Youth not going through sporting adolescence
In my rugby career, I went to three club finals before I was allowed to play in one.
I stood on the sidelines, staying warm on the off chance my coach might throw me a couple of minutes. My younger self hated it, lamenting the fact that I didn’t get a chance to influence the outcome.
When I finally played my first final years later, though, I realised how much those moments had taught me. I could see all the guiding hands that were there, helping me lift the trophy.
In my teens, I had found the sport that aligned with my physiology, temperament and natural abilities.
I became obsessed, learning all there was to know about the tactics and techniques of the game.
It took until my early 20s until I truly became a rugby player, not just someone who played rugby.
As the rugby life cycle continued, I was absorbed back into the game again, my place now in service of the
next generation. That time it took for me to get to this point was influenced heavily by those around me; by the coaches who rotated me through positions, the seniors I would run water to and my peers I would compete alongside.
To get a starting jersey, I had to win it off someone else’s back. I learned to watch, analyse and understand where I fitted in the game, and perhaps more importantly, in my team. I learned how to showcase the value I could add to increase my minutes, slowly creeping up, game by game.
I didn’t value it at the time, being the baby of the team, but realise now what a gift it was. The time I was afforded to be so wholly selfish, worrying only about my own performance. The depth that was there to help me develop strong shoulders before asking me to take on any real weight. The names of champions that I get to proudly call my mums in the game.
Seeing selections across professional sporting codes, I worry we are robbing many young athletes now of their sporting adolescence.
New competitions that have been set up mean more starting spots than the game had previously invested in. Young talent is being asked to shoot through the development pipeline at rapid pace to fill the gap, being sprayed into black jerseys just as quickly.
Of course, over time, we would expect apprenticeships to shorten as our seasons grow. Once it took a player over 10 years to play 50 firstclass games. Until 2021, the three-test Laurie O’Reilly Series was the only guaranteed test rugby for our Black Ferns. It has been complemented by the Pacific Four Series and WXV.
The sport IQ of younger athletes is also rising, as earlier starting points become more normalised. While less time is needed to learn rugby, it is still needed to learn themselves.
Youth are attractive for sports, though. They are seen as a vessel of limitless potential. They represent a blank slate rather than the messy history of your older playing group.
It’s easier to believe that it’s a good start, the first time that phrase is uttered. They don’t yet know the questions their experience will ask.
Their rugby mums are now younger, too. Just on the cusp of their own transition from rugby to self, they haven’t yet reached that final stage of selfless seniority.
We are yet to learn how to hold space in our system for each part of the rugby life cycle; to allow talent to rise up and then raise up the next in line.
When we fail to retain, we put strain on this emerging talent group, asking them to learn publicly what we once learned on the sidelines.