Beveridge is a players’ coach, a leader with a knack for persuading unremarkable men to do extraordinary things
Fifteen years ago, almost to the day, at quarter-time of a C-grade suburban grand final, I watched a rookie playing-coach address his players. Team talks at that level are often a shambles. The Churchillian rev-ups fall flat. Player-coaches in particular are usually so knackered they can barely string two syllables together.
Luke Beveridge was different. His players were a mix of shapes, sizes and talents. They had got themselves too fizzed up and had spent most of the first quarter playing with 17 men. The coach did not rant. He did not overload them with information. He demanded their eyes. He ticked a few of them off. He calmed the rest of them down. He did not look like a lovey-dovey coach. He looked like the sort of bloke who spent his Saturday afternoons deadlifting and stewing. But he told them how much he loved them, how much he believed in them. His players, who were all playing for nothing, were fully locked in with him. Back in 2006 footy coaches – and Australian men generally – didn’t really talk like that. They didn’t talk about vulnerability and connection. “I’m an emotional beast”, he said many years later. “I cry watching cartoons.”
Continue reading...from The Guardian https://ift.tt/3BMWb7s
via
0 Comments