FORCE OF NURTURE
Illness wrecked Stephen Maguire’s sports career but Scotland’s athletics mentor is using that hurt to mould stars of tomorrow
HIS business is strength. His partner is weakness. Stephen Maguire has embraced the task of making Scottish athletes more able, more powerful, more successful. He brings a personal acknowledgement of frailty to that duty.
Maguire is a formidable coach but he was once a fragile athlete. ‘I remember pulling my hamstring once by sneezing,’ he says. A smile briefly crosses his face. The remembrance of hard times remains, however.
Maguire, at 55, is the director of performance and coaching at Scottish Athletics, a personality who helped Team GB win a slew of relay medals, including a gold in the men’s 4x100m, at the World Championships last year. This achievement led to Maguire and two Team GB colleagues sharing the coach of the year award at the 2017 BBC Sports Personality of the Year awards.
He is also the one-time burgeoning jumper who sat immobilised all day in his home in Strabane, Northern Ireland, suffering from arthritis and beset by Type 1 diabetes. ‘It would take me three hours to get out of bed,’ he says. There has been improvement and both conditions are now managed, but there was no miracle cure.
There was, however, a legacy from a desperate time. ‘I was angry and frustrated. I had to figure myself out. I invested time in it,’ he says. This hard labour has informed his coaching. It has given him an understanding of and compassion for the weakness of others. It has left him with a patience that is not normally the preserve of the thrusting coach.
‘You have to accept that this is you now,’ he says of that man in his late twenties who had gone from the sand pit to the armchair. ‘You are not the person you were when you wanted to be an Olympic champion.
‘Your body is not going to let you do that. That was hard for me to accept. I hated having to lie down too. But I had to.’
He was, after all, the sort of athlete who devoted himself to training. ‘I went down to the local athletic club when I was 14. I always remember that I was beaten on the first night by a girl in the sprints,’ he says.
He came back for more and more. ‘I got injured very early. I tried to do too much. We all trained far too hard. It was lunatic. The body broke down. I didn’t finish juniors before I had a big injury. I believe it was all due to the underlying medical stuff, particularly the auto-immune Type 1 diabetes,’ he says.
‘I got to a certain level of fitness but the body was breaking down quicker and quicker. I remember pulling my hamstring one time by sneezing. I was bonkers, certifiably nuts. I just wanted to train with no rhyme or reason. It was all work ethic with a semblance of direction but no real nous about rest.’
When the arthritis became debilitating in his late 20s, Maguire showed the intellectual curiosity that has marked his coaching.
‘The lunatic that I am, I wanted to get involved in what was wrong with me. I ended up on the board of Arthritis Care. I put on weight, I wasn’t mobile. I was interested in why I was ill. I was interested in
the psychology of coping with illness and what came with it.
‘I did a masters in coaching and personal development through a disability charity. I was mentoring people with disabilities, development and goal setting. I learned a lot.’
He began to coach in business while also taking on athletes. ‘I came to a realisation that I was never going to work again for money,’ he says.
‘I was never going to be driven by money. It had to be something that I wanted to do. And that was coaching and development.’
It was illness, ironically, that gave him his chance at national level in Northern Ireland when he stood in for the athletics director when he went on sick leave. He has risen quickly but not effortlessly.
Maguire has put body and soul into his vocation. He reads voraciously and he is driven by a simple philosophy. ‘Coach what is in front of you,’ he says. ‘There is no such thing as perfect technique. There are going to be peaks and troughs. The coach’s strength is the ability to ride these and understand the individual rather than stick to any textbook.’
He was director of coaching at Scottish Athletics between 2012 and 2014 so what lured him back?
‘Look at Laura Muir,’ he says. ‘She was only a child when I left but now she is No1 in the world. One of the big reasons I have come back is the talent pool in Scotland.
‘I can see the potential here. I am only just in the job and I see the sport has grown and it is full of possibilities. There is tremendous talent in the youngsters.’
He is reluctant to name individuals but he is known to admire Jemma Reekie, a promising 1500m hope. There is a roster, too, of already successful individuals such as Callum Hawkins, Eilish McColgan, Eilidh Doyle, Lynsey Sharp, Chris O’Hare, Josh Kerr, Jake Wightman and others.
‘There is a good culture here. It is all about asking: how can we do things better?’ he says. ‘The expectation is high but that is right. We should not shirk away from that.’
He knows the hard work that is involved in winning medals at the highest level. ‘We are in a huggy society where everyone is considered a winner and there are plaudits all round.
‘But it is tough. Just look at what goes on in Jamaica. Poor facilities, early starts to beat the heat of the day. You have to put yourself through that.
‘Laura [Muir] has to put herself on the line every day of the week. Not too many people in athletics can retire with money in the manner of, say, footballers. You are going to have a life after track and field.’
Is it his priority, then, to coach the person rather than just than aspiring athlete?
‘Absolutely,’ he says. ‘We have to understand the environment an athlete is in. Some may transition quickly, some may take time. Some may have problems in school or in relationships or even at home. You have to understand the person.’
He has, of course, had to understand himself. ‘Those times shaped me,’ he says of days in the chair in Strabane where sleepless nights were followed by days of trial. His illnesses do not impact on his life as a coach as they are managed by medication but they influence heavily how he works.
‘It definitely formed my life and how I look at it. I look at things in the present. I try not to look too far forward. I like to be nice and present and patient,’ he says.
He is not glib about the bad times. His past suffering is almost palpable, though he remains quietly upbeat and gently humorous. But the dedicated, driven coach is never far away.
‘I would rather not have gone through that stuff but it did leave me with some strong lessons. I believe life is about patience. Life isn’t set out in a spreadsheet.
‘It isn’t about a perfect technique or a perfect person.
‘I would still have a resentment about not fulfilling my potential. I had great times representing my country and winning titles but I would have loved to have done more. It was over too soon.’
But has that sense of loss left him, particularly as his coaching career has grown in scope and achievement?
‘No, no,’ he says. ‘I still feel that hurt but I have sort of replaced it by trying to help others. I love to see someone achieve their potential, at any level.’
The coach who lives in the present still works for the future.
Look at Laura Muir ... she was only a child when I left but now she is No 1 in the world