A friend of mine told me in the middle of the volleyball season that we should be seeing many experienced and well-known volleyball coaches calling it quits at the end of this season. He said in very strong terms that many people have just had it and are burnt out and they don't feel like they can do the job correctly, or as they perceive to be doing it correctly.
A person posted a list on
VolleyTalk along with his opinion:
Tom Hilbert, Hugh McCutcheon,
Marc Rosen, Joe Sagula, Dave Rubio are the big names, but Chad Callihan also
retired from Wyoming. Suzie Fritz, Kent Miller, Mike Sealy and Ray Gooden may
not have left on their own terms but they are certainly well-known coaches with
good records and are they trying to get back in?
Add in Shelton Collier from D2, Jenny McDowell from D3 and Bob Bertucci, who
left the men's game this past offseason. Last year we lost Russ Rose, Cathy
George, and Fran Flory...
There's a lot of significant people who aren't in the game anymore. There may
be more (there always are) but I don't think we need to speculate about who
else might leave - we've lost more than enough people to call this prophecy
"true."
We can surmise that they are also tired of the grind
required in order to keep up the pressure: from themselves, from their staff,
from the players, from the administration, from their own families, from the
parents of the players, and from the general fan base. According to the Jobs
Thread on VolleyTalk, at the end of the 2022 season there are 34 Division One
head coaching openings, 22 Division Two, 216 Division 3, 37 NAIA and 9 JUCO. Of
course not all of those are people quitting, some are coaches getting fired,
some are coaches who are transitioning to new jobs and other coaches are moving
up in the food chain.
We know we've gone through three difficult years of transitions
coming rapidly, especially within the volleyball/athletic landscape, one may
call the confluence of events the perfect storm. There is the COVID pandemic,
and the way the powers that be chose to deal with the great unknown. There is
the NCAA’s decision to give those athletes that are affected extra years of
eligibility; which no one would say in the name of fairness, is a bad decision.
The problem is the way they chose to ignore the unintended consequences on the
rosters, scholarship limits, and effects on future recruiting classes. The
combination of the COVID eligibility and the transfer portal made a difficult situation nearly impossible.
As I reflect upon the realities of college volleyball, I — inevitably — started to draw a comparison
to my other life as an engineer. I start to think about the ebb and flow of
careers and the relative attributes between the younger and older employees in
the work force.
When I was working as a mid-career engineer, i.e. I wasn't
wide eyed, innocent, and willing to try everything just because I could; nor
was I decrepit, stubbornly set in my ways, and cynical because I've seen it all, done it
all, and knowing that there's nothing new under the sun. A newly hired HR
person, who was fresh from the campuses stepped in front of the assembled
workers at the work site and declared that the company needed to get rid of all
the older workers and hire newly minted engineers because they are the ones
with the bright new ideas, the initiative to break new grounds, and get things
done. She followed up with the thought that all the older workers do is take up
space and bring down morale with their skepticism, and they don't really add
any value to the organization.
I took offense to that, as did most of my more experienced colleagues.
There is an old joke/story which tries to make light of the bias for the new
and young. A machine started to malfunction at a manufacturing plant. The
workers and managers were at a loss, and nobody knew how to fix it. The head of
the plant got in contact with the old manufacturing engineer who's been retired
many years. He arrives unceremoniously, looks around the machine, asks for a
hammer, and whacks the machine three
times in the middle of a panel with the hammer. Lo and behold, the machine sputters
to life and starts to work smoothly anew. The retiree walks away saying: “you
guys will be getting a bill from me”. A few days later, the bill arrives with a
single number: $10,001. The corporate CFO blows his top, and calls the retiree
screaming: I don't understand why I should be paying you, this is an outrageous
amount of money when all you did was whack the machine three times with our
hammer. I need an itemized bill. Another bill arrives a few days later, it's
itemized. It says: $1: Hitting the machine three times, $10,000 for knowing
where to hit the machine. And that, to me, is the essence of having experience:
knowing how to use the experience to diagnose the problems, knowing why the
machines were not working, and how to fix it.
Realizing, of course, that not all experience is great or
useful. My friend Al’s favorite saying was: do you have 20 years’ worth of experience,
or did you just have one year of experience 20 times? I have known many people who
are very limited in what they have experienced, what they have observed, and
what their experience can do for them in application. But, when it comes down
to it, I would rather have experience because experience is not something that
can be learned or memorized from a book. Experience is sentient information,
connected to learned knowledge filtered through the prior experience into more knowledge.
The advantage that the inexperienced have is that they are
not cynical because they have no pre-conceived notions. In their minds, there
are no highs too high and lows too low because they have no experiential
reference. The main mission of young engineers, actually all engineers, are to
wreak havoc, create problems, propose outrageous solutions, experience as much
failure as they can, but also to learn from them; that is how one accumulates
experience, rather than having the same experience repeatedly.
