The Power of Teams

I have been thinking about the power of teams. One of the most overused phrases around is "there is no I in team.". This phrase a ridiculous cliche that completely understates the incredible benefits of being part of a team. The power of teams goes so far beyond words and images. When a group of people gather together with a common purpose in mind, amazing things happen.

I feel very fortunate to have spent most of my life as a part of different types of teams. Early in my life, I played sports and was involved in group activities like Cubs. These opportunities exposed me to incredible role models and leaders. I wrote about many of these people in Things I've Learned From People I Admire. All of my closest friends, the people I wrote about in Stand By Me are people who have been my teammates in some shape or form. There is something galvanizing and life changing about being part of a team. Your shared experiences build memories that become permanently imprinted in who you are.

The vast majority of my team experiences come from being involved in sports. Over the years, I have played and/or coached hockey, rugby, soccer, volleyball, basketball, slow-pitch softball, skiing, cross-country running and track. I have watched major sporting events live and on television. Sports and competition speak to a primordial impulse, the survival of the fittest. For me, it does not matter whether I am playing, coaching or watching. When I identify with a team, there is nothing I want more than the success of that team. I wrote about my passion for hockey in The Game I Love but I can think of parallel experiences in many other aspects of my life.

Early in my teaching career, I spent my entire life in the school. I taught, coached, stayed late, played floor hockey and hung out with the caretakers. I spent evenings and weekends in the school marking, planning and simply hanging around. I was a rookie teacher and great people like Brad Anderson, Phil Penner, Jim Schlachter, Rob Willms and Daryl Zilinski took me under their wing. They helped me learn, relax and served as tremendous role models. Our school's administration team of Barrie Wilson, Sue Peters and Murray Saul were very much like our coaching staff. They led by example and taught me many great lessons about what it takes to be a successful teacher. My success was very much a result of the support and guidance from the people around me. 

Ultimately, my experience as a beginning teacher was analogous to my experience as an athlete. Just as an individual athlete cannot play a game without teammates, an individual teacher cannot reach their potential without the support of colleagues and administration. In a previous post called What Makes a Great School Great? I wrote about the strengths of the school I currently work at. In so many ways, our school is like a powerhouse hockey team. We have seasoned veterans, talented rookies, and an overall sense of unity. The students and parents in our school have high expectations and our staff rise to meet those expectations to the best of their ability. As a teacher, leader, administrator and parent of children who have attended our school, I can say with certainty that it is an amazing and high-performing team.

People who understand teams understand that individual success IS important. If team members do not feel the "I" component of contributing to the team, they don't reach their potential. The precise formula for success is never the same. Success might look like Don Cherry's 1977-78 Boston Bruins with 11 players who scored 20 or more goals. It might look like the Edmonton Oilers of the early 1980s, with 6 future Hall of Famers. Achieving the ultimate goal requires all team members to move in the same direction toward a common goal. There is a balance between "we" and "me", but both aspects need to be nurtured. 

In the end, I am a better person thanks to my involvement in teams. I understand that my personal goals need to fall within the framework of the place I work. I am not more important or less important than the people around me. I need them and they need me to be my best. This is true in my workplace, in athletics and in my family life. Teams have given me my best memories, my most powerful lessons and my best friends. Teams can make you jump in the air, punch walls, howl like a banshee and cry like prairie storm. They energize your limbs with excitement and can paralyze you with gut-wrenching anticipation.

We need to understand that the greatest things are achieved by teams. We may not always win and we may not always fulfill expectations, but when we feel a responsibility to those around us, our achievement is always greater. It is in the collective push that we find the power of teams.

The Game I Love

Playoff beards. Dropping the flippers. Right skate first. Warm up tunes. Post game snacks and rehydration. Chirping the other team's goalie. Superstitions. Early morning practices. Freezing in the stands or on the bench. Riding the pine. Arena burgers. Going end to end. Road trips!!!

If you have played, watched or coached hockey, I'm sure you know what I mean. How does it get better than hockey? I can really remember the last 35 years of my life. I've been involved with hockey for each of those years. I've been concussed, elated, suspended, protected, selected, responsible, irresponsible. I've been a leader, a prospect, washed up, a coach, a teacher, a parent and a diehard fan. I've spilled buckets of blood and tankers of sweat. Hockey paid for my university education, but it still cost my parents thousands of dollars. It is full of paradoxes but it is oh, so perfect in so many ways.

With the possible exception of my family and fishing, nothing gets me more excited than hockey. The speed, the violence and the skill of the game set it apart from every other sport. Skating is not natural for the vast majority of people in the world. Anyone can throw, hit, or kick a ball. Very few can execute a pivot from forwards to backwards, throw a head fake and crank a tight turn on skates. Even fewer can pull off a toe drag at top speed, freeze the d-man and snap it over the goalie's shoulder. Fewer still can stack the pads, flash leather for a glove save and stretch a butterfly while doing the splits. Hockey is special. It is Canada's little secret that only a few people around the world really understand. Hockey is to sport what The Tragically Hip is to music.

I spent the past weekend watching the western Canadian Junior B hockey championship tournament, the Keystone Cup. The host team, the Sherwood Park Knights, is a team I captained and coached. I have many great memories associated with hockey and so many of them involve the Knights. As a good friend of mine pointed out, the young men who play for the Knights have no illusions. They understand what every kid who dreams of playing in the NHL eventually understands. Very few are selected and even fewer make a living in this game. When you play Junior B, you stop playing for yourself and your parents and really start playing for the guys beside you in the dressing room. You play to be around the game and hang out with the team. If you work hard enough, you get a chance to win your league, play in provincials or, if you are really fortunate, play for an even bigger prize like the Keystone Cup.

On Saturday, I volunteered and worked security for the tournament, which meant that I spent my entire day in the Sherwood Park Arena. I watched 5 games between 6 different teams. What struck me was that, no matter where the team was from, the differences were minimal. The language, the energy, the intensity, the look, even the smell of each team was incredibly similar. The players, coaches, fans and volunteers for each team were passionate about hockey. They grew up playing the game and they all knew that this tournament was, for the majority of the players, their last chance to win something big.

My nephew played for the host team like his dad and his uncle. The Knights proved they belonged in the tournament and made it to the gold medal game. The arena was packed and the energy was unbelievable. The host team scored the first goal, but was not able to hold on to the lead. They hit posts, crossbars, and had many chances to even the score. When the buzzer sounded to end the game, the cheers of the winning team were drowned out by the sound of hearts breaking throughout the arena.

When I got to my truck after the game, tears poured out of me like I was attending a memorial service. They weren't tears of sadness, though. They were tears of fierce pride.I was proud that two Alberta teams played in the championship game. I was proud to be a former coach and player. I was proud of the host team and the organizing committee for creating a first class tournament. I was intensely proud of my nephew and his teammates because I have watched many of them play since they took their first uncertain steps on skates. The Knights left nothing in the dressing room and poured their hearts into the game.

More than anything, though, I was proud to know that I am a hockey player. A hockey parent. A hockey coach. A hockey fan. Hockey makes me shout at the television, jump in the air, wake up at 5:30 on a weekend and occupies a great deal of my waking hours regardless of the season. It's the greatest game around and it's a huge part of who I am.