Not Fitting In: How Much Does It Really Matter?
My first "team bonding activity" with the US National Allround Team back in the spring of 2003 was like one of those dreadfully humiliating experiences that most of us can recall from middle school. We all gathered in the Team USA locker room at the Oval one day for a meeting with our team psychologist. Upon arrival, he told us to go around the room telling each team member what color they remind us of, and why.
Thinking that the point of this drill was to build morale, I was careful to say something positive about each person. On the other hand, I wasn't too happy with what I heard about myself: "Black, black, gray, black, gray, gray... Don't understand the things she does; seems angry; doesn't talk much, etc."
But when it came to Kristine Holzer's turn, she said, "I don't understand YOU guys. With Eva, what you see is what you get." Chris Callis and Tom Cushman also managed to find good things to say, but that was pretty much it.
Upon completion of this exercise, our psychologist commented, "If you heard mostly good things about yourself from your teammates, then you are fine. If you heard mostly negative things, then MAYBE YOU NEED TO THINK ABOUT CHANGING SOME THINGS ABOUT YOURSELF."
At first, this didn't make me feel too happy, but then I began to think a bit more critically about the situation. Why did so many of these people take a negative view of me? On the other hand, who were those who said positive things, and do they differ in any way from the others?
When I brought the issue up with my own sports psychologist some time later, he suggested that maybe the differences in various team members' backgrounds and experiences led to miscommunication and conflict when we were thrown together.
In my life, I don't deal with people in terms of stereotypes. Every new person I meet starts out with an equal chance to impress or disappoint me. However, when I found myself running into problems with some of my teammates, I had to start looking at our differences in order to figure things out.
Many U.S. skaters have done nothing but skate for their whole lives. Some may have worked a job here or there, or taken a few college classes, but, for the most part, speedskating has been their main activity and goal. I, on the other hand, have finished college and 2 years of grad school. This isn't meant to be bragging - I am merely stating a fact, and I think it is significant that I get along so well with Kristine Holzer, who has also completed her education.
Never in a million years would I have thought that my "being an intellectual" would lead to conflict with my fellow athletes. I just thought I'd show up at the Oval like everyone else, train hard, and things would be fine. I guess I should have known better. Even in that cycling book I was reading - "The Crooked Path to Victory: Drugs and Cheating in Professional Bicycle Racing" - there was a brief passage about one cyclist that showed a similar difficulty with fitting in with the rest of the guys:
"(Erwann) Mentheour (was) an educated man, whose love of reading, ability with languages, and skill on the piano marked him out as an intellectual to be disliked by other riders..."
Why would this be worth mentioning if it weren't an issue? Apparently, it is.
I could probably have tried a little harder to be sociable on World Cup trips, but sometimes I just didn't have the ability to come up with more to say than "Hi" or "Bye." I didn't race well in my first few years on the circuit, and I was often quite depressed. Come dinner time, I didn't feel much like joining in to a conversation about "nutsacks and bodily functions" after I had just finished second-to-last in the B Group, again.
The concept of "team spirit" is different for everyone. An interesting story about the Norwegian team was related to me by my roommate, Jannicke. She said that, right before the 1994 Olympics, Johann Olav Koss was having major trouble with his racing because he was being affected by negative feedback from his team and/or coaches. He somehow managed to qualify for the Olympics anyway, and, as a solution to his problem at the Olympic Games, he put one of his friends on each turn to shout words of encouragement to him during his races. It worked, and he won 3 gold medals.
Considering the significance of "team spirit" in my own life and skating career: In this way I am not like Koss. The attitudes of those around me have not had a significant impact on my results. I've raced in front of people who really wanted me to win, and for whom I wanted to do well. I've raced in front of people who hate my guts and want to see me crash and burn. I've raced in front of people who don't know and don't care who I am. None of this has ever made one bit of difference in my ability to execute my race.
For me, the social/team environment is a non-issue. In the same way that it doesn't matter to me that my federation does not support me, it doesn't matter to me that I don't necessarily fit in with the national team. It doesn't matter because it can't matter, and I have been strong enough to make it so.
Speedskating is an individual sport, but not one that welcomes individuality. There does seem to be a certain image to uphold - perhaps one of the patriotic, white-bread, smiling, parade-riding Olympian - a sort of "protocol," if you will, for being a metric speedskater. I realize that my style and attitude would probably be more welcome in a sport like snowboarding. I also realize that someone who is trying to uphold the "Golden Boy image" might see me as a "sneering intellectual with a chip on her shoulder."
To some extent, my education and career background gives me the opportunity to thumb my nose at authority and public opinion, because I don't need to make money at speedskating. This alone could get me into conflict with someone who feels pressure to uphold the image of the Ideal Speedskater.
All of us speedskaters come into this sport with different motivations. There is more than one way to the top, and every great athlete's vision is strong in its own way. Maybe the vision that one of my teammates sees as the final destination point is the smiling faces of a hometown crowd when he rides by in a victory parade. And maybe what I see is skating a victory lap with my gold medal held up in the air like the severed head of a defeated enemy.
Our team shrink had told us that if we don't like what others say about us, then we should change ourselves. That's the first time in my life that I've heard such a load of crap. I found it extremely poor advice to give to athletes competing in what is ultimately an individual sport. Eventually, I came to the realization that if I bent over backwards to accommodate the demands of the team, then I would destroy everything inside of me that drives me towards victory on the ice. And that would do no one any good.
