With most indoor club and representative commitments out the way (as well as other winter sports), school coaches can start going full bore towards the biggest event in the volleyball calendar – that holiest of grails – the AVSC.
I’m no exception. I booked my leave for that week in december months ago, and it’s back to waking up at 6:30am every wed for the 1-hour commute to willunga high trainings. I think my unhealthy obsession with this comes from never having the chance to participate as a player. So much so that I’ve now gone more times as a coach than i could have as a player. It’s number 7 this time. And after all the disappointing years and vowing that i’d opt for a real holiday instead next time round, i just can’t seem to quit. I think I’m one of those “tragics” that I’ve heard Eldo and Devo talk about.
With all my failed attempts to a) win a medal and/or b) get a team into honours, i feel like artist Bill Leak in his quest to win the Archibald Prize. Despite some inspired portraits – Sir Donald Bradman, Labor luminary Graham Richardson, art critic Robert Hughes (an incredible portrait og Highes on crutches after his car accident!), Tex Perkins & Gough Whitlam – Leek has never won the top prize in 13 attempts.
Leak is more well known as a newspaper cartoonist – it’s his bread and butter and he’s one of the best. But this success just hasn’t followed on with his pursuit for the Archibald.
Coaching in a league competition is like being a newspaper cartoonist. You have a regular deadline and timetable. The feedback is immediate, so you you know if you’re on the right track or not. You can correct things as you go along. But tournaments are a whole other kettle of fish. Like the archibalds, you just have to take a punt, and then pour hours of blood, sweat and toil into it. You might have a hint of what your local rivals are working on, but you have absolutely no definitive idea what most of the other coaches are painting.
Within the first few hours of the Monday, you’ll see most of the other teams in your division, and know if you’ve gotten it right or wrong. For me it’s often the latter. It’s that sinking feeling that I painted like shit, or that my portrait is incredibly inspired but just won’t get over the line. I heard Leek being intreviewed on radio once describing that uncomfortable feeling of aniticipation he gets each year when he drops his Archibald entry off at the Art Gallery of NSW. I could really relate to that.
To be fair though, Leek’s portraits are brilliant. Some win the people’s choice award or the “packing room prize” judged by the staff. Some are simply the victims of a competition that is historically mired in controversy. In my case, I’m just a lousy tournament coach who can’t quit.
