Beyond winning: Finding a lifetime of joy in the sports we play
One of my favorite characters in all of literature lives in the coming-of-age novel, A Separate Peace by John Knowles. In the novel, a character named Phineas (Finny for short) comes to life through the eyes of the protagonist, Gene Forrester. Finny is everything that Gene is not: A teenage boy without pretense, fear or hesitation, who lives honestly with exuberance and unbridled enthusiasm, habitually finding fun and joy in just about every situation. Finny is a fearless adventurer and an exceptional athlete, who is widely considered to be the very best athlete at the fictional boarding school the characters attend. The rub is, and much to Gene’s dismay and consternation, Finny really couldn’t care less about actual organized sports and performs at this exceptionally high level, not to break school records, or even to win games or accolades, but rather—and only—for his own deep joy and satisfaction.
Since I encountered this book some time in my late teens, I have loved this idea and have thought on more than one occasion that this philosophy (so artfully personified in the character of Phineas) is one that many great athletes hold. Lately, I have also been thinking that it is the philosophy of many happy and healthy life-long athletes. My dear friend and contemporary, Katie, for instance, is an accomplished tennis player, a skilled boxing coach and a life-long fitness aficionado. For over three decades, Katie and I have shared our passion for tennis, college football and just about any activity that gets us outside, moving and sweating. One of the deep things we have in common is our shared understanding that we will always make time to move and to play, and because we play well, people often mistake our passion for competitiveness. Our pathological devotion to our college football teams notwithstanding (Go Ducks! Go Blue!) Katie and I have always understood that our common goal when we are playing tennis is to play this game we both love so much with deep passion and skill and to push ourselves—and each other—to keep playing at the highest level possible.
And then there’s my amazing friend and colleague Barb, a former college swimmer in her mid-fifties, with three teenage boys and a full-time job. Somehow, she finds time to train daily for her calendar of races, which include everything from local 10ks to ocean swims to triathlons in different parts of the country. She even finds time to volunteer as a guide to disabled athletes for various races. Early Saturday morning, I caught up with her on the way to an event and asked her directly what motivates her to spend so much of her precious time and energy doing what she does. She was crystal clear when she explained that she couldn’t care less about the race results, or if anyone knows what she’s doing; she really just wants to keep pushing herself, to be of service, when possible, and to keep working to be a little better than she was the last time.
And finally, there’s Carl, a former high school football player who is nearly 70 years old now and who, for many years, has been an exceptional tennis and golf player, but most recently has devoted himself to improving his golf game. To this end, he has been spending countless early mornings—and thousands of dollars—to work with a professional coach. Carl isn’t planning to play in any golf events or compete in any tournaments and is unabashed when he says that he really doesn’t care about beating anyone at golf—other than himself. During a recent conversation, he explained simply that he finds tremendous satisfaction in improving his swing, in hitting the ball with skill and precision and in identifying what isn’t working and taking the proper steps to fix it.
What these friends—and Leann and Gary and Robin and Tony and so many other people of a certain age I know—have in common, I think, is that they have internalized the very best things about sports and have found a lifetime of joy as a result. All of these people grew up playing and loving organized sports and since then, have found tremendous joy and satisfaction in playing at a high level and in pushing themselves to work hard to improve; in using their self-discipline and passion to train consistently; and in finding the deep enjoyment and fun that keeps them wanting to do it year after year after year.
To me, this attitude, this way of thinking about and doing sports, is the absolute pinnacle of athletic success. To play a sport well and to do it regularly with pleasure and passion for many years might be the greatest goal for any athlete.
Of course, as a high school teacher and coach, I can’t really think about these ideas without thinking about how to share them with my student athletes. How do I coach my athletes to push past their physical and psychological limits to be exceptional at a sport and to compete, fearlessly with passion and exuberance, not only for the win, the records, the scholarships or even for their teammates, but also for the deep and profound intrinsic joy of being an athlete? And, just as importantly, how do I help them make this a durable concept that they embrace fully and take with them into their lives after high school?
I have been thinking about these ideas a lot lately and talking to other like-minded coaches, some of whom have helped me to boil the whole conversation down to a simple question: Are there ways to help high school athletes find and keep the deep internal joy and satisfaction that makes them want to do a sport for a lifetime?
Emphasize joy. Of course, it’s important to preach hard work and focus, consistency and teamwork, but I also take time regularly to help my athletes identify and savor their own joy—and fun. I first encountered this practice in action when I had the honor of working with my dear friend and mentor, the late Neal McCarthy, who ended most of his high school tennis practices by asking each of his players a simple question—did you have fun today? In addition to this simple act, I emphasize joy by helping my student-athletes to recognize their own deep satisfaction at improving. (Doesn’t it feel amazing when you’re hitting those first serves, after working on it all week?) And the fun they’re having. (Is there anything better than a celebratory bus ride home with your teammates after a really satisfying win on the road?) And the inherent joy of playing this game well. (The better you get at net play, the more fun doubles is, right?!) I believe that although it’s important for high school sports to celebrate exceptional performances, team championships and school records, it is equally important to remember that for most kids, high school sports is ultimately about having fun—and finding joy in what they’re doing.
Focus on process, not outcomes. I think it’s important to help student-athletes identify their own personal strengths and weaknesses and to develop clear, appropriate and measurable goals to improve. I try to give as much positive feedback for this work as I do for a standout performances during a match. I emphasize what I call the sacred space of play, meaning that student athletes treat their own daily effort with reverie and internalize the habit of daily excellence. I encourage my players to be consistent in their effort and focus whether they’re in practice or in competition; whether they’re being watched by a coach or alone on the courts; or whether they’re playing an easy match against a lesser team or in the finals of the state championship. I believe this constant reminder is a critical way to help my players begin to internalize their own satisfaction and joy and begin to shift their motivation from extrinsic to intrinsic.
Reframe winning and losing. My team knows that we are working toward being competitive and that winning matches is one of our central goals. They also understand, though, that I am a firm believer in the idea that the most valuable life lessons come from losing. (And, yes, my players would probably chant, no losses—only lessons, if you asked them how I feel about losing.) After every match—and especially the ones we lose—I have a team meeting in which we identify the ways we were successful and the ways we weren’t. No matter how disappointed or discouraged my players feel, we spend time together identifying what they can do better next time and agreeing, as a team, that moving forward with positivity and confidence is our best and only option. I believe that this gives my players a productive way to process losing and to develop the language and habit of cultivating their own resilience and grace in the face of disappointment and adversity.
Coach the inner game. In the early years of my coaching career, I devoted most of my time to planning how to teach basic skills and positioning, game strategy and effective training. There never seemed to be enough hours in the day to teach and drill the myriad of skills necessary to be good at the sport I was coaching, be it basketball or youth soccer or high school tennis. In the last few years, though, I have really shifted my coaching priorities and have come to believe that helping players to manage their thinking around sports is every bit as important as helping them to learn the physical skills to play well. One consistent way I do this is to practice daily meditation with my team, using it as a tool to help my players be more focused and relaxed and to nurture the mind-body connection. This practice opens the door to discuss other sustainable strategies to optimize performance and regulate emotions. Again, the idea is to empower my athletes and to help them internalize the idea that they can create and control their own mindset.
Practice what you preach. Every single day when I show up to coach, I try to model what it looks like to be a 60-something-year-old athlete, who might be wearing a knee brace, but still has a pretty good backhand—and a really good time playing tennis.