My first "team bonding activity" with the US National Allround Team back in the spring of 2003 was like one of those dreadfully humiliating experiences that most of us can recall from middle school. We all gathered in the Team USA locker room at the Oval one day for a meeting with our team psychologist. Upon arrival, he told us to go around the room telling each team member what color they remind us of, and why.
Thinking that the point of this drill was to build morale, I was careful to say something positive about each person. On the other hand, I wasn't too happy with what I heard about myself: "Black, black, gray, black, gray, gray... Don't understand the things she does; seems angry; doesn't talk much, etc."
But when it came to Kristine Holzer's turn, she said, "I don't understand YOU guys. With Eva, what you see is what you get." Chris Callis and Tom Cushman also managed to find good things to say, but that was pretty much it.
Upon completion of this exercise, our psychologist commented, "If you heard mostly good things about yourself from your teammates, then you are fine. If you heard mostly negative things, then MAYBE YOU NEED TO THINK ABOUT CHANGING SOME THINGS ABOUT YOURSELF."
At first, this didn't make me feel too happy, but then I began to think a bit more critically about the situation. Why did so many of these people take a negative view of me? On the other hand, who were those who said positive things, and do they differ in any way from the others?
When I brought the issue up with my own sports psychologist some time later, he suggested that maybe the differences in various team members' backgrounds and experiences led to miscommunication and conflict when we were thrown together.
In my life, I don't deal with people in terms of stereotypes. Every new person I meet starts out with an equal chance to impress or disappoint me. However, when I found myself running into problems with some of my teammates, I had to start looking at our differences in order to figure things out.
Many U.S. skaters have done nothing but skate for their whole lives. Some may have worked a job here or there, or taken a few college classes, but, for the most part, speedskating has been their main activity and goal. I, on the other hand, have finished college and 2 years of grad school. This isn't meant to be bragging - I am merely stating a fact, and I think it is significant that I get along so well with Kristine Holzer, who has also completed her education.
Never in a million years would I have thought that my "being an intellectual" would lead to conflict with my fellow athletes. I just thought I'd show up at the Oval like everyone else, train hard, and things would be fine. I guess I should have known better. Even in that cycling book I was reading - "The Crooked Path to Victory: Drugs and Cheating in Professional Bicycle Racing" - there was a brief passage about one cyclist that showed a similar difficulty with fitting in with the rest of the guys:
"(Erwann) Mentheour (was) an educated man, whose love of reading, ability with languages, and skill on the piano marked him out as an intellectual to be disliked by other riders..."
Why would this be worth mentioning if it weren't an issue? Apparently, it is.
I could probably have tried a little harder to be sociable on World Cup trips, but sometimes I just didn't have the ability to come up with more to say than "Hi" or "Bye." I didn't race well in my first few years on the circuit, and I was often quite depressed. Come dinner time, I didn't feel much like joining in to a conversation about "nutsacks and bodily functions" after I had just finished second-to-last in the B Group, again.
The concept of "team spirit" is different for everyone. An interesting story about the Norwegian team was related to me by my roommate, Jannicke. She said that, right before the 1994 Olympics, Johann Olav Koss was having major trouble with his racing because he was being affected by negative feedback from his team and/or coaches. He somehow managed to qualify for the Olympics anyway, and, as a solution to his problem at the Olympic Games, he put one of his friends on each turn to shout words of encouragement to him during his races. It worked, and he won 3 gold medals.
Considering the significance of "team spirit" in my own life and skating career: In this way I am not like Koss. The attitudes of those around me have not had a significant impact on my results. I've raced in front of people who really wanted me to win, and for whom I wanted to do well. I've raced in front of people who hate my guts and want to see me crash and burn. I've raced in front of people who don't know and don't care who I am. None of this has ever made one bit of difference in my ability to execute my race.
For me, the social/team environment is a non-issue. In the same way that it doesn't matter to me that my federation does not support me, it doesn't matter to me that I don't necessarily fit in with the national team. It doesn't matter because it can't matter, and I have been strong enough to make it so.
Speedskating is an individual sport, but not one that welcomes individuality. There does seem to be a certain image to uphold - perhaps one of the patriotic, white-bread, smiling, parade-riding Olympian - a sort of "protocol," if you will, for being a metric speedskater. I realize that my style and attitude would probably be more welcome in a sport like snowboarding. I also realize that someone who is trying to uphold the "Golden Boy image" might see me as a "sneering intellectual with a chip on her shoulder."
To some extent, my education and career background gives me the opportunity to thumb my nose at authority and public opinion, because I don't need to make money at speedskating. This alone could get me into conflict with someone who feels pressure to uphold the image of the Ideal Speedskater.
All of us speedskaters come into this sport with different motivations. There is more than one way to the top, and every great athlete's vision is strong in its own way. Maybe the vision that one of my teammates sees as the final destination point is the smiling faces of a hometown crowd when he rides by in a victory parade. And maybe what I see is skating a victory lap with my gold medal held up in the air like the severed head of a defeated enemy.
Our team shrink had told us that if we don't like what others say about us, then we should change ourselves. That's the first time in my life that I've heard such a load of crap. I found it extremely poor advice to give to athletes competing in what is ultimately an individual sport. Eventually, I came to the realization that if I bent over backwards to accommodate the demands of the team, then I would destroy everything inside of me that drives me towards victory on the ice. And that would do no one any good.
posted by Eva at 3:01 PM
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