Words Apart : Professor Instructs Coaches How to Relate to Players in a More Democratic System

Woody Hayes undoubtedly would have snarled and cuffed them behind the ears. Bobby Knight would probably call them wimps and throw a chair. Imagine, coaches taking a class in interpersonal skills. Actually discussing things like non-verbal communication and positive feedback. And trying to learn to resolve problems with players without resorting to violence.

What next? Giving players the right to vote?

Yes, says Donald R. Bethe, Ph. D., a professor in the department of kinesiology and physical education at Cal State Northridge. Bethe currently is teaching a class at UCLA Extension called Communication Skills for Coaches. The goal of the course is to bring coaches out of the dark ages and into an era of personal and social awareness.

“I’d like to see the Bobby Knights and Woody Hayeses become dinosaurs of the 20th Century,” Bethe said.

Hayes, the late football coach at Ohio State, was an old-fashioned taskmaster. His word was law. Forget democracy. Forget human rights. He believed in discipline and ruled by fear. Nobody dared question his authority. Problem players were ridiculed, belittled, berated, degraded and, says Bethe, dehumanized.

But even in the so-called enlightened ‘80s, Bethe says, clones of Hayes and Knight and Frank Kush are still coaching sports, from the pros to the peewees, practicing physical and mental abuse on your children. “It’s frightening,” Bethe said. Instead of being builders of youth, these coaches are “destroyers,” he said.

Someday, Bethe hopes, the state Legislature will enact a bill requiring all coaches to be certified in the area of interpersonal relationships. In the meantime, Bethe is waging his own educational campaign. His class meets once a week this semester on the UCLA campus in Westwood. Ten coaches--four college, six high school--each paid $150 to spend three hours each class discussing such topics as “comprehensive listening,” “responsibility training,” “resolving techniques” and “increasing personal control.”

A product of the social upheaval in the ‘60s, Bethe went to college during a time when sports was being revolutionized and rethought by radicals like Jack Scott and Dave Meggysey. His basic lessons are straight out of the Me Generation’s self-help books. His philosophy is more extreme, particularly for sports. It’s called “participatory governance,” in which the coach shares power with the players.

Although the Japanese have made a go of participatory governance in building cars, coaches still have a rough time accepting the notion that it’s in their best interests to share their power with players. “When you have a stake in the outcome, if you can participate in the decision making, then you will work harder to attain your goals,” Bethe said.

“But that doesn’t mean turning all the power over to the athletes. We’re talking democracy here. In a democracy, you still have a man in charge.”

In their informal structure of give and take, Bethe’s classes are reminiscent of ‘60s encounter groups. The 10 coaches sit in a semi-circle and bare their souls as they talk about the problems they have in dealing with today’s athletes. At a recent class, the coaches, each in his own stage of sociological evolution, were discussing just how far they should go in sharing power.

“What’s the really important thing here? Development of the individual? Or is winning the bottom line?” Tom asked. (Because of the nature of the discussion, the coaches voted to let the reporter remain in the class only on the condition that their real names not be used.)

“The reality is,” Bill said, “you don’t stay around long if you don’t win.”

“But is it worth winning if you don’t have fun?” Tom said.

“That’s the crux,” Bill said. “That tells you what your values are.”

Bethe interjected. “Sports is so powerful. If you get to these kids, you can turn their lives around.”

“But is that the job description, to assume those responsibilities?” Tom asked.

“Sports pulled me through to adulthood,” Bill replied.

Some of the coaches were reluctant to get too close to their athletes.

“A lot of times you have to deal with kids you don’t really like,” Bill said.

“Coaching today is a real struggle,” Tom said. “I used to demand total obedience, but today’s athletes are far more sophisticated and pampered for that. You’re manipulated into playing head games with them.”

Bill agreed. “You earn your money at Monday workouts,” he said. “The athletes are going to try to get out of working out, and I’m not going to let them do it.”

Jean, the only woman in the class, said she had “five unmistakable jerks” in her physical education class. Bethe said he preferred to use the word alienated .

“A lot of kids today don’t like their coach, even though they play and win,” Tom said. “They’re alienated.”

Said Bethe: “They respect the coach but not the person.”

The role model Bethe used as an example of good coaching was John Wooden. “I saw a study that said he had a 2-to-1 ratio of positive feedback to negative feedback,” Bethe said.

“I heard he never once mentioned the word winning ,” Bob said.

“You know the single most important reason for his success?” Bethe asked. “His intensity in the use of the word hustle .”

At the end of the class, Bethe gave the coaches a 12-question test that revealed just how people-oriented they are. After the coaches graded themselves on the test, Bethe asked if any were surprised by the results. A couple said they were. Then he drew an “inverted U curve” and a circle on the blackboard and discussed “forming, storming, norming and performing,” the process by which a coach begins a season.

Their assignment for the next week, Bethe said, was to strike up a conversation with a total stranger. The object was to be “an active listener” and read the person’s feelings.

After class, Bethe talked about his background in sports. When he got to CSUN in 1969, he coached water polo and taught a class on the social and psychological aspects of sports. After one class, he says, a couple of his players told him, “What you say in class and do in the pool isn’t the same.”

It was then that Bethe realized he was being pulled in two directions--his idealistic self wanted to coach one way, but his old values were too entrenched to let him.

“I couldn’t change,” he said. But he thinks others can. “It takes work,” he said.