Return to the pitch — Part three
Welcome to the sixth and final part of my auto ethnography (i.e., creative reflections of my personal experiences) exploring some of the psychological processes involved in constructing, deconstructing and partially reconstructing a coaching identity. If you’d like to read the whole article you can do so here [an academic login is required].
As with part one, two, three, four, and five what follows is a brief narrative of my experiences as a young person trying to assert an identity within the role of an association football (also known as soccer) coach (McCall & Simmons, 1978). Stets and Burke (2000) define identity as the categorisation of the self as an occupant of a role, while incorporating the self into the meanings and expectations associated with the role and its fulfilment. As Oyserman, Elmore, and Smith (2012) suggest, identity can be focused on the past (e.g. what used to be true of the individual), the present (e.g. what is true of the individual now) or the future (e.g. the person the individual expects, hopes or feels obliged to become; or the person one fears one may become). Using an auto ethnographic approach, I explore my lived experiences through a number of rich, contextualised vignettes: drawing meaning and connections to extend our understanding of identity (Ellis & Bochner, 2000).
The second half
As the second half began the opposition were even more aggressive than in the first, with the supporters and coach becoming increasingly vocal at the referee to give them decisions — to which he frequently obliged. I wondered if I should also try to manipulate the ref, but a shout of “don’t sink to their level’’ from a senior player seemed to focus the players and quickly reinforced my belief that I should stick to my principles. I wondered whether the other manager had considered his ethical beliefs or how his behaviour was affecting the decisions of his players and the fans, but I shelved my thoughts and turned my attention back to the game.
As the half progressed, we went from strength to strength, hardening against our opponents efforts to intimidate us, while also displaying our superior fitness. I sensed that the players could feel the change and within sixty minutes we were in front.
Growing tired of being a goal down to a team from the wrong end of the table, the tackles became even more ferocious. Despite being battered and bruised we stood strong. The fans bayed for blood and the opposition players responded by attempting tackles that wouldn’t look out of place in a Bruce Lee movie. Despite the physical assault my players were enduring I could almost see the confidence oozing back into the side. We became more expansive, adventurous and firmer in the tackle. In an attempt to stop the turning tide, the opposition `hard-man’ clattered into one of our players sending him flying into the air, boots above head and arms flailing, before returning from orbit to land firmly and squarely on his back: “REF! Come on you’ve got to do something about this lot, they ain’t (sic) here to play football.’’ Covered in sweat, the `hard-man’ stopped his attack on my team and instead began to confidently stride towards me. Taking umbrage with my comment to the ref a torrent of abuse flew in my direction. At 6'4 and built like a brick shit house, I yielded around 5 inches and a third of my body weight to someone who I later found out had spent time at Her Majesty’s pleasure. Although my head was telling me that I didn’t need the trouble and that this was most definitely an occasion for flight rather than fight, I couldn’t run. How would that have looked to my team after telling them that we wouldn’t be bullied? I decided to give as good as I got, doing my best to act confidently — convincing myself that a black-eye would be less painful than being seen as a hypocrite in the eyes of my new team. A voice inside my head reminds me that he is pretty big, but I tell myself that: I’ve dealt with bigger. The argument gets a little out of hand, but I convince myself that if it kicks off that the team will back me up; bloody hell I hope they do as he’ll kill me! Noticing my heart pounding and hands sweating I realise the need to keep control: Stay calm. I’ll give as good as I get, I’ll front him out. Eventually we agree to deal with our disagreement after the game.
Following my lead the team stood up to the continued onslaught and looked the better side, creating the better chances and hitting the post. We kept the pressure up, creating chance after chance, until eventually, a beautifully threaded pass from Leo (our Spanish midfield maestro) allows our pacey forward to burst through the opposition defence and slot the ball past the goalkeeper into the bottom corner. “Come on!’’ I quietly pump my fist, being careful to maintain a respect for the opposition, despite the fact they had been nothing but disrespectful to us. The joy is clear on the players’ faces, but they know that they still need to see the game out. I expected my players to face a torrent of abuse; instead, in almost unison the opposition players hung their heads and I knew the game was over. A few minutes later the final whistle blew and we had done it; the team had finally won a game and it had come against top of the league. Full of adrenaline, I approach the guy I had had a disagreement with and offer to shake his hand, but he’s not having any of it and tells me in no uncertain terms to “fuck off’’, I’ll take that, classing an expletive as a win by comparison of what was on offer earlier I was very happy to leave it there.
After the match I try my best to appear nonchalant, after all I had predicted that the game would go the way it did, although, I hadn’t really believed my own words. There is shouting and talking as I enter the dressing room, but this time Steve spontaneously shouts “Oi listen up’’. As one of the people who had originally challenged my claim to be a coach, the sentiment of this act had not gone unnoticed: Great, hopefully this means that the players have accepted me. They should, if anyone (myself included) needed any proof that I could coach, leading this team to their first victory of the season is a good start. “Bloody hell we’ve won! Amazing! Controlling my excitement I remind myself of the need to keep calm, the team has made massive strides today, but they/I must not get carried away, it is only one win and I want a lot more! I congratulate the players on their performance and courage:
Well done boys, it was a hard day, but you came through it. They were tough, but we were tougher and I am very proud of you for not sinking to their level. It is not going to be easy getting used to how I want you to play, but you should remember how you stuck together today and definitely enjoy tonight, you’ve earned it!
The players nod their heads in unison, before turning to one another to continue the discussions and no doubt congratulate themselves on their first win of the season.
Conclusion
The journey discussed within this narrative focuses on a transitional period both personally and professionally, which covers my return to coaching. Prompted by the offer of a coaching position, `return to the pitch’ uses three vignettes (i.e. (1) the training ground, (2) the dressing room, and (3) the match) as reflexive mechanisms to discuss my emotions and experiences when attempting to reconstruct a coaching identity on re-entering the profession; offering an opportunity to walk in my shoes and feel some of what I felt (Knowles & Gilbourne, 2004). Building on Jones (2006), the stories depicted here demonstrate how impression management supports identity construction in addition to managing the impression others form (Leary & Kowalski, 1990). Like Jones (2006), I acted the part of a football coach (Goffman, 1959): presenting the impression that I was confident, in control and capable of leading the team (Schlenker, 1975). That said, when aggressively confronted by an opponent, I did not want to be seen as a hypocrite and as such, I was impression motivated to construct and alternate presentation of self (Leary & Kowalski, 1990). In constructing such an impression, I adopted multiple self-presentation strategies (Baumeister & Jones, 1978) to present a self that was `true’ to the goals I had originally set, while attempting to avoid a more spontaneous goal of not being punched in the face (Leary & Kowalski, 1990). I was also motivated to be seen as authentic and strategically used self-presentation strategies to convey identity images to my players of a phenomenal self (Sosik, Avolio & Jung, 2002) who was trustworthy, credible, and of moral worth (Gardner & Avolio, 1998). My attempts and desire to be authentic contradicts with my deliberate presentation of emotions and qualities I knew I wasn’t feeling at the time. However, for me, this felt like an aspirational identity pursuit rather than deceitfulness (Snyder, 1987). It was me trying to gain esteem from my players (Gronn, 1995) in order to be the coach I knew I could and wanted to be, even if I wasn’t strictly that at that moment. Once I became more confident in my re-emerging identity, the need for impression management strategies subsided (Leary, 1995).
This autoethnography then briefly discusses the ethical decisions faced by a coach during a competitive fixture. While I never want to win by gamesmanship, as the opposition had clearly come to win by any means, I questioned my principles and wondered if winning and being seen as a successful coach again was worth momentarily compromising my beliefs. Although the temptation was present, I considered how the young players within the team might model such behaviours in the long-term (Bandura, 1977) and if it would effect their commitment to both me and the team. In my role as the team leader I aim to be a role model (Podsakoff et al., 1990; Bass & Riggio, 2006) and abide by the ethical values I believe in (Bass & Steidlmeier, 1999). However, when under the kind of pressure the aforementioned match placed me, I found myself questioning these values and whether I should, temporarily, suspend my ethical beliefs (Trevino, 1986).
Finally, while I would like to offer a happy ending to my story (Smith, 1999) and explain that I rediscovered and fulfilled my adolescent dreams, I haven’t. Coaching is still an important aspect of my self-concept, but it no longer defines me in the same way as it did and is not the dominant aspect of a narrowed identity (Markus, 1977; Adler & Adler, 1989; Sparkes, 1998; Kerr & Dacyshyn, 2000). As Denzin and Lincoln (1997) suggest:
Auto ethnography is setting a scene, telling a story, weaving intricate connections among life and art, experience and theory, evocation and explanation… and then letting it go, hoping for readers who will bring the same careful attention to your words in the context of their own lives.
Although this may not offer a neat conclusion to the reconstruction of my coaching identity, at this stage of my story, like Defenbaugh (2008) I am not able to offer a definitive concluding statement. That said, this is not the point. Instead, the stories presented here have been shared to translate knowledge in an engaging and easily understood manner, which is accessible to both specialist and non-specialist audiences. Beyond this, it is also hoped that this narrative may provide support to other coaches and bind those who share similar experiences together to tell their collective stories (Richardson 1990).
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Please note that what is presented here is an abbreviated, psychology light version of the whole manuscript. If you’d like to read the whole text click here [an academic login is required].
