'you write like you have nothing and everything to lose'

"It is about an acute dislike of bullshit" - Ben Shewry

(caution: more swearing than usual, not entirely my fault)

It was my birthday this month 🎂 and I am not the kinda person to celebrate in all honestly. I much prefer to be more like Harry Potter at the dinner party in the second movie:

Circumstances did allow me to spend the evening of my birthday working late, but it was salvaged by a quick catch up and a surprise gift (that I certainly did not ask for and ungraciously accepted). I'm at a point where saying yes to things is something that I need to be a little more protective about, but driving 30mins to Fremantle for this conversation was absolutely worth it, and I'll never say no to a good conversation. The trajectory that one chat, and ultimately one book, sent me on is something that will take me much more than just one newsletter to unpack, but I wanted to share it with you.

Enter the book in question, which was honestly the backup gift after the initial idea was not in stock. What a perfectly timed problem that happened to be.

Murdoch Books

I know you'll never see this Ben Shewry, but I cannot thank you enough for writing as your authentic self, for creating something that made me laugh out loud, cry, and genuinely enjoy reading in every spare moment I had over the last month. I cannot remember the last time I finished a book in under 30 days, even while underlining so many passages in pencil (because defacing this book in pen would hurt my soul) and tabs sticking out of every second page.

Uses for Obsession

The title of this newsletter is actually one of my (many) favourite quotes from this book, and it speaks to a lot of things I've been feeling through lately. I am deeply fascinated by a lot of things, and they're starting to catch up with me. I started a list of quests - projects that I am in the midst of - and they are getting out of hand, but I can't help myself. I want to be thinking about a hundred things at a time, because when I do, these amazing, surprising connections form.

I want to be reading 10 different things because I can jump between a chef's memoir (this book) to a journal article about learning and assessment in pre-service teachers to Context Changes Everything by Alicia Juarrero which makes me question the fundamental fabric of what we consider 'science' to a text chain with my favourite people that pulls me in a entirely unique direction....I thrive at the messy, chaotic intersection of all these things. I chase this fascination anywhere it leads me, and yes it means that I'm not always perfect at seeing these many quests through but damn if they don't take me to some places that I never would have found if I didn't set off down the path.

I am definitely obsessed with creating learning environments, and trying to create a version of community sport that is genuinely welcoming for all. I think that's why I find my current role still feels like my dream job after a year - my ability to spend as much time as I want in this space, to genuinely explore and experiment and co-design things so they actually suit the needs of the people we are trying to inspire to learn is something I haven't experienced before, and I didn't think would exist in community sport. To hold space for learning and development, wholeheartedly and when it matters most, is no easy feat. It would be sooo much easier to jump to a quick fix, to react instead of respond, to bring the book down on people instead of actually trying to understand where they are coming from, why this is important to them, and why we accept certain standards when we choose to walk past and say nothing.

I think one of things that is deeply felt throughout this book is how much care goes into creating these spaces, and more subtly, how much caring so immensely hurts. I've heard it colloquially a few times that people who don't care don't get burnt out and I can believe that (although its grossly simplified). One point that I vigorously underlined was this:

"If a new cook is struggling, in good kitchens, the others will jump in and lift them, like worker ants building the colony. This mentality is born from a genuine love for one another that is forged in the finest of kitchen relationships; we could do ANYTHING for each other." [p. 194]

The first time I read this, it resonated deeply because that's exactly how I feel I would respond in just about any work environment, and i love knowing that in some spaces, this behaviour is woven into the fabric of what it means to be a team. But the more I think about it, the more romanticised is feels when I transfer it across to coaching and cricket in particular, but I'm sure we're not alone in the following sentiment: even the new cooks (coaches) sometimes think they know what they're doing, and therefore, do not notice that they are, in fact, struggling.

And it may not be the coach who feels this struggle, my worry is that the learners do. The young people who are none the wiser, who arrive at training either because they begged mum and dad to take them that day or maybe have to go anyway. They will hang off your every word, either because you have created a space where that reverence is earned or demanded. Or, they just won't listen at all and then it becomes a fun game of how to capture their attention in a world that holds many other captivating things.

We've heard a few times already that even people who are new to coaching don't really see why they would engage in any learning and development - for a variety of reasons. Perhaps a past experience of education and development wasn't overly positive, or they were treated like they don't know anything about the game when they may have a rich history with it. My personal favourite and most humbling quote has been around being an "armchair expert"... ‘why would I need to learn how to coach when I know enough about cricket?’ It pains me that people think we are talking about the same thing here. The sport is not coaching, not entirely.

Don't get me wrong: "They are so deeply keen to get it right." But what is right? It's a question I've been asking myself a lot lately. I think if you'd asked me 5 years ago, little naive 23 year old Alex might have told you that "right" is creating the ultimate learning environment for skill development by effectively recreating the performance demands of game day at training using representative learning design. Don't believe me? I literally wrote two papers about it ahahaha.

I think the more humble, maybe equally naive 28 year old Alex is closer to believing that right is simply meeting the needs of the amazing people in front of you, and never losing sight of that. I think if we can get only one thing right, it's that. The only thing we should be maximising is a sense of wanting to be there, of belonging, of psychological safety and joy and laughter. And yes, you might read that and think "oh but what about the skill development!? What if we have an entire generation of kids that can't bowl on the pitch!?" I hate to break it to you, but if someone has only played 3 games of cricket ever in their existence, and you're worried about how many times they're not bowling the ball on the pitch... I think we've missed the point.

There’s an early chapter on French cuisine that I enjoyed the first time, but flicking back through this book to write the newsletter made it hit home even more. I am going to draw a comparison between cooking onion and coaching community sport now.. it’ll be worth it. “The onion is invisible” seems like an innocuous statement right, but I can easily draw parallels between sport coaching and French cooking in this context. Not just the low hanging fruit (food pun intended), like “onions are a vegetable that should never be seen” sounding very similar to “children should be seen, not heard”. I actually think it runs deeper than this, in that so much of what we are taught to do in relation to supporting the needs of others comes back to what we want them to do, not what they want. To take the personal elements of who they are, out of the equation. Even as early as page 19, all I could think about is how these ideas are reinforced everywhere we look, so of course it is going to be difficult to shift any beliefs, values or behaviours.

“…this new French language of haute cuisine, where the cooking was all bout rigorously imposing one’s will onto the food through complex technique, often to the individual ingredients’ detriment… the view obstructed by tradition, weight and stubborn ritual.” [p. 19]

I never could have anticipated that I would take so many quotes about coaching and learning and development from a chef's memoir, but I love that inspiration can be everywhere if you're curious enough to remain open to it. I'll finish with this quote, because honestly, I cannot express this point more eloquently than it has already been done. I find myself saying something similar in the context of coaching children:

"Whatever the outcome, it's never the food's fault." [p. 97]

Okay I lied, because it would be remiss of me to not close with the line that I refer to when people ask “oooh what’s the book like?”

“Go out and be good motherfuckers” [p. 223]