Stuff I learned from Sports books. No, really.

So let’s start with a question. Do you think there is anything we can learn from the dreaded section of the bookshop called ‘sports books’? Now if you hate sport – and yes, I know there are some people for whom this is a badge of honour – chances are you jumped from the ‘Health’ shelves to ‘Travel’ without a sideways glance. I can, quite honestly, understand this. I am not a ‘sports nut’ (though my wife might disagree) and some sports don’t really interest me at all. For example, horse racing. I mean they just keep running around in circles with little guys sitting on top with whips. But hold that thought…

As a long time reader, I genuinely feel that there are only two categories of sports books. Bad to average, and great. But IF you find one in that latter category then – I would suggest – there is a high probability of finding an absolute gem that will stay with you for ever. And which can inform your thinking, educate you with a historical context, and (whisper it) teach you something very relevant no matter where you are coming from.

So hereunder is a personal shortlist of GREAT books that just happen to be sports based. They reflect a rule of thumb. Books ‘written’ by great sports heroes are invariably crap. Their ghost-writer does his/her best, but always fails. Also, barring a vindictive personality, the ‘celeb’ will never say anything bad about a sporting peer. E.g. ‘X was a really poor passer or the ball, selfish, petulant and had a terrible body odour problem’. This never, ever happens. What you will get is padding, the tragedy of periodic sporting injury, and endless political soft-peddling. You owe it to yourself and your limited time on this planet to avoid these books like the plague. Instead of which, reach for these gems (in no particular order) and feel your spirits soar…

The Boys in the Boat by Daniel James Brown

This is a life-affirming story about a disparate bunch of kids from Seattle who survived the great depression, became a rowing team of great renown and represented USA in Hitler’s Olympics in Berlin 1936. What do you get from this book? Well where to begin? Highpoints are the value of teamwork, amazing descriptive and engaging writing about how a top-end rowing boat is constructed, triumph over poverty, brilliant historical context, the most political Olympics ever, and how to survive a dysfunctional family. Impossible to put down. Won awards and rightly so. Moral of the story? Teamwork works. And you’ll have to read the book to find out what ‘the swing’ is.

Slaying the Badger by Richard Moore

The story of how Greg Lemond and Bernard Hinault slugged it out for the 1986 Tour de France. For the uninitiated, it’s a very long bike race, featuring killer mountains. The complex story is that the prior year Lemond ‘let’ Hinault win. The payback was to be reversed the following year by mutual consent but Hinault didn’t really see this as a watertight contract. An amazing cat and mouse game ensued. There’s a mostly happy ending (spoiler alert). So what’s the moral of the story? Get every deal in writing and hire a good lawyer. This book is so good I read it in one single night while sitting in an A&E department waiting to have my suspected fractured skull x-rayed. I was in the priority queue. But if it had moved as fast as it was supposed to I’d probably have finished the book anyway before going home at 5am. It’s that good.

Seabiscuit by Laura Hillebrand

A surprisingly engaging story about a scrawny looking racehorse and his bandy legged jockey during America’s great depression. Or maybe the horse was bandy legged and the jockey scrawny, it’s been a while since I read it. What comes out of it is how an unlikely combination can, with preparation, guts, persistence and a bit of luck become an icon to a nation that needed heroes and hope. Absolutely brilliant emotion-laden writing with an unerring sense of time and place. And remember this book is recommended by a guy that does not see the point of horses. At all.

Moneyball by Michael Lewis

In the main, Michael Lewis writes great books about high finance and the stock market. Surprisingly he also wrote ‘The Blind Side’ (American football) and this brilliant book. The theme? By careful and exhaustive analysis of baseball statistics you can build a winning team for half-nothing. So in effect it’s a love story about big data and analytics, primarily about a crazy baseball coach who has utter belief in the power of statistics. He buys ‘odd-ball players’, knits them into a winning team, and at the end refuses to go to a major club for megabucks because he believes in the guys who believed in him. I almost cried at the end of the movie (for once as good as the book, despite Brad Pitt being in it). And let me say I have NO clue how baseball works. Which shows that great books don’t have to be fully understood. The lessons? Back yourself, believe in the facts, build a team of people who believe as much as you do, and have the integrity to pass up a big pay-day to reward the people that stuck by you in tough times. Who wouldn’t cry?

