A Conversation With a Leg

by Ryan Krzykowski

The story comes from 2003, and yet it resonated with me just last week.  In his incredible book, InSideOut Coaching, Joe Ehrmann tells the story of Tom Pecore, a high school soccer coach from Oklahoma.  After a difficult, discouraging day at work, Tom encountered one of his top players in the school office.  The young man was dealing with a leg injury and had ice on his knee.  Joe tells the story: “Tom caught sight of the ice bag, and his eyes locked on to the knee and the knee only.  He never made eye contact with the young man.  Instead, he engaged in a conversation with the leg — a critical piece of his team’s success.”

Joe goes on to describe the short dialogue between coach and injured player, and then drops this bomb: “Those were the last words Tom ever spoke to his athlete.  A few hours later the young man went home and shot himself.”

This is an extreme and no doubt very complicated story.  There’s most likely a lot more going on in the young man’s life than what we’re given, and in no way does Joe suggest that Tom is responsible for his player’s suicide.  At the same time, one can imagine how Tom might be replaying that interaction in his head for years to come.  No coach would want that to be their last conversation with a player.  Since the first time I read it, that story has reminded me of far too many terse, transactional conversations I’ve had with kids.  And it’s also made a difference in how I talk to them, especially when they are injured.  I’ve come to understand that for many young people working through an injury, they’re feeling a combination of frustration, guilt, and just overall sadness.

Last week, one of our top players missed three days of practice with a leg injury, and I could tell it was really bringing him down.  The reality was, he was doing the treatment prescribed by trainers and doctors, and healing takes more than proper treatment.  It also takes time.  He and I were both growing impatient, knowing that our team is way better when he’s on the field.  I found myself constantly worried about him (mostly his leg) and would check in with him daily, sometimes two or three times each day, hoping for any kind of encouraging report.  Finally, I realized all my worry wasn’t going to make a leg heal faster.  All my questions were going to do little more than provide additional frustration and guilt.  I still did my job, working with the athlete, trainer and doctor, but I stopped stressing and piling that stress onto a kid.  And I sent this text:

I’m believing you’ll get the chance to play tomorrow, but I don’t actually know what’s going to happen.  Regardless, I am so very proud of you.  I know the last two weeks have been really tough for you and your handling of the frustration is impressive.

Not trying to sound like a hero here — sending that text didn’t save anyone’s life.  But just like Tom Pecore “transformed his communication with his players and thereby transformed his coaching”, I’ve worked to do something similar.  Most injured athletes are doing the right things, following their treatment plans, and would give just about anything to be healthy again.  In my interactions and conversations with them, I need to keep that in mind, staying supportive and encouraging.

Let’s Coach With Purpose…