re going to score?” Then I might ask, “how do we prevent that? What do we need to do?”. My role as a coach isn’t being a dictator, it’s being a facilitator. Creating an environment in which individuals solve their own problems. The more engaged players are, the more empowered they feel, and the more connected they are to playing for each other (see Patrick Lencioni’s Five Dysfunctions of a Team).

For most of my life I’ve been overlooked for teams based on what I can’t do – on the fact that my GPS data doesn’t show a maximum speed of 28km/h or higher. For that reason, I refuse to be a narrow-minded coach. I will select players for what they can do. If a player doesn’t have speed, I guarantee they’re probably smarter than a player who does have speed. I don’t care for GPS data. I don’t care for fitness tests. I don’t care about anything other than a player’s effectiveness on the field. What I mean by this is (e.g. for a centre back), how often is this player beaten? How often does the opposition play through our defence? How many goals are we conceding? Assessing a player’s ability based on arbitrary data that few people can actually change is limiting and narrow-minded. Lionel Messi ran the least distance out of any player at the men’s world cup but guess what? He was still the best player. Speed, distance, high speed running, none of that guarantees an effective, influential player.

In regards to fitness testing, the reason I don’t care for them is because what do coaches even use them for anyway? As a player, never has a coach used fitness tests as a reason not to play me. Nor have they tailored my conditioning based on the results. I find testing to be an unnecessary anxiety-provoking element of the game, yet few have questioned its relevance. If a player has an excellent running style, I guarantee they’ll excel in testing. But how does that correlate to their effectiveness on the field? How does that relate to their ability to run out 90mins? How does that relate to this concept of being fit for football? What this means is their ability to make the same quality decision in the 90th minute as they were able to in the first minute. How does running a beep test or yo-yo test translate to making better decisions? It doesn’t. The best way to get fit for football is to actually play football. Not lifting weights in the gym, not running 1km time trials, no, the best and only way to get conditioned to play a game of football is to just play.

Another aspect of my coaching style that I want to challenge for others is this concept of ‘pretty football’. Many coaches have an obsession with wanting to keep possession because they claim it’s ‘nice to watch’. Japan vs Spain in the Women’s World Cup – Spain had 77% possession but lost 4-0. Possession doesn’t guarantee results. Yes, you need the ball to score. But why do you need to make 20 passes before you can score? What isn’t pretty about playing a well-weighted ball over the top to a striker? I again argue the effectiveness of the former. As a coach, I’m looking at playing in a way that creates the most opportunities to score and the least opportunities to concede – however that looks, I don’t care.

Games are invariably won and lost by a team’s ability to convert their chances. In regards to training, how much time do you devote to shooting? Quite often coaches will probably say less than 20%. If soccer is all about scoring, why then do we devote such little time to practicing that? For that reason, almost all of the drills I design will have an element of shooting and scoring. Keeping possession, again, means nothing if players can’t convert their chances.

As a coach, what I’m looking for in a player is intelligence. How are they able to maximise their strengths, whilst minimising the exposure of their weaknesses. Better yet, how are they able to exploit the weaknesses of an opposition? What are they doing when every other player has mentally ‘switched off’. Are they looking for the quick throw in? The short corner? Intelligence will win you games you potentially ‘shouldn’t’ win. The other qualities I look for in a player relate to my three non-negotiables: work ethic, attitude, and body language. These are three qualities players are always in control over. Players can’t control the mistakes they make, but they can control their reaction. Do they work hard to win the ball back, or are they taken out of their game because of negative body language? The best player to me is not the player who scores the most goals, but the player who makes all other players better. That’s the type of player I want playing for me. The player who sacrifices personal glory for the team. And sometimes these players don’t step a foot on the field. Quite often your most important players are actually your bench players. Why? Because they determine the culture of the team. Are they pushing the starting players to be better by challenging for their positions? Are they positive on the bench? Or are they resentful, bitter, negative? How a coach manages the players who don’t play communicates a lot about their ability to coach. How are they keeping these players engaged and motivated? What conversations are they having? Are they being honest and transparent, or selling lies because they want to avoid a difficult conversation? I read somewhere that the success of your life is directly proportional to your willingness to have difficult conversations. Are they uncomfortable? Absolutely. But they’re necessary. And again, they make you human.