The spirit of making mistakes, experiencing failures with
every challenge is the first thing that dies as the engineer gets older. The hard
limits set on the inexperienced engineers come from both the employer’s
conservatism, they are after all, paying for those failures; far more insidious
is the engineer’s tendency to self-censor in deference to the employer’s anticipated
response to failures. Not all engineers wither under the employer’s
expectations, some are able to keep their curiosity and spirit of fresh
perspectives alive.
The chief engineer and
a bunch of other engineers at one of the companies I work for were sitting
around having a beer after a really good technical discussion, I asked him: how
much money do you think you've cost the company over the years by your failures
or errors in judgement? He ponders the question a bit and he says: $2 million. We
were stunned by the number and started questioning him about how he got to that
number. He replied: if I didn't cost the company $2 million, then I wouldn’t be
trying hard enough and I wouldn’t be
contributing enough with all of my ability, because failures and mistakes comes
with the art of engineering.
This is what young engineers bring to the party from the
beginning. They should have no fear; because there will be enough experienced
engineers around to check their ideas and avoid the truly outrageous and
predictable failures and mistakes. Of course, corporate managers and the
engineer’s natural proclivity towards being safe and conservative can and most
often does kill the spirit of invention that are the most desirable trait for
the newly minted engineers. Management will often whack the new young engineers
on the nose with a figurative and proverbial rolled-up newspaper when they make
any mistakes, which effectively cures them of any initiative and creativity.
Reality of course demands something in the middle: engineers
with creativity, courage of their convictions,
and the spirit of invention while also having experience and the ability
to think critically to avoid making the nonsensical, predictable, and egregious
errors.
As I am on the downside of my engineering career. I have
been taking a 20/20 hindsight at my career. Regrets and lamentations are the
natural reaction while looking back at the painful mistakes, miscues, and
missteps that are vivid in my memory. There is no sense in crying over spilt
milk. I judged myself as being too deferential as a young engineer and too
cynical as an older engineer. I deferred to my experienced and elder colleagues
when it comes to ideas that are untested and original, and I self-censored
those same type of ideas later on in my career because: ”That will never work.”
I was fearful of exposing myself and suffering from the vagaries of corporate politics.
I have rediscovered my motivation to be aggressive, to try
things, and to make mistakes after I moved on from the corporate world. Why did
I? Why am I so much more open to it? The main motivation, as far as I can
figure it, is that I no longer have that sword of Damocles of being employed in
the long-term hanging over my head. Partly because the subjects of my study are
topics that I find curious. The general feeling is that if I happen to
contribute, so be it.
Getting back to experience, I look at the amount of experience that are cycling
out of volleyball coaching from the people who are retiring, getting out of the
game — either voluntarily or forcibly — and I think about the significant,
deep, and broad body of knowledge that will be disappearing from the state of
the game; a pool of knowledge that can’t and possibly won't ever be taught or repeated because the knowledge is resident within that person. I also think
about the parallel loss of knowledge in engineering that disappears with
engineers that are made redundant and retired. I wonder if all that is lost
forever, whether all the knowledge lost throughout history is also lost
forever. Do we lose a volume of knowledge that is an equivalent of the library
of Alexandria with every generation of retirees?
Of course, not all the experiential losses are equally
valuable for posterity. Engineering and coaching evolve and mostly improve as
the arts advance over time. Analytical methods are improved upon by numerical
methods bolstered by computational capabilities. Coaching methods are improved
upon by the integration of psychology, human mechanics, cognitive sciences, and
motor learning into known paradigms. The question is whether the body of
knowledge lost is valuable.
Why talk about this? Well, it just occurs to me that we are
losing knowledge and wisdom in the form of intangible, undocumented, and
unorganized experience. I am sure that many of those who have left the game,
both in volleyball and engineering, will be documenting some of their knowledge
in the future. Hugh McCutcheon already has a new book published recently in
conjunction with his transition from coaching players to coaching coaches. That
is not the knowledge that I am concerned with; my concern is with the
intangible knowledge, the extemporaneous decision-making basis of the retired
coaches and engineers.
It seems that we are in the midst of a changing of the
guard, coaches who are of a certain generation are leaving the game, realizing
that coaching volleyball at the highest level of competition in the US is a
young person’s game. While younger coaches are getting their opportunities to
sit in the big chair, it is the natural course of human endeavors. My
recognition of the ebb and flow does not mean that I cannot lament and wonder
about the loss of wisdom, just as I lament and wonder about the loss of wisdom
in engineering as I watched my mentors and icons retire and pass away.
My hope is that we take advantage of these coaches and
engineers, to use them as references, sounding boards, and resource. My hope is
that we actively seek out that wisdom rather than waiting for them to volunteer
their wisdom.
Given our society’s current preoccupation with Artificial
Intelligence, I hope we are perspicacious enough to indulge and invest in
natural intelligence that are the retired coaches and engineers.