Into Thin Air by Jon Krakauer

I have to admit that it’s debatable if this is actually a book about sport. Albeit mountain climbing could – I guess – be regarded as a sport of sorts. And I love books about climbing and the extreme discipline and courage that these people demonstrate, so it’s squeaking into my top five. What this gripping book shows is that on a day when eight people died on Everest in 1996, the failure of many of them to prepare adequately contributed greatly to their downfall. A number of them also did NOT know when to stop and head downwards – as the song said ‘your mind’s writing checks that your body can’t fill’. The end result was tragedy, death and flashes of heroism among the survivors, some of whom rescued many of their fellow climbers. The lessons I look from it were the need to prepare, to have a plan that can adapt, and – slightly controversially – to know when to quit gracefully. And if anyone thinks climbing mountains is glamorous, this is the book to rid you of that notion.

I think I’ll stop there, though I have enjoyed writing this so much I think there will be a part 2 before long. It’s no coincidence whatsoever that all these books are either a successful movie already or ‘there’s one at the planning stage’. And the key messages? Sport can teach us about teamwork, mastery, hard work, decision-making, focus, trust, determination, persistence and integrity. Not all books about sport can capture that. But these ones do.

So if you read this, and you feel you have a worthy contender that should be on my reading ‘stack’, feel free to tell me about it. Game on.

A book, a bike and a hill – revisited.

This blog post was originally written to introduce myself to the readership of the Tour de Conamara cycle, which is happening on Saturday, May 23^rd. In response to their request for volunteer bloggers, I somehow managed to convince the organisers that I was a plausible candidate, so the outcome was this initial story. Which I’m now recycling in the best of traditions.

So what’s it all about? Well I recently read a book called ‘Drive’ by Daniel Pink. It might seem strange at first sight to be talking about driving and cycling in the same breath, but bear with me. In reality ‘Drive’ has nothing to do with cars, but it’s all about what drives us as individuals. Also what motivates us to do what we do, and causes us to behave in a certain manner. In essence it’s a sociological study, centred on the new challenges and influences we have to content with in the 21^st century.

Pink focuses on Autonomy, Mastery and Purpose as the three keys to engagement and, based on a large number of studies that he collates and references, his proposal is that consistent scientific proof shows that we’re all driven by those three stimuli, once the basic needs of food, shelter and a reasonable income are fulfilled.

So how does this relate to cycling, and where do I fit into the picture? One of the elements is Mastery and the research suggests that athletes (even ones at my sad level) motivate themselves by trying to keep getting better. That there’s an internal dialogue going on that has you saying to yourself that you CAN go faster, harder, longer, lift more weights, etc. Obviously we benchmark ourselves against the competition, and it’s nice to win. But in reality if you (say) run faster than you thought you could, but finish second or even lower, you have still achieved a level of mastery that is its own intrinsic reward. Or so the theory goes…So how do I fit into this model?

Well I took up cycling a few years back and have found that participating in a number of organised events was a powerful motivator. In 2013 I was doing 60-70k events and in 2014 I managed to get over the 100k mark on six occasions. So I have been happy with my progress. Needless to say I train, because I know I can’t just turn up and hope to limp around a five hour course. And key to my training is ‘the hill’.

