Louis
08-15-2008, 01:51 PM
From the NYT
August 15, 2008
In the Game Within a Game, Subtlety Mixes With Brawn
By GREG BISHOP
BEIJING —To the uninitiated, weight lifting appears strenuous and simple, devoid of any strategy beyond bend, lift, grunt, grimace.
But inside a room behind the stage, coaches huddle in small groups, speak in hushed tones and position lifters like giant pieces on a chessboard.
Dozens of factors play into their decisions, and those factors change constantly based on opposing coaches’ responses or attacks. Rules, timing and good fortune are critical. Mistakes here cost athletes four years of work.
“It’s sort of like playing chicken,” said Cheryl Haworth, a bronze medalist for the United States at the 2000 Games. “Sometimes, it comes down to who can fake the other person out sooner. Or who buckles under pressure.
“Or who bluffs, and who can call it.”
The basic rules work like this: lifters get three attempts in each of the two categories — the snatch and the clean-and-jerk — and their best lifts in each category are combined for their competition total.
The athlete who pledges to lift the lowest weight goes first, and all attempts at that weight are made before moving on.
This can turn weight-lifting competitions that ultimately come down to who can lift the most weight into contests that more closely resemble the schoolyard refrain of I triple-double-dog dare you.
Athletes become lobbyists. Coaches get conservative, or greedy.
Strategy sessions can turn into screaming matches, filling the back room with foul language in multiple native tongues.
“There are certainly situations where coaches send athletes out for the wrong weight,” said Frank Eksten, USA Weightlifting’s team leader. “Could cost them money, could cost them a medal, could cost them a place on the team.”
Dennis Snethen, USA Weightlifting’s executive director, does some of his best work in that room behind the stage, where coaches engage in strategy no one ever sees and only they discuss.
“It’s really a challenge for the coaches,” Snethen said. “To be honest, I’m really, really addicted to it.”
Haworth compares the coaches’ endless debates to white noise, their demeanor to a “bunch of busy little worker bees.”
But she admitted that if the coaches are too calm, she worries why that is; if they are too frantic, she begins to lose it, too.
“The key is for everyone to, um, weigh their options,” said Melanie Roach, who finished sixth in the 53-kilogram (117-pound) weight class. “No pun intended.”
Someone who bluffs by listing an insanely heavy first attempt may not lift anything until all the other athletes have finished their three attempts below it. Of course, then that athlete will have to lift exactly what he or she listed.
That counts as one example where strategy comes into play. Another part of the strategy involves a rule that allows athletes to make two changes during the competition.
The lifters can use strategy for intimidation, or to set personal records or national records — which can be worth money — or to maximize their placing.
For instance, Roach knew by the clean-and-jerk event that she would not medal here. Her coaches decided to go for the American record in her weight class. Her first attempt was at 105 kilograms (231.5 pounds). They planned her second try for 110 (242.5 pounds), but because a competitor lifted 108 (238.1 pounds), they had her lift the same amount to ensure that she would finish sixth. On her third lift, she hoisted 110 kilograms over her head to safely set the record.
“You need to maximize position,” Snethen said. “I never give up anything, not even the weight of one potato chip.”
Coaches generally set a basic plan a day or two before competition, then adjust it. At that point, Roach leaves all decisions to them.
She used to pay attention to the chess game, at least until the world championships in 1998.
Earlier that year, Roach had set a world standard with a clean-and-jerk of 117.5 kilograms (259 pounds). She opened at the worlds with 107.5 (237 pounds), a high number for an opener, but well below what she did before.
She missed once. She got nervous. She missed twice. She got more nervous, sitting in the back room, thinking, “I’m going to bomb out.”
Then she missed the third.
“It happens every competition,” Roach said. “Someone makes a mistake, either too high, or too low.”
Different countries vary their approach, and those approaches can reflect a country’s traditions. The Americans allow their athletes more input. The Russians are at the mercy of their coaches.
After all the positioning, it still comes down to power. The strategy on the stage becomes simple again: bend, lift, grunt, grimace.
“You can talk all about the games, all about the strategy,” Eksten said. “But in the end, whoever lifts the most weight wins.”
Checkmate.
August 15, 2008
In the Game Within a Game, Subtlety Mixes With Brawn
By GREG BISHOP
BEIJING —To the uninitiated, weight lifting appears strenuous and simple, devoid of any strategy beyond bend, lift, grunt, grimace.
But inside a room behind the stage, coaches huddle in small groups, speak in hushed tones and position lifters like giant pieces on a chessboard.
Dozens of factors play into their decisions, and those factors change constantly based on opposing coaches’ responses or attacks. Rules, timing and good fortune are critical. Mistakes here cost athletes four years of work.
“It’s sort of like playing chicken,” said Cheryl Haworth, