How Great Coaches Change Lives
My parents enrolled me in skiing when I was 4 years old and after just one season registered me for the racing program. As a young kid, I would often find myself daydreaming of my races, hoping, and at times praying, that this weekend would be the weekend I would win. Year after year I was always the smallest kid on the team which came with a certain set of disadvantages; however, I was an extremely determined child and most definitely a great student. I would listen to the coaches and practice as hard as I possibly could but still somehow, I could never seem to find my rhythm.
After years of mediocre finishes, ski racing slowly started becoming a chore. I even began resenting it. I would hear stories of all of the fun things my school friends did together on the weekends, meanwhile I was driving north in the wee hours of the morning, spending 4 hours a day outside in the bitter cold, doing something I sucked at. I begged my parents to let me quit but they refused, until the year I turned 13 that is. They had concluded that I was now mature enough to make this decision for myself and so if at the end of this season, I still no longer wanted to ski race, I could quit.
Day one of training began, and I was in a new age bracket that spanned from 13–18 years old. This group was then divided into three teams; the Gold team was made up of the fastest skiers and the Bronze team the slowest. I of course was on the Bronze team. The club also got a new coach from Montreal, Quebec that year, who although was overqualified to coach the Bronze team, was stuck with us anyway. Greg Fréchette, an extremely enthusiastic person, started the day taking us straight over to the Black Diamond runs. He said we needed to take advantage of the “powder” that had dumped on our hills the night before. “Great”, I thought sarcastically. “This guy sucks, this sport sucks and I can’t wait to quit.”
My first run of the season and I caught my tips in the powder and performed the most epic “yard sale”. This is ski jargon for when both of your skis pop off, your poles are buried somewhere beneath the powder and melting snow fills every ounce of your ski suit, helmet, boots and goggles which are now located at your chin. To add insult to injury, my new coach confidently comes sliding up to my rescue with a huge smile on his face; as he helped me piece my life back together I remember thinking again “this guy sucks, this sport sucks and I can’t wait to quit.”
Greg and I went up the lift together and while he continued to pick out snow from my jacket, he asked me questions about myself. We talked about my family, about how I am as a student in school and my racing history. He listened intently. Then just as we caught up with the rest of the team he gave me one tip to try for this next run. Down the hill I went again, but this time I made it without falling. We went up the lift together again and again he provided me with feedback. This would carry on for the rest of the day.
Up until this point, most of my experience training with teams had been that the coach would focus the majority of their efforts on the stars of the team; it makes sense to support and foster the growth of the athletes who show the most promise. But here was Greg, giving his time to me, the terrible racer who wanted to quit. Perhaps he could tell that I was a competitive person at heart, maybe he could see a willingness to learn or perhaps he just felt badly for me, but regardless of the reason, he took me under his wing.
Raggidy-Ann became my nickname that year because I fell so often in training, but despite that, Greg continued to provide me with feedback. I started to regain my focus and began training harder. I used to be the last kid out on the hill and the first one in the club house at day’s end, but now suddenly, I was the kid who was the first out on the hill in the morning for lessons and the last one in at the end of the day. I even started cutting my lunches short so that I could help set the training course, which meant I could train in gates for longer in the afternoons. Every weekend my race results got a little better.
At the end of the season the club has their awards banquet. One of the most highly esteemed awards is the John Saulhammel Award which goes to the ski racer who exhibits the most dedication, spirit and sportsmanship. My brother had won this award during our second year of racing and it sat proudly on our family room bookshelf for the last decade. I whispered a joke over to Greg while they were announcing it and said “my family has always loved my brother more for winning this award”. He smiled his usual smile. Then we sat quietly waiting for the name to be called. “This year’s recipient goes to Laura Touchie”. I looked at Greg; he laughed, then I laughed and shook my head at him. All because he decided to spend a bit of extra time with me, I had gone from a racer who was ready to quit to a racer who deserved this award. In 10 weeks, he had done more for me in this sport then the last 7 years combined. It was a beautiful moment.
Not surprisingly, I decided not to quit ski racing that summer. In fact, I was very much so looking forward to the next season. At the start of each season, racers compete in Time Trials, which determines which team the racer would be placed on. That year I qualified for the Silver team and luckily Greg had been promoted to coaching that team as well, and after another full season of Greg’s coaching, I had solidified myself as one of the top 3 female skiers on the team.
Teams were usually made up of 7 girls and 7 boys and each year, as the 18 year olds leave, new spots open up on the Gold team. During that summer, the coach of the Gold team had retired which meant that Greg and I should both move up together. What I didn’t account for this summer, however, was that the number of female racers in the league would be half of the prior year. This posed a massive problem of course. With only 9 female racers left in the program and 3 teams, the girls would be split evenly amongst each team. With two of the spots on the Gold team accounted for by the top 2 girls in the club, there was only 1 spot remaining which would be determined by the Time Trials race.
I remember charging into the club house the morning after Time Trials to check out the bulletin board where the teams were posted. There my name was. On the Silver team, and without my coach. I was shook, I was angry, I was extremely sad, and a major part of me felt like quitting. In this moment, my hard work all seemed for naught. I wouldn’t quit though; instead, I decided that I would train my ass off and make damn well certain that I would be on that Gold team in a year’s time. Throughout the season, when he could, Greg would continue to go up the lift with me and provide me with feedback and after what seemed like an incredibly long ski season and an even longer summer, I would earn my spot on the Gold team, back with my coach.
That year I would continue to train hard and my dream as a kid finally came true; I actually won one of my races. That season, I also qualified for the All Stars team where I would compete amongst the best in the league for Southern Ontario and finished 9th. This little 5 foot nothing, 100 pound, Raggidy-Anne, was having her breakthrough year!
The following year and my final year as a ski racer, I would go on to win 75% of all of my races and place 3rd at the All Stars Race; at the end of that race, Greg came up to me with his big grain and said “I knew you could do it.” He always believed in me after all. Our team would also go on to win the league that year, a goal extremely important to Greg. He helped me win and I helped him win; it was a great end to a great era and one that would impact my life moving forward.
I went on to ski coach myself. In fact, during my 2nd of 7 years coaching, I grew fond of one particular racer on my team, Ryan. He was half the size of the other kids and definitely not the fastest, but he was keen and ready to adapt to whatever feedback he was given. That year, I would pay it forward and award him with the John Saulhammel trophy in hope that I too could impact someone as much as Greg had impacted me.
What I had truly taken from this experience was that natural ability, although useful, can never be a replacement for hard work and dedication, a lesson that has been useful throughout my schooling and career. So in the end, I want to say thank you to my coach Greg. Thank you for your passion for the sport, thank you for your countless hours of feedback, and most importantly, thank you for never having given up on me.