Maybe we all have a hill. Mine is the road up to the Lemass memorial, on the Military road heading out of Dublin in the direction of Glendalough. I don’t always do it, but on the Saturday mornings when it’s ‘on my agenda’ I tend to wake up with a sense of foreboding. I eat my porridge and banana with trepidation, get my gear together and set off for the foothills of Knocklyon. I’m quite consistent in that I normally get from my house to the memorial on top of the Dublin mountains in under 70-minutes. And I know every turn, every twist, every gateway and every house name on that bloody road, mainly because I’m going very slowly as I ascend. But there is one over-riding question. Which comes right back to the book. Will I stop? Will I take that breather? And the thing is, it’s all in my mind. One little voice goes ‘It’s ok to stop for a short break’. The other one says ‘You still have something in the tank – keep going’.

People who inch by me don’t really bother me. I can always rationalise why they can achieve that not-so-amazing feat. As in ‘He’s got a full carbon bike, she’s a lot younger than me, he’s obviously fitter than me, and he’s definitely got a lower gear than my lowest one, which I’ve been in for the last vertical kilometre’. It’s the voice that won’t go away and is my intermittent companion.

Well there is happy twist to this story. I have been putting in what for me count as ‘hard yards’ in the gym by lifting modest weights, swimming slow lengths, and using a stationary exercise bike. So the last time I went up ‘the hill’ I was hopeful, but not over-confident. I can’t say I breezed up the hill (I doubt I ever will) BUT at the point where the voice said ‘C’mon, have a break’ I managed to keep grinding it out and made it to the point where it all starts to level out. Elation ensued. Then after a rapid banana break (‘you deserve it’) at the Lemass memorial I went on down to the second torture zone on the route, the climb at Lough Bray en route to the Sally gap. Same story. I had 150m to go when the whispers began. But I convinced myself that I could set the bar high again, and hung in there. I was panting hard as I passed (in super slow motion) the people taking photographs at the corner and inched up around the bend to the foot of Kippure. What a feeling!

The great thing for me at that point was that although I still had 30km to go, the climb(s) were behind me. And as luck would have it, the next kilometre was a perfectly surfaced flattish road that I actually glided over. No wheels touched the ground. Well that’s how it felt anyway, believe me. The sun came out, and my elation meter went off the scale. I recalled that in the book this is called ‘flow’ – when everything comes together in a neat package. I didn’t exactly freewheel home, but it felt that way, even with a mild headwind. The only nagging thought in my head now is ‘can I do it again’ because in effect I’ve raised the bar on myself. But I’ll cross that bridge when I come to it. And I feel pretty good now with the Tour de Conamara imminent, and some other cycling events on my 2015 horizon. I CAN keep the voices at bay.

For now, at least, I own the hill.

Stay (just a little bit longer)

Relax. This short ramble through some thoughts about staying or leaving is not a homage to the song by Jackson Browne. For the uninitiated (or just plain too young) he was – indeed, happily is – a West coast songwriter whose hey-day was in the early 70s. It didn’t hurt that after writing ‘Take it Easy’ for the Eagles he never needed to work again. But that’s a different story entirely and not one I’m qualified to tell. Cue sighs of relief all round.

So back to the main idea. Why do people stay, why do they leave, and what happens in between? Here are a few personal opinions on the topic. I will also confess that a lot of my thinking on this subject is informed by a look called ‘Love ’em or Lose ’em’ which was written in 1999 by Beverly Kaye and Sharon Jordan-Lewis and contains a lot of common sense on the topic. I guess as managers we like people to stay, we feel an element of rejection when they leave, but sometimes there are utterly valid reasons why it’s inevitable. Two reasons why I moved on at different times were a) I was bored and I couldn’t see any prospect of that changing and b) I just didn’t want to work for the same company all my life. So on both occasions I made what I saw as rational decisions. Happily both worked out reasonably well but the point is that once the decision was made, I was just waiting for the ‘right job’ to come along. I was ‘looking’, as the phrase goes.