I know I don’t know everything there is to know about coaching, but I am willing to learn. I also admit that many of the statements I’ve claimed here have the potential to change – and that’s okay too. As humans, we’re constantly evolving. Which is why I believe it’s important to intentionally revisit the things we believe to ensure that is still what we believe. That is what I have tried to do here. If you’re interested in reading just how much my philosophy has evolved, please read my former posts; Coaching Philosophy 2.0 and Challenging Coaching.

hey, how are you?

how many times do you think you say this phrase throughout a day? i say phrase rather than question because i'm really not sure we're ever actually genuinely asking, how are you? it's more of a nicety, a social norm. you don't just say "hey" or "hello" (or in my case, "howdy") but it's always followed by a "how's it going" "how are you today". on the surface, this is a nice thing to do, right? but is it possible this unconscious conditioning is actually harmful to our wellbeing?

i was prompted to think about this upon meeting two Germans at the cafe i work at. in attempt to display my limited knowledge of German i said, "Guten tag, wie geht's dir?" (which translates to "hello, how are you?"). these ladies were very quick to tell me not to use that phrase in Germany. curious, i asked them why. "because we don't ask that question unless we genuinely want to know how someone is. here, in Australia, we get asked it all the time. but no one actually cares for the answer."

i've often thought this too. how many times have you been asked, how are you? and felt that the asker is genuinely interested in your answer? not to mention, how do you answer that question? am i the only one who ever feels overwhelmed by what seems like a simple question? how am i - in this moment? how am i - today? how am i - mentally? physically? emotionally? how am i - doing in life in general? because the truth is, how we are changes moment to moment. and the answer can rarely be succinctly wrapped up in a quick reply.

i think what i'm trying to get at with this post is that we've lost the ability to check in with others. we've become so addicted to superficiality, to convenience, that we have forgotten to stop and check in with those around us. and admittedly, i've fallen victim to this too. i can't remember the last time i caught up with a friend and i asked them how they're doing, in general. our phones have made us more accessible, but less connected. we feel content going months without seeing friends and only communicating through a screen. but a screen is so impersonal. and i don't know about others, but i'm horrible at replying. i don't want to talk about my life through digital characters. i want to articulate my thoughts, in person, where i know i have the other person's full attention.

maybe all of this comes down to the lost art of friendship. numerous studies have shown that the number of people we feel we can depend on in a crisis has steadily declined over the past 10-20 years. it used to be 5, now most people feel like they don't even have one person they could call upon - why is that? when was the last time you felt truly seen or heard by a friend? now let's flip that, when was the last time you truly heard and saw a friend? texting doesn't suffice. and it's killing our connections with others.

i've found that being in a relationship is both the best and worst thing to happen to people and friendships. best thing, because invariably individuals become a better version of themselves - they feel more secure, settled, fulfilled. worse though, because often people become less intentional. their needs are being met by their partner, so why venture out and communicate with friends? when someone is single, their friendships are their livelihood - they're a necessity. but when people get into relationships, friendships almost feel like an inconvenience. they take effort. and in a world that is becoming increasingly more dependent on convenience and instant gratification, it's no wonder that our friendships are being neglected. but at what cost?

i for one know that i'm lonely. i'm in a very loving and supporting relationship, which fulfills almost all of my needs, but i still find myself missing my friends. i miss our thought-provoking chats. i miss the learning of others' lives. i miss the connections. i think as we get older, it becomes too easy to forget about our friends and too hard to make effort. but we need to. humans need friends. we're social creatures and we can't rely upon one person to fulfill all of our needs. i've had many friendships over the years dissipate into nothingness and i'm still, to this date, at a loss for how it happened. i've found losing a friend hurts more than losing a partner. often with a partner we can rationalise that we weren't compatible, but for a friend? it's a lot harder to understand. especially because there's often no closure - people terminate friendships not intentionally, but by conveniently ignoring communications i.e. ghosting them.

the more that technology continues to dominate society, the more that we need to be intentional with those in our lives. sending a message 'checking in' doesn't suffice. people need people. the only way to feel truly connected to others is by spending time with them and asking the hard questions. but more importantly, listening to their answers. connections are born in vulnerability. but the only way for others to be vulnerable is to be intentional about creating an environment where others share their humanness. we need to get back to the basics. we need to learn how to be better friends again.

the matthew effect

last week, i received an email from a w-league club inviting me to a trial. i had sent out my highlight reel from pre-season and the first half of my wnpl season to the majority of w-league clubs (in which i had contacts) back in june. for the clubs that replied, the response was a resounding 'no'. but here was a club that offered me a chance - a trial. a glimmer of hope. fantastic right? people all around me, "it's fantastic you're finally getting recognised. even if nothing comes from this, it's a step in the right direction." but is it?

perhaps i'm cynical, or perhaps i'm merely realistic. i initially had a conflict on the date of the trial and asked if there were any other opportunities to trial. but there wasn't. so i knew that whatever chance i had relied entirely on this one trial. so, i cancelled my presentation, booked flights, accommodation, and a car - all at my own expense - and flew over to sydney.

