For twenty years Swimwatch posts have discussed the evil futility of centralised training. Every argument was debated and exposed. And for no return. Jan Cameron, Bruce Cotterill and Peter Miskimmim were obsessed. Drag swimmers up to Auckland, train them under one roof and provide benefits not available in the rest of the country were seen as New Zealand’s path to a golden future.

It didn’t work. It was never going to work. It was easier to blame the author of Swimwatch than answer the question of why Olympic Games after Olympic Games came and went without swimming success. David Wright was a troublemaker. Those involved in making the centralised programme work, weren’t doing it properly.  New Zealand needed another foreign Head Coach. Monte Python’s circus had nothing on the fiasco Cotterill, Cameron and Miskimmim put swimming through.

But worse than the damage done to the sport, the damage done to two generations of young New Zealand swimmers was a disaster. It didn’t matter whether you were a swimmer on the inside being indulged by Cotterill’s largess or on the outside toiling up and down some provincial swimming pool. The destruction was equally severe.

On the inside the special platforms and seats at the National Championships, the selected free uniforms, the team meetings at Commonwealth Games that only Swimming New Zealand coached swimmers could attend, and the free coaching produced its own form of sporting apartheid. Them and us, it was there for all to see. It was sick. It was wrong. And it conveyed an unmistakable message.

“You are the recipients of all these benefits. You had better produce a result.”  

And of course, it didn’t. Why? Because Swimming New Zealand had produced a pressurised, toxic environment incapable of sporting success. For years I watched good swimmers come and go, try and fail. At times I wondered whether the tragedy that has happened in cycling would happen first in swimming. Fortunately, in swimming, those hurt most just got out and retired. The sport’s membership fell by a pretty consistent 8% per annum. Good swimmers packed their bags and caught a flight across the Pacific to earn an education for their labour. Internationally New Zealand was incapable of making a world class final. The standard of New Zealand coaching collapsed. But Cameron, Cotterill and Miskimmin persisted. And swimming escaped without paying the ultimate price.

For those of us on the outside the effects of centralised training were just as severe.  We were left explaining to loyal swimmers why they had to pay to attend swim meets while, often slower swimmers in the Swimming New Zealand program attended for free. We struggled to find a reason Swimming New Zealand coached swimmers sat on flash chairs on a raised platform at the National Championships while our world class swimmer struggled to find space on a concrete bench beside the West Wave pool.

But worst of all, we were ignored. Two of New Zealand’s fastest breaststroke swimmers left my coaching program to swim at United States’ universities. One went to Hawaii and the other to Washington State. The circumstances of them leaving and living in the United States were eerily similar. Both were national open champions. Both swam for New Zealand in international events immediately before leaving, one in the Oceania Championships, the other in the Pan Pacific Games. Both were successful in those events, one set a new national relay record, the other won a place medal in her final. Both caught an airplane, flew to the United States, stayed for four years and not once were contacted by swimming New Zealand. No note asking about their progress. No congratulations on a personal best swim. They weren’t in Swimming New Zealand’s centralised program. They weren’t even in the country. They didn’t exist.

For young New Zealanders who have worked for a decade getting good enough to represent their country that sort of rejection is hard to take. As one of the same swimmers was told by a National Coach, Swimming New Zealand’s silence screamed, “You are a national embarrassment.” It was all no problem for the self-interest of Swimming New Zealand’s centralised programme. Swimming New Zealand’s self-interest justified any abuse, validated any atrocity.

And then it changed. Cameron was no more, Cotterill resigned and Miskimmim was in the process of retiring. Sport New Zealand had turned its attention to rowing, canoeing and cycling. Cambridge, not the North Shore, was where Sport New Zealand would build its centralised empire.

The new guys at Swimming New Zealand were Steve Johns and Gary Francis. Somehow or another they came to the opinion change was needed. Instead of slavishly repeating the errors of the past, swimming would drop the centralised policy and build a program around the American club-based coaching structure.  

And that is what we have now. But best of all, what a difference. The decision has been a breath of fresh air. The abuse has eased. The swimming is better. There is a feeling that success is close at hand.

Those involved in the sport need to be aware that it took twenty years to bring swimming to its knees. No matter how bold or correct the decisions of Johns and Francis might be, the abuse and failures of twenty years will not be fixed in five minutes. But does it feel better being involved in a sport where your efforts have a chance of success? Of course, it does.

More important than all that – is it better to be involved in a sport where rotten policies that caused untold hurt and mental stress have been discarded. Discarded and replaced by a more caring, a more sympathetic programme. You bet your life it does. At least those that we coach now are safe from systematic, structured abuse. Well done Swimming New Zealand. Well done Steve Johns and Gary Francis. To quote Mohammed Ali, “You done splendid.”

‘Pawns in adult power games’ (newsroom.co.nz)

The tragic death of Olivia Podmore has prompted many people involved in sport to air views previously hidden for fear of reprisal. The cleansing effect of the new openness is both welcome and long overdue.

One of the better examples is an article I read this morning on the news website, www.newsroom.co.nz . I recommend anyone involved in sport and especially involved in swimming read this astonishing piece by Jane Copland.

The essay lays bare the mental horror show brought on by NZ’s sport’s experiment with centralized training. Power corrupts and absolute power corrupts absolutely. That was certainly the case in the sport of swimming.

But then swimming saw the light. Steve Johns and Gary Francis tossed out the decaying fabric of the centralised structure and replaced it with an American style decentralised model. The change has been immediate and rapid. There is still some distance to travel. But the corruption described in the Newsroom story is in the past. The sport is heading to a better place.

We are, however, best not to forget the hurt inflicted on members in the bad days. And that is why I recommend you read this essay. You can find it at;

‘Pawns in adult power games’ (newsroom.co.nz)

The tragic death of Olivia Podmore has brought the issue of athletes’ mental health to the front and centre of national sporting attention. Discussing the topic with one of the athletes I help with her swimming, we decided that a series of Swimwatch stories on the subject may have value.

Our plan is to write each story on an aspect of sporting mental health from two points of view. I am a practical swim coach with many years experience in helping swimmers reach their potential. I have had ten athletes take part in national representative teams. Alex is a practicing triathlete with a PhD in cognitive science and sociology. She has a background in psychology and counselling: https://medium.com/@dralexhart  https://www.instagram.com/dr_alexhart/  .

Perhaps the combination of my practical experience and Alex’s academic training can make a contribution where it is desperately needed.

We first decided to tackle the subject of, “What is the issue” and how are its effects felt by the athlete?

I chose that topic after reading a Stuff article by Gary Hermansson. Gary calls himself a performance psychologist and counsellor educator. The last thing I want to do is tear holes in Gary’s essay on the problems of athletes mental health. He has clearly taken considerable time and effort to discuss the topic. The problem is he misses the central issue.

The mental problems faced by athletes are seldom those associated with winning and losing or training. The hardships of the sport itself are seldom the problem. Most athletes, especially international athletes, know all about those and accept and enjoy the challenges. No matter how much Gary might like to make sport the problem, it is not. So, what is?

We were pointed in the right direction to the answer by Olivia Podmore’s final Facebook post. It’s the politics. The never-ending put-downs. Or as Tonya Harding put it so well, “Why can’t it just be about the skating?” Or as UK football coach, Brian Clough said in a 1970s interview on the BBC, “We’ve talked about football for an hour and still haven’t passed a football yet.”

In my experience over 68 years involved in swimming the problem to be addressed is not about swimming, not about sport. It is about politics. When I was four years old, I went to swim at the Haitatai Swimming Club at a local beach. I applied to swim 800m for the Swimming NZ certificate. I was allocated an official to count my lengths and set off. Thirty-two lengths later I stopped. My counting official was not there. He had, I was told, gone home to lunch. I could not have the certificate because the counter was not there. I was devastated. I went home and told my mother. She was a formidable woman who took me back to the beach and demanded justice. I got the certificate.

Even as a four year old, the problem in that event was not the swim. It was politics.  Those sorts of events repeated a thousand times to me and to those I have helped are the cause of mental distress. Usually, athletes retire or move on to the USA university scene or choose a worse option. Whatever the choice to escape, it is not sports fault. It is certainly not the athletes’ fault. Responsibility lies with administrators and parents. All too often they have gone home to lunch.

And now here is what Alex thinks.

The word “politics” is derived from the Greek: Πολιτικά, politiká, ‘affairs of the cities’ and refers to the manner in which those with power make decisions for a group. Politics literally refers to the power relations between individuals and between individuals and organisations. Political relations determine the distribution of recognition, resources and rights. The exercise of political power places some people in a position of privilege and discriminates against others. Politics is not just a question of which party you vote for. Politics define how we view people according to their gender, skin colour, ethnic and cultural membership, beliefs (religious, spiritual etc.), age, financial status, health status, appearance (including a person’s size and shape), level of success and increasingly, through social media, a person’s perceived popularity and power to influence.

The way you are viewed and treated by others is shaped by the political lenses they apply to you, whether they perceive you to deserve those lenses personally or through association. It’s important to recognise that politics creates both disadvantage and advantage. If you are a 6 foot 4 slim male white American swimmer you will be politically advantaged over a 5 foot 4 female curvy Syrian swimmer. This advantage or disadvantage will be applied regardless of your dedication to the process of training or even the results you produce. Politics is not the whole story, but in an environment like high performance sport, where the smallest advantage can make the difference, the influence of politics is likely to be felt very acutely.

How does political influence operate?

Firstly, the influence of politics is obvious in the attitudes, behaviours and decision- making of those around you in positions of power. Those who are advantaged by politics tend to be ‘blind’ to that advantage and see it as their fair entitlement. Those who are disadvantaged by politics, on the other hand, live in what I refer to as a toxic psychological and emotional environment that constantly requires them to navigate uncertainty, ambiguity, and irrational discriminatory behaviour. That discriminatory behaviour creates micro and macro-trauma. The way that trauma, especially micro-trauma operates has been the topic of my academic research and is something that I contend with in practice on a daily basis.

Uncertainty and ambiguity are stressful and interfere with motivation. It is much easier to work hard towards a goal when you know that your efforts will be fairly rewarded. You will be less impacted by irrational criticism or judgement and others will be more likely to support you and invest in your efforts.

Further, the micro and macro-trauma that result from discriminatory interactions with others accumulates over time. Macro-traumas are generally well recognised. If there is a death in the family we are given paid time off work to process this, for instance. What is more insidious is the slow creep of the accumulation of micro-trauma that goes unrecognised, unacknowledged and unaddressed. The snide remarks and judgemental glances aimed towards a female athlete who has gained weight, the unspoken assumption that short swimmers will never amount to anything, the lack of acknowledgement by the media and others of women’s sporting accomplishments, the lack of access to parking spaces for people of your ethnic identity, the inconsiderate behaviour of male swimmers towards fast women swimmers, being ignored in shops because you appear to have no money … this is a long list and it is not just water off a duck’s back! It is the oil that accumulates in our feathers and begins a slow process of wearing the politically disadvantaged down until they sink. But that is not where the story of micro-trauma ends.

Because as human beings we are naturally empathetic and literally model the behaviour of others with the mirror neurons in our brains, we internalise the political discrimination that we experience. This process of internalising both advantage and disadvantage shapes the way we relate to ourselves. Those who experience political advantage develop an irrational positively skewed internal voice that can actually interfere with how accurately they appraise their own achievements and capabilities. This can backfire on the effort and motivation brought to training. On the other hand, those who experience political disadvantage develop a ‘critical internal voice’. This critical internal voice operates 24/7 (yes, it even impacts on our dreams during sleep) and begins to cut us down from the inside. This critical internal voice exercises a level of hypervigilance that means it often beats others at their own game. We criticise ourselves before others get a chance and wearing the guise of protecting us from ambiguity and inconsistent nonsense this internal critical voice can even drown out the positive voices (such as the accurate advice provided by a good coach) that support us. It is better to cut yourself down first and be in control of the pain than be caught off guard by its delivery at an uncertain time and from an unpredictable source.