When England football coach, the Italian Fabio Capello, said he required only a maximum 100-word vocabulary to speak with his players about tactics, he grabbed a few ears.
Although rugby coaching might require a few more words than that, his reflection follows the sound and proven advice that you should never overestimate the capacity of your players to comprehend the simplest advice, so the fewer words the better.
Sometimes just a handful of words can make the complex simple but, equally, just a few words can also make a situation you wish was simple, complex. Take four words in rugby, for example – four words that no one likes hearing repeated as they were when the Waratahs packed scrum after scrum against the Chiefs. “Crouch, Touch, Pause, Engage.” Some referees take such a long time on the “Pause” that I’m sure they are pitching for a contract with the networks to place an ad in that time. They should take advice from Rebels owner and media buyer Harold Mitchell: I’m sure he’d concur that the only relevant slogan for that spot would be Nike’s.
When it comes to the proficient use of vocabulary, I only had one coach who regularly sent us to the dictionary and that was the late Greg Smith. On one of those occasions he referred to the press as pernicious bacillus (yes, I had to go to the dictionary again). That’s what you get when an English teacher becomes a coach.
Although I was never coached by him, I cannot imagine former Wallaby mentor Alan Jones being confined to 100 words either . . . and that’s just in his first sentence.
When you only have 100 words, you must choose them carefully and that’s where swear words come in handy. There is a certain economy in profanity. Consider the acronym covering “For Unlawful Carnal Knowledge” (also the title of a 1991 Van Halen album). The Macquarie Dictionary suggests up to 17 different variants for its potential use: as a noun, verb, interjection, exclamation, phrase, intensifier etc. Useful, isn’t it? Come to think of it, I’ve hardly heard a good pre-match speech without one.
Course language even comes in handy on the sideline. Bob Dwyer’s use of un-Queen-like English within earshot of Her Majesty in the closing seconds of the 1991 World Cup final would attest to that. His desperate “Kick it to the shithouse” would have accounted for about 5 per cent of his quota, especially as he was such a vigorous proponent of running rugby anyway. The singular, just as effective, yet more economical expletive described earlier, may have sufficed.
The 100-word limit begins to make sense when you consider some coaches say more by saying nothing, anyway. If a picture speaks a thousand words, an Eddie Jones stink eye multiplies it to the power of 10.
Jack Gibson was another master of frugality as he told a young Peter Sterling to “Kick it to the seagulls”, which in one sense is where the shit isn’t, proverbially at least, or when he said, “They’d boo Santa Claus, this mob”.
With the latter he was referring to the Lang Park crowd and not Waratah supporters, as all they want for Christmas is winning and running rugby. A bike would be a whole lot easier to arrange.
But life has changed and, as players become more intent on expressing themselves through their tattoos and in 140 characters or less, maybe Capello is on to something. Nonetheless, even if just for practical reasons, I’d still rather defer to face-to-face communication – if I change my mind, my favourite band or my football team some time after my 20s, at least I don’t have to make a trip to the tattoo removal shop.
If there was one group whose verbiage I would limit, however, it is the match officials. I would limit referees to 100 words or less and touch judges to 25. Too few? Well my sister-in-law won a chandelier in 25 words or less so surely they can curtail their contributions and still perform their duties.
People might think that such a limit is impossible, that a lot needs to be said in the change-room pre-match, but contrary to popular belief a focused change-room is not necessarily a verbose change-room.
Often it’s not so much words that are required but a look, a glance, a hug, a sign of the cross – even if you are playing the Crusaders. In fact some of the noisiest players and coaches talk more for themselves and their own nerves, so it really doesn’t matter what they say. A focused team already knows what they have to do without having to be told.
Perhaps Capello was referring to effective vocabulary rather than raw number of words; just the 100 that count. And sometimes the most important of those are back in the sanctity of the change-room after the final whistle where coaches must choose carefully.
So while the Brumbies and Force coaches, Tony Rea and Richard Graham, might have almost choked over their chosen few words after tight losses at the weekend, the Waratahs, Rebels and Reds coaches’ words would have flowed more joyously. In fact, a simple channelling of Jack Gibson would have sufficed: “Played good, done strong”.
Say no more.
Article from Rugby Heaven