Practice data and coach decision-making

Using the competitive cauldron for objectivity

I rowed in college, and we occasionally had seat races, typically as an important race approached. A seat race is when two boats race, then the rowers in the same seat (numbered 1-8) switch teams, and the boats race again. Theoretically, the difference between the two races identifies the better rower or the rower who should be in the first boat. To use a basketball example, it is somewhat like looking at +/- from a single game to determine the starters for the next game.

Of course, as Yogi Berra said, “In theory there is no difference between theory and practice. In practice there is.” Nothing is the same between two races, even when the distance and rowers are the same.

Competitive races are 2000 meters (2K). The seat races were a 2K followed by another 2K, meaning the coaches may identify the better rower over 4K, not necessarily over 2K. Some rowers’ strength may be endurance, and they row better in the second race than the rowers who excel in shorter distances. These races often were unannounced and unplanned. Some rowers may not have exerted 100% effort in the first race.

These variables would cancel out over time if we raced like this every practice or even weekly, but the variance is large in a single race, just as +/- in a single game rarely identifies the best player. The results are as likely to be chance or luck as to identify the better rower or the rower who created a better team.

Rowing differs from basketball because of the lack of substitutions. Not starting in basketball is not the end of the world, as players play off the bench and potentially prove their worth. It is all or nothing in rowing, more akin to a soccer goalie or a football quarterback, positions that rarely substitute or change once a coach selects the starter. Coaches generally only change goalies or quarterbacks after injuries or when something calamitous occurs.

We generally discuss these decisions in terms of the individuals, especially in the age of the transfer portal. A quarterback who does not win the starting job may enter the transfer portal in the hope of finding a better opportunity. Often, the public and/or media criticize these players as soft because they do not want to fight for their position.

We rarely discuss these decisions in terms of the effect on the team. In the rowing example, using a method with high variance — maybe one rower had a final and stayed up all night studying and the other had his best performance ever — is not fair to the team who wants to have the best eight rowers in the boat. Nothing is ever perfect in competitive sports, but we had the important races marked weeks in advance: We built up our training and tapered for the races; we planned our schedules around the races. A coach picking a random Tuesday three weeks out from a race to have a seat race is not the same imperfect environment. Overcoming adversity, showing grit, and more are important, but if I am in the first boat and my teammates are competing for the last seat, I want to know the one selected is the better rower, not just the one who slept normally last night.

I use the competitive cauldron, and at the high-school level have determined starting lineups through the cauldron; at the college level, I use the cauldron as information, but not a determinant. One year, a player complained about her playing time. I showed her that she was last on the team in practice wins. What would it say about the meaning or purpose of practice if a player continually losing in practice was near the top of the rotation during games? There are always mitigating factors, and I would not decide playing time based on a single day of the competitive cauldron because there is a lot of variance in terms of teammates, calls, bounces, preparedness, class schedules, sleep, and more, but over a decent length of time, shouldn’t a coach who values practice play the players who win the most, presumably performing the best, in practice?

Coaches often discount players who outplay teammates in practice. We placate players and tell them to earn the minutes during the game. Life is not always fair. From an individual standpoint, this is true. Not starting is not the end of the world, and provided the players are in the rotation, they have opportunities to earn the starting position. But what about the team? Shouldn’t the team want the best possible starting lineup (not always the best five players)?

A friend emailed and related his daughter’s college volleyball experience. After playing behind upperclassmen for two seasons, she thought this would be her year, only to have a new coach arrive. Again, struggling for playing time, the assistants attempt to keep her positive by showing her the practice statistics showing she has the best hitting percentages on the team in practice. Why keep practice statistics if they are ignored? Alternatively, if there is another reason to play a different player (team camaraderie, defense, impact substitute, matchups, etc), should that be explained?

As a college head coach one season, I basically had seven starters. Six were sophomores and alls even would have moved to Division 1 programs the next season, but one was not D1 eligible. The one who did not start was because I liked her energy off the bench; she was the player who could change a game. She was an X factor. She may not have loved coming off the bench, and she probably thought she was better than some of the starters, but we had one conversation about the reasons for her coming off the bench, and never had an issue. There was a reason outside of talent not to start her and I explained to her the reason.

Coaches often view players differently. I worked as a team’s strength and conditioning coach years ago. I was uninvolved with the basketball decision-making, nor was I a part of practices, team meetings, and more, but I attended enough practices and every game. I viewed their personnel differently than did the head coach. My view may have been wrong, but my point is two coaches who watched the players nearly every day disagreed. In terms of playing time and decisions, the head coach was right; it was her team, and she made the decisions. However, is she right just because she has a position of power? If I was right, and players felt the same as I did, how does it affect their confidence in the coach, relationships, and performance when they see an inferior player constantly playing ahead of a superior player? As a player don’t you want your best teammates to play or at least know why they are not playing?

Keeping stats or the competitive cauldron is not the only way to practice or to determine playing time, and playing talented players who may not be the best practice players is not necessarily wrong. However, what’s the purpose of the stats or the competitive cauldron if it continually conflicts with your lineups, but you chose to stick to your gut anyway? If a coach ignores all objective measures, why even keep them? Does it really help the player to know she is outperforming her teammates in practice, but still not playing in games? Doesn’t that cause more frustration in players and potentially other teammates who just want to win and play alongside the best players? When there is a legitimate reason for these decisions, are the reasons articulated to the players?

I use the competitive cauldron to give me an objective measure, to tune my attention to things I may miss because of my personal biases. It provides information, and I use the information. I may not abide by the results all of the time, but I consider the information before making decisions, and I share the information with players so they understand some of the rationale behind the decisions I make as a coach. Because we did not know better as novice rowers, the boat races appeared to be the same type of objective decision making, and built our trust and confidence in the coach.