I’ve been sitting here for the past several minutes trying to choose the most descriptive word I can when saying “It never ceases to Amaze? Bamboozle? Flabbergast? Befuddle? Puzzle? Baffle? me when players don't realize drills are the foundation for skills that should be applied when playing volleyball.”
They see our foundational work as the frigid river they have to swim across to get to the real volleyball. The fun stuff. They never make the connection.
Until I have worked with a player for a long time, she does not understand there is a method to the madness, a connection with everything we do. She will do the lead-up skills well while we are focused on them. But then she plays like she came late and never spent time doing the lead-up skills. The ones we just did ... until she gets tired of me hounding her about it.
It took me awhile, but I finally realized I had to create situations and drills that require using the small – seemingly unnecessary – aspects of skills that kept players from being successful. Simple things needed to be addressed like turning a hand before striking a ball, squeaking shoes in an approach and turning into the net before attacking.
Sometimes it feels like I'm living The Desert Rose Bands’ "One Step Forward, Two Steps Back."
The fundamental aspects of the throwing motion is a great example. I have worked hours with girls teaching them how to activate their cores during the throwing motion, and where to release the ball when they throw.
As soon as they have an opportunity to hit a volleyball, players will step into the ball with the wrong foot. As soon as they try to strike a ball, elbows drop down and hands immediately turn toward the ball. When they throw a ball back to me during a wash drill, they step with the wrong foot. What the ... ?
When I stop them and ask if they remember the throwing skills they just learned, they all shake their heads in the affirmative. I ask them to show me. To a girl, they can demonstrate it.
When I tell them to use that process when they hit a volleyball or throw one, they look at me like I have lost my mind. I can see them thinking ...
"What does throwing a ball have to do with hitting a volleyball over the net?"
"That’s not how I do it."
"No one has ever made me change the way I hit the ball."
"I can’t do it that way."
I’m sure they are also thinking a few things I can’t include here. Oh, do I get some looks.
Bottom line #1: They get frustrated because they don’t do it well yet. They don’t think they will be successful doing it the new way – the right way – and it’s harder.
Bottom line #2: They will continue to be frustrated unless a process is created to help them make the transition and understand why we do what we do.
First, coaches need to recognize the problems. Issues will be unique to one or two players, and different issues for different players, but they each need to be addressed. Making the individual better makes the team better. You can’t accept it and start thinking, “That’s just the way she does it.” That’s not fair to the player.
I recently worked with a freshman girl who was cut from her high school team. To make this even more interesting, the school she attends has a terrible volleyball program.
I’ll admit this kid was raw and needed help, but she could jump. You can’t teach someone to jump that high. Let me repeat, her high school‘s program was terrible. In my mind, they could not afford to let someone go with her God-given skill.
Here’s what I’m guessing happened.
At the first tryout, they did hitting lines. They saw a girl who struggled.
Then they did serving. Again, they saw a girl who struggled.
Then they did the always popular butterfly drill. Once again they saw a girl who struggled.
Then they ignored her. So she’s cut. No time to deal with her.
Not one of the coaches noticed she jumped as well as anyone in the program. The kid could help the team if someone would just help her, someone who knew how to teach her the basic skills. The girl could have played.
Of course, I’m not sure if she had what it takes to break through the frustration, but if she did, she could be a diamond. By the way, she greatly improved in the short time I worked with her. This is not to highlight how good I am, but rather how good this kid could be with just a little work. If she decides not to tryout again, that program missed one.
The skill work this kid needed was obvious. I would have thought her potential was obvious too. The help some kids need is not as obvious, but the potential might be. Being able to recognize the small needs is more difficult than seeing the obvious deficiencies – but they are just as important. For a player to reach her potential that small little change may be the key.
After recognition comes the need for creativity. We need to create a way to accomplish the needed changes. You can’t find it in the book of drills sitting on your desk.
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