twenty-two girls were trialling. and from what i know, only for a few spots. was a centreback one of those positions? i'll never know. what i do know, is all of these girls were in their early 20s and i was an outlier at 30. the majority of the girls, including myself, had played games less than 24 hours prior to this trial and would then be playing 3x15mins full-sized games (after an extensive warm up). for the youth, no problem. for me, more of a problem.

there's a few things i really hate about 'trials' - the main thing though, is the trepidation that leads into it. there's no interview, there's no personal introduction with anyone, you're literally being judged entirely on what you can and can't do. and for anyone who's read any of my work, a trial probably isn't going to feel like the safest environment to excel. you're probably going to be more focused on not making mistakes than you are on trying anything to make you stand out. and in essence, that's how my trial went. i didn't stand out. i played it 'safe'. as a centreback in a comfortable environment, i take risks. i push up. i play the 'high risk, high reward' ball often. but in this trial, i didn't have familiarity with teammates, so i tried my best to just keep the ball. and i did. but a coach isn't going to select you for playing it 'safe'. a lot of what makes me the player i am are the moments that aren't always replicable, especially in a trial. it's the desperation to block a shot, it's the goal from a corner, it's the slide to intercept a pass - but none of those opportunities presented themselves monday night. so in the eyes of the coaching staff, i undoubtedly looked very average.

hope is a funny thing. people say it's a positive, but i've always thought it to be destructive. the buddhists say suffering comes from expectation and i would extend that to say suffering comes from hope too. this trial offered hope. but it's also opened the door for disappointment, again. when coaches say 'no' without having a look at you, you don't lose anything. it's a lot easier to accept and justify as them just not liking your highlight reel. but when you trial and don't succeed, it's harder to reason. it's harder to not internalise. they did see you, and the answer was still a no. so perhaps, just perhaps, you actually aren't good enough to play at that next level.

and that is where i find myself, again. stuck in this cycle of self-doubt and disappointment. the question that keeps circling in my mind is, "has this ship sailed?" am i now too old? in 2019, after i did my acl for the third time, i accepted that w-league would never happen for me. i was 26 years old, had torn my acl 3 times, who in their right mind would take a chance on a player like that? fast forward 4 years - i'm still playing, and playing some of my best soccer yet. i've scored 13 goals in 29 games this year, as a centreback, and every year i hold onto the hope that maybe, just maybe, i might get noticed. "if you do well enough in your local league, people will notice. they'll tap you on the shoulder." will they though? or have i just not done 'well enough'?

the thing is, i have been on the losing side of the matthew effect for the last fifteen years of my life. the matthew effect states that the rich get richer and the poor get poorer. so in relation to sport, once your name is known, it will continue to be known. if your name isn't known, it will continue to stay unknown. in my juniors, i benefited from the former - i was selected in state teams before i even trialled. i was also chosen in the all-star team at nationals, not because i had a stand-out tournament, but because at the time i was attending junior matildas camps and it wouldn't be a good look if i didn't get selected. but ever since i went to america, my name went missing. for 6 years i didn't play in the wnpl. for 6 years my name wasn't in circulation. so when i returned, i had to recreate that name. and i've been trying to recreate that name ever since.

look at the players that sign for w-league clubs, where do they come from? other w-league clubs. even if they've had absolutely horrible seasons, they will still get signed the following year. even if they’ve been injured for the last 12 months, they’ll still get signed. because as a coach, you're not taking a risk signing someone who has previously been signed - someone else took that risk for you. you're merely keeping the status quo, keeping their name circulating. but to sign someone who has never been signed? that's a big risk. and an even bigger risk when they're older because they probably don't have many years left in their development. humans are typically risk averse - so i get it. but how many players are out there who have been overlooked because of this effect? because of our biases towards certain players? i use the example of clare hunt - how many years has she been overlooked? her transition into international football was nearly seamless - but where would she be had she been picked up earlier?

i find myself stuck. what i want from soccer, i won't find here in the wnpl. all my life i've been involved in professional environments - i grew up in the SASI program where we trained 5-6 days a week, then i went to college on a scholarship which was full time again. the wnpl here is 3 days a week. and i often find myself frustrated because my teammates don't seem to care. but i realise that's because this isn't a professional environment, and it probably won't become one. many of the frustrations i’ve experienced over the years can be attributed to being in this incompatible environment. i want more, but the reality i'm finding myself in over and over again, is perhaps i'm not good enough for that next level. there's wnpl, and then there's w-league. and i'm stuck, somewhere between the two. wanting more, but not getting more. so without a name, without the experience, and probably without the skills, i really am at a loss for how i am ever going to break into that next level.