A long time ago in a changing room before a hockey international match was about to take place, players gathered round. The coach, who had Olympic Games experience and knew something about high performance, was road testing some motivational tools.
He began by posing a question. “Are you committed,” he asked the first player. “Yes,” he snapped back. He gave the second player a knuckle punch on the shoulder and asked again are you committed. “Yes,” the player shouted.
The coach dug his fore finger into the chest of the third player and screamed “Are you fu*king committed.”
“Yes,” the player yelled back at him.
He went around the entire team punching and probing and pointing and glaring and the replies came back “Yes.” “Absolutely.” “Yeah, go for it.” “I am.” “Yes, let’s do it.”
He came to the last guy, a player from Ulster and pointed at his nose. Are you committed the coach demanded. “Yeah . . .” he said. “I think so.”
Jeez, if that changing room didn’t collapse into a steaming heap. It started out as an impulse to generate some team cohesion and turned into a coach delivering a stand-up comedy script with a punch line that nobody could have made up.
“I fu*king think so,” the coach shot back at him. “That’s your answer. I f*cking think so.”
I meant “Yes , Yes Yes,” he yelled back. When the players picked themselves off the floor tiles, one thing was certain, the mood had changed.
Working the top six inches wasn’t the big thing then it is now. Looking back those players were the driverless car they have been road testing in California, everything programmed and super prepared but if something small went awry it could easily take out the delivery bike or a soccer mom’s SUV pulling out of Walmart.
In the zero sum game of psychology, when it goes slightly wrong, it can go terribly and totally wrong. What can happen then is Liverpool score seven goals against Manchester United.
Brooks Koepka was only ever after the win in golf. Before he joined the LIV Tour, the man Netflix showed living in a house that looks like a spaceship in a place called Jupiter said that for him “winning is an addiction”.
But Koepka just can’t win anymore. His four Major successes have become less an achievement to be proud of than a stark reminder of the current emptiness of his game and possibly life too.
Koepka can’t learn to love his job if he cannot be the best in the world at it, while injury and form and confidence has shattered his alpha dog status. There is nothing physically wrong with Koepka. It is the malfunctioning of the top few inches.
This week in rugby, while the legs have been furiously working beneath the surface on the core skills and bespoke drills with multiple fittings for the game against Scotland, the important work is going on internally.
The fractions of seconds Josh van der Flier will need to get his hand on a ball, the decision to stay or go, the millimetres that determines whether Johnny Sexton puts a decent swing on his place kicking, the pain threshold James Ryan is prepared to take on and the number of carries he will expect his body to endure.
Ronan Kelleher’s first throw to the lineout. Precision. Andrew Porter’s first scrum. More precision. Garry Ringrose’s first shooting tackle on Huw Jones and what a miss would incur.
What Paul O’Connell can impart to the Irish pack and what stiffening counsel Andy Farrell can install as a former Rugby League God.
How to manage the expectation of being heavy favourite without crashing as Koepka has isn’t all that easy. This Irish team has less to gain than Scotland by winning as that outcome would meet existing expectations.
In stark contrast, Ireland have something other than a Grand Slam to lose if they are outperformed by the underdog, while Scotland have less to lose but much to gain if they can perform better and win.
The psychologists will tell us that as favourite the goal of winning for Ireland is seen as a minimum standard that must be met and, as such, winning becomes an obligation.
All week the Irish players that have spoken, Van der Flier, Ryan, Kelleher, Johnny Sexton and Peter O’Mahony have shared a similar language with key words and phrases. Scotland’s “dangerous counterattack”, Scotland’s “improving game”, Scotland “backing themselves to deliver” and Ireland “putting in a performance”.
The interviews are almost performative, the players guarded against misplaced words or sentiments and phrases that could disempower the team or give Scotland a positive psychological entry point. Holding blandish observations on how Scotland play and offering respectful views of the players is about maintaining a grip on control, Piggy holding the conch in Lord of the Flies.
As soon as they stepped into camp, they have been competing, especially those 15 who know they will be starting in Murrayfield and facing down the crowd.
As is often the case, the match could be won or lost before either team sings their anthem. But one thing is certain. If Andy Farrell lines them up underneath the famous stadium and asks each player if they are they committed, the chances are not one of them will say “I think so”.
