Professional coaches live with the reality that coaching is typically “at-will” employment. That is, their employer (club, school etc) can at any time terminate their employment for any reason so long as it is not illegal. Like a kind of soft-serve morbidity, it is a possibility that hangs over us at all times but we try not to think about or dwell on.
Of course many people have “at-will” jobs, and thus many all live under the “threat” of dismissal at any time. The difference with coaching is that the culture of dismiss and replace is baked into the community of athletics. In American professional football, the NFL has “Black Monday” which is the first Monday after the conclusion of regular season games, and the day that ostensibly under-performing coaches are let go. The number of coaches let go every year varies, but there is always at least one, and there are a few that don’t even make it to Black Monday. It has grown into an inevitability; not a “Will anyone be let go?” but a “Who will be let go?” As with so many things in collegiate athletics, that culture of football trickles down to other sports, so that if the AD or sport supervisor doesn’t like what’s happening with any team in the department’s portfolio, the coach can be ad libitum un-employed.
As rowing grows competitively, and the professional ranks continue to develop, the likelihood that you will know someone (or you are someone) who is fired increases. When and if that does happen, it is important to be prepared, and most critically I believe, to meet this challenging moment professionally and with dignity. For the edification of those who have yet to face this unfortunate moment, I’m sharing my experience, my recovery, and what I learned from that experience. I will also share some ideas about what we can do as a community to improve the process of placing and replacing coaches so there is less trauma (for both professional and organization) and a greater understanding for everyone that may face this professional reality.
I’d like to first offer that this is not a bitter or spiteful story. I do not harbor any resentment and I will not name the organization (although it is about 1’ of internet sleuthing away) because it is not relevant. All athletic organizations fire coaches, there is nothing special or objectively unique about this scenario. The organizational side of the story could have occurred at any school, any program, anywhere.
There is a unique scene in the Brad Pitt film Moneyball (a semi-factual account about a professional baseball team) where the Brad Pitt character, playing the team’s manager, explains to Jonah Hill’s stats analyst character, about the reality of trading players (or ostensibly firing them).
The conversation (and subsequent scene where the analyst actually has to sit and inform a player that he’s been traded) is a very neat example of how a staff dismissal should be executed. That was essentially my experience. The AD brought me in for a regularly scheduled seasonal review, thanked me for my time with the team, stated that she was going to take the team in a different direction, and that I would no longer be needed as the Head Coach. I asked if there was anything else, and she indicated the department would support the line that I had left “to pursue other opportunities.” if I requested. I told her I would consider it and left the office.
The emotions I had in the days, weeks and months following that moment were mostly shame and embarrassment. Because of this I did opt for the story that I had the “left” the position. In part because I thought it would make follow-up job searches easier, and in part to hide those feelings. I regret that choice in hindsight because it compelled me to lie to acquaintances, lie to potential hiring managers, and ultimately in the act of sustaining that lie, delay any emotional recovery. It was a very difficult time for me and for my family as I struggled to find my bearings, and to find a way forward.
Eight months later, my wife accepted a new opportunity in a new city. This is where my real recovery began. I accepted a new coaching position, offered by a trusted friend (to whom I shall forever be thankful), and started down the road to recovery, growth, and a healthier perspective on rowing, competition, and coaching.
I also walked away from the experience with many questions about the culture of replace and rehire in athletics. Is what works for the culture of football (a billion dollar industry at both the collegiate and professional levels) really the way things should work with other sports? Does competitive success lead to job security? Do we really want an athletic culture that is entirely focused on competitive success? Does winning guarantee the best experience for the athletes? Given how many successful high level athletes are talking about mental health challenges today, it leaves me to wonder: what is the true mandate of a competitive athletic coach? Are we truly holding coaches accountable to that?
In part 2, I will discuss the steps I took to move on from this experience, what I learned about myself to be a better husband, father, and professional, and some answers to the above questions.
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