There also was – an aside – the memorable time when someone who worked for me (and who simply wanted to go and live in London) tried in vain to convince me he was resigning for about 20 minutes before I went – ‘Oh God, you’re serious’. Hard to know who felt more stupid after that episode, but at least I learned from the experience that denial never works. And Ronan, in the unlikely event that you ever read this, feel free to connect with me on LinkedIn. I know it’s been a long time but I wonder what happened to you…

 

But more to the point, why do people go, and what helps them to stay? Personally I believe that (like me) once someone decides they want to move, it’s too late. From then on, it’s just a matter of time. We need to create a climate where people are engaged, stimulated, challenged, and connected to other people. I would put ‘sharing information’ on top of the list for keeping people. If we don’t share everything that we can – and I think most people appreciate everything can’t be shared – then we’re saying ‘I don’t trust you, you don’t deserve to know, and you in fact don’t need to know what’s going on’. Sound like a recipe for getting people to dust down their CV?

 

Climate is really important (and it also feeds off the sharing of information). It costs nothing to say hello, to be visible, to remember people’s names (tip – say ‘howya’ to compensate for blank moments), or to thank people for the work they do for us. Basic courtesy and respect for the individual. It’s ok to ask people to ‘go the extra mile’ but do thank them for it. And it’s ok to poke fun at yourself too. It does not make you weaker, it adds to your ‘brand’. And it all adds up to a better climate. Climate also helps connects people to others. The driver for the connection can be trivial, but if you actually enjoy the company of the people around you it’s definitely a wrench to walk out the door. Not only do networks help to enrich the workplace, they also enable people to explore internal career path options. Which again can lead to ‘a longer perspective’ and sticking around.

 

Another key retainer is the way we work. You know what the end product should look like but you don’t need to tell people how to get there, once the end product stands up to scrutiny. Part of the interest in work is the ability to figure out ways to do it better or invent some new method to deliver better or faster. If you remove initiative completely, get ready to have a gap to fill in the team. And finally? Just be honest and be realistic with people. Don’t promise stuff you can’t deliver. It will lead to disillusionment, disaffection and a damaged reputation (yours). Try to realistically address the expectation – whatever it may be – rather than a quick ‘holding fix’ that’s just postponing the end problem. Deep down you know it will end badly. If you have to go into a holding pattern, fix a timeframe for a comeback, because typically the issue won’t go away

 

It goes without saying that there’s an industry built around this (It’s called Recruitment). But I think that sticking to a few basic principles and employing a large dose of common sense can go a long way toward hanging onto your most valued resources. Do unto others as you would that they do unto you. Not a bad rule of thumb.

Is it OK if I drive?

Once in a blue moon a whole bunch of things come together and they force you to step back and think about the bigger picture. I recently read a book by an author called Daniel Pink – it’s called ‘Drive’ – and the content is really a dissertation on why we do what we do. Not a small topic! It’s a well-crafted ‘package’ and the Kindle edition even contains a succinct summary (to tweet to explain the book’s premise). There’s even a section with ‘leading questions’ for your book club – to prompt discussions about motivation. I don’t think I have seen a book previously that was so cleverly extrapolated – if that’s the correct phrase on this occasion. So, interesting in itself.

But back to MY version of events – the non-canned content summary. What Pink very plausibly presents is the proposition that we all need ‘more’ – but first we need to have ‘enough’. And so Maslow’s hierarchy of needs is referenced in passing. A long time ago – the story goes – we just survived. This was Motivation 1.0. Then we get into the ‘if-then’ paradigm. IF I work hard in a decent job, THEN I get enough money to satisfy my needs. And this is pretty much the model most of us grew up with from the mid-20^th century onwards. And Pink labels this as Motivation 2.0. And it’s worth pointing out that the vast majority of roles still have a big element of this equation in them.

But, the theory goes, now we need ‘more’. In fairness I should point out that the book references a lot of substantive research to support this idea. Though the lurking cynic in me would argue that he’s unlikely to come up with evidence to dis-prove the theory. His view is that we have now progressed – once basic needs are fulfilled – to the point of Motivation 3.0. We need to like what we do, we need to be engaged, stimulated and to feel it’s important. This is boiled down to three words. Autonomy, Mastery and Purpose.

Autonomy means that nobody should tell me HOW to do what I do, once I deliver quality results. Mastery means I ‘get a kick’ from being really good at what I do – I’m seen as an expert of sorts. And Purpose means that there has to be a reason for what I do. If I can demonstrate all of these elements, I’m likely to be motivated. An ancillary angle is the difference between intrinsic and extrinsic motivation. The proposal is that intrinsic (i.e. the doing IS the reward) is more motivating, and leads to more ethical and socially acceptable behaviours. While extrinsic rewards (i.e. if, then) means people ‘chase the money’ and ethics falls by the wayside. Without generalising, I can see a lot of evidence in the press to validate this, notably in the Banking sector…

But what I liked about this motivational proposition was two-fold. I could relate to it based on a number of personal experiences and observations. And, not a small consideration this, I could actually remember the theorem. It’s simple, it has a few hooks to stay in the mind, and I could personally think of some real life examples. Which was great. How many books have you read where you could remember the message a whole week after you turned the last page with a contented sigh? I love reading, but quite often I struggle to remember the details a short time later. This one has a message that sticks. Bonus points in my world.

So without regurgitating the whole book, here are a few real life experiences that help me to buy into the basic concepts. Mastery, for example. There is a premise that to become really good at something you probably have to put a minimum of 10,000 hours in. Sounds crazy to begin with, but look at (say) tennis players as an example. They can return that ball unerringly to the same spot time after time after time. This simply does not happen by accident. Ever heard the phrase in a sporting context – ‘the more I practise, the luckier I get’? Of course to this they ally superb fitness, top equipment, technical ability and innate skill. But none of that matters without practise. And then more practise.

Different story. A long, long time ago I went to a major retrospective in Paris of the impressionist painter Paul Cezanne. He had – by the end of his long life – become known as ‘the painter’s painter’. He was that good. The point being however that he was not always that good. The benefit of an exhibit which spans many years is that the casual viewer (me) gets to see developing skills. And even though I saw that exhibition nearly 20 years ago, I can recall how badly he painted his mother in his early years. Frankly, if he’d been my son, I’d have thrown the painting on the fire and used it to heat the kitchen. And kicked him out of the house. Now it was – definitely – way better than anything I could ever produce, but compared to where his endless quest for mastery took him 20 years later, it was plainly deficient. But the real point is, I can remember seeing that many years ago, it stuck in my head, and it corroborates what I just read in this recent book. Even if at the time I didn’t make the connection.

Sticking with mastery, I drifted into a casual love affair with road cycling about three years ago, and am now a card-carrying member of the lycra tribe who go out on Sunday mornings to show off their prowess. We (my new brotherhood of the clingy garments) share things via this curious new internet phenomenon. And so a friend recently sent me a link to a purported ‘rules of cycling’ written by a collective called the Velominati. I will – in my defence – point out that these ‘rules’ are somewhat tongue in cheek, but nonetheless based on tried and trusted theorems. And there it is – as rule #10. ‘It never gets easier. You just go faster’. Mastery in action? Everywhere I look.

There’s one final reason why I’d buy into the core message in ‘Drive’. It highlights the rise in volunteering among people of all generations, focusing particularly on the US ‘baby boomer’ generation of the forties as they came to retirement age, and a rise in ‘pro bono’ work among college kids as they graduate in the early 21^st century. We can see this trend all round us, with people engaging in many different aspects of this theme, whether it’s coaching junior sports teams, adult literacy, going to do project work in foreign countries, or environmental angles. And I can see that this growing quest for purpose is a response to our inner motivations.

So there you have it. We all ‘need a reason’ to do what we do. And if the basics (food, shelter) are taken care of, we find it through Autonomy, Mastery and Purpose. I think I’ll remember this simple message, not least because I see the proof all round me. I’d call that a book with staying power.