Smells Like Team Spirit: From the "Extraordinary" Pep Talk to the "Viking Raiders"...
As I was pondering the existence of a cohesive plan for the US Speedskating Team over the past 4 years of this Olympic cycle, this story came back into my mind.
It was February of 2003, and we were in Inzell, preparing for the last few World Cups of the first post-Olympic season. After dinner one night, program director Mike Crowe called a meeting in the hallway outside his room. As we gathered around, Crowe presented his vision for the next four years.
The basic message of the speech was, "These are the people you're most likely going to be traveling and competing with, through the next Olympics in Torino. So, be good to your teammates." After that, he went off on some long and convoluted tangent that kept coming back around to "being ordinary people doing extraordinary things." It kind of left us shaking our heads, but I think the main point was that we were supposed to be cooperative, supportive, and respectful towards each other, in order to help us feel happy and comfortable and perform well at the Games.
Since that night, what became of this message of team unity? How well did we follow through? Were relationships between teammates ever again held as sacred as they were for the 20-minute duration of that speech? Were people held accountable for their actions?
Team leadership starts from the top. It is not about a once-every-four-years lecture. It is about inspiration. It is about connecting with people. It is about being there, and about becoming one with your team, like Peter Mueller has done with the Norwegians. It is about making people come together like a family; about forming a group of people who wish each other well, rather than seeing their own teammates as "worse competition" than the Dutch!
I want to know how favoritism and unequal treatment were supposed to make us like each other. I want to know how discrimination against athletes who came from other training programs was supposed to make us feel like we're part of the team.
Did anyone ever discuss the fact that one of my teammates once left me without a ride to a competition, hopping on the last seat of another team's bus at the last minute, after we had planned to ride together? Did anyone ever try to stop the mentally destructive verbal abuse of Chris Callis, when the whole group ganged up on him on one Fall World Cup trip? These are just a few examples.
Over the course of the last four years, as the watchful eye of the program director turned away, toxic attitudes and malignancies crept unnoticed into the system. And no one was there to keep the group focused on the goal.
Those of us who trained with alternative programs always felt excluded. In fact, throughout my years of international-level competition, I never felt comfortable even thinking of myself as a "member of the U.S. Speedskating Team." I bet that if you asked each member of the board of directors, "What is the definition of the US Speedskating Team?" each one would come up with a different answer.
Personally, I lost my confidence in the team leadership a long time ago. When you hear some of them actually bad-mouthing their own athletes behind their backs, or when there's no way you can be sure they are on your side, even though you wear the USA uniform and race for them, you can't trust them. And how can you be inspired by someone you don't even trust?
Instead of building a strong and supportive team, the leadership of US Speedskating only managed to set up a "culture of enemies." Back when Tom Cushman accused the Norwegians of "stealing American intellectual property" - supposedly including our cooperative team training atmosphere -- maybe what he meant to say was, "So, that's where it went. The Norwegians took it!"
As I was pondering the existence of a cohesive plan for the US Speedskating Team over the past 4 years of this Olympic cycle, this story came back into my mind.
It was February of 2003, and we were in Inzell, preparing for the last few World Cups of the first post-Olympic season. After dinner one night, program director Mike Crowe called a meeting in the hallway outside his room. As we gathered around, Crowe presented his vision for the next four years.
The basic message of the speech was, "These are the people you're most likely going to be traveling and competing with, through the next Olympics in Torino. So, be good to your teammates." After that, he went off on some long and convoluted tangent that kept coming back around to "being ordinary people doing extraordinary things." It kind of left us shaking our heads, but I think the main point was that we were supposed to be cooperative, supportive, and respectful towards each other, in order to help us feel happy and comfortable and perform well at the Games.
Since that night, what became of this message of team unity? How well did we follow through? Were relationships between teammates ever again held as sacred as they were for the 20-minute duration of that speech? Were people held accountable for their actions?
Team leadership starts from the top. It is not about a once-every-four-years lecture. It is about inspiration. It is about connecting with people. It is about being there, and about becoming one with your team, like Peter Mueller has done with the Norwegians. It is about making people come together like a family; about forming a group of people who wish each other well, rather than seeing their own teammates as "worse competition" than the Dutch!
I want to know how favoritism and unequal treatment were supposed to make us like each other. I want to know how discrimination against athletes who came from other training programs was supposed to make us feel like we're part of the team.
Did anyone ever discuss the fact that one of my teammates once left me without a ride to a competition, hopping on the last seat of another team's bus at the last minute, after we had planned to ride together? Did anyone ever try to stop the mentally destructive verbal abuse of Chris Callis, when the whole group ganged up on him on one Fall World Cup trip? These are just a few examples.
Over the course of the last four years, as the watchful eye of the program director turned away, toxic attitudes and malignancies crept unnoticed into the system. And no one was there to keep the group focused on the goal.
Those of us who trained with alternative programs always felt excluded. In fact, throughout my years of international-level competition, I never felt comfortable even thinking of myself as a "member of the U.S. Speedskating Team." I bet that if you asked each member of the board of directors, "What is the definition of the US Speedskating Team?" each one would come up with a different answer.
Personally, I lost my confidence in the team leadership a long time ago. When you hear some of them actually bad-mouthing their own athletes behind their backs, or when there's no way you can be sure they are on your side, even though you wear the USA uniform and race for them, you can't trust them. And how can you be inspired by someone you don't even trust?
Instead of building a strong and supportive team, the leadership of US Speedskating only managed to set up a "culture of enemies." Back when Tom Cushman accused the Norwegians of "stealing American intellectual property" - supposedly including our cooperative team training atmosphere -- maybe what he meant to say was, "So, that's where it went. The Norwegians took it!"
posted by Eva at 1:35 PM
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