Oh No. What Have We Done?
How Following Best Practice and Accepted Wisdom Almost Destroyed a Career
I coached Wasps during a strong mid 2010s period where they finished in the top four of the league for almost half a decade and reached the Premiership Final - and lost - twice. During this period, within our ranks was powerful man-handling ball-carrying star who has one of the first names on the team sheet for Wasps and consistently on the radar of the English rugby team.
Now back in these days, the statistical method of appraisal of choice for many sports was the OPTA matrix. OPTA was a company that analysed performances across teams in many leagues in many sports. Factors such as number of kicks, number of points, number of passes are logged individually per player, creating enormous league tables of player proficiencies in various areas that are tantamount to success in Rugby.
This player, in his positional breakdown stats, during his earliest years at Wasps often figured in the top three of metres carried as well as number of carries and defenders beaten. His enormous frame was simply insurmountable to opposition defenders. When they could stop him, they would usually be unable to do this in the first few yards (making his carrying stats skyrocket) and also it would take one or two opposition defenders to eventually bring him to a stop (ensuring his defenders beaten stats would rise significantly). Here was a physical behemoth who, if not break through defences and run to score, would certainly carry an entire team forward on his back for precious few yards and place the opposition on the back foot in the process. He was a weapon. His strengths were his ball-carrying.
Change Based On Pre-Determined Biases
And yet. There was a huge opportunity laying in the wings statistically, which the national team (England) and Wasps eagerly salivated over in order to turn him into an unstoppable attacking force both at club and international level. He was significantly heavier than most of his peers in the same position – towering almost 15kg heavier than the mean weight for the position in the English Premiership. Also, using GPS data (which players wear on their backs at all time as measure of distance covered in games), there was a gap between what he did on the field and the ‘expected’ levels of distance covered at international level. The data was pointing everyone in one direction.
He needed to get fitter, and the best way to do this was to lose some body mass.
Here was an easy hypotheses to figure out. If his body weight could be reduced, even slightly enough that he could still maintain his superiority in contact over his peers, as well as increase his fitness, he would be some player. This would enable him to increase the amount of work he would do in a game, and his destructive physical attributes would be seen much more often over the course of eighty minutes than in the current state. Everyone was on board. All respective coaches and even the player himself when the potential benefits - both in performance and in opportunity to satisfy the requirements of international rugby - were outlined. The philosophy was sound, and agreed upon. Moreover, science and Isaac Newton himself overwhelming backed this approach. Countless studies proved beyond any reproach that losing body weight and fat would result in ‘increased performance’ athletically with a greater ability to recover, regenerate and reproduce form. There were also countless experiential anecdotes between the respective coaches on previous case studies all around the world of players who had turned a corner physically to become genuine superstars for years.
Over an off-season (the period between the last game of one season and the first game of the next), the support staff at Wasps got to work. He monitored his daily food intake, this time purposefully governed towards minimisation of calories, advised with scrutiny and meticulous detail from nutritionists, and undertook training sessions primarily designed to improve his endurance capabilities and ability to reproduce his explosive bouts. The benefit of this approach was hugely exciting for all. The prospect of a lean, mean, powerful athlete able to increase his workload and fire many more explosive physical shots at the opposition was a tantalising one. As the season approached, his body fat had plummeted almost 3.5% (a huge drop considering he wasn’t considerably heavy in this area to begin with), his speed had increased, his power-to-weight ratio was through the roof and he had lost almost ten kilogrammes in weight. He was proudly showing off his newly-found sculpted abdominals off in the changing areas to baffled, envious teammates. There were pats on backs all round.
This ‘project’ was the very epitome of multi-stakeholder cooperation around an athlete-centred model of improvement, the kind of shared organisation approach that national governing bodies craved from their performance partners.
It showed that by combining shared outcomes, using science and data correctly, and by pooling resources together, individual players could benefit hugely even within team environments. Wasps were delighted because this was like having a completely new signing on their hands. The new model was about to be unleashed on to the English Premiership ready to sweep aside all-comers. England were delighted because here was a player that now fitted the ‘known knowns’ of physical performance at international rugby. The step up from club level to international level from a physical perspective had been seemingly achieved without a single game being played.
So the lean, muscular forward returned that season and played for Wasps Rugby for the opening months of the season. Everyone from fan to CEO remarked on how ‘well’ he looked, how he was seemingly everywhere around the park and popping up left, right and centre eager to contribute to his share of carrying the ball into the opposition’s collective solar plexi. All went swimmingly until there was a knock on the door one day from the head of performance analysis – the gatekeeper in the organisation whose responsibilities included monitoring the OPTA performance stats.
How was the player doing? Amazingly well, surely??
No. Quite the opposite.
“So after a few games, his carrying stats are down.”
“So are his defenders beaten”
“So are his metres carried”
“In fact, he isn’t in the top ten in the league anything at the moment.”
This sucked the air out of the room. He had consistently been top three in all those aspects for months if not seasons on end prior to this. It was what he did. This was noted, and with a casting eye now on this trend, all the stakeholders who had played a part in this “athleticising” began to nervously discuss what was going on.
This trend carried on for three more months. There was something wrong. Performance staff convened to analyse all potential sources.
Was he tired from all of the training? (No – his work rate statistics were up by over 30% in most available indicators). Had the opposition worked him out, maybe even targeting him as a means of nullifying the threat? (No – his stats across the board in all other facets were the same if not even better than previously). He had improved his weaknesses so much that his strengths had evaporated.
But this had been catered for in the planning, hadn’t it? Ensuring that his speed, power and his strength were topped up and measured had been a part of the strategy all along?
By the time the penny had dropped that the problem was not with the science, or the application, but with the philosophy, the player in question had worked his socks off to achieve what all others had instructed and advised, only to realise that the presumption that creating a better athlete would create a better outcome. It didn’t.
What This Has To Do With The Concept Of Superstrengths.
His strength was seemingly an ability to be able to propel his huge frame powerfully and quickly, maintaining his balance, and knock defenders over at will. He would often do this with a standing start even – holding would-be tacklers off with his fist before single-handedly judo-throwing them to the floor before walking on to the next. Newton would call this simple physics – weight times speed equalling momentum. He had weight, and speed on his side. That is, until people – with the best intentions in the world, I might add - convinced themselves (and him) to work on his weaknesses.
This act inadvertently took away what he was good at. He became the ‘same as everyone else’. His stats weren’t that bad – in fact they were still very good, but they weren’t ‘exceptional’ quality. They were ‘standard English Premiership number eight’ quality.
Version 2.0 was still five kilogrammes heavier than the majority of his peers, but an oversight on being able to recognise the true source of his superstrength – by people who were versed in elite sport at the top level for over a century between them and holding scientific PhDs and Masters degrees - combined with a keen eagerness to transform an excellent player into a world beater became philosophically misaligned.
Before being introduced to ideas for change, this player possessed standout strengths that were not only measured but also celebrated. However, focusing on improving his weaknesses at the expense of his strengths diminished the unique advantages he brought to the table. This was a case study of how a person's standout strengths set him apart from others, but rather than celebrating and highlighting these qualities, a misguided focus and philosophy nearly erased them entirely.
Merely looking at other industries ranging from IT to software to business - where people succeeded because of phenomenal skills that set them apart more often than broad ranged-competence - would have indicated to those making the decisions that amplification, not reduction, should have been the strategy.
Fortunately, this was remedied and the player in question in time returned to his barnstorming best. But not without many people around him learning valuable lessons about the value of specific and special skills.
At some point, we all should ask ourselves, 'What am I truly good at?' Finding out what makes us stand apart is increasingly important in a world of infinite choice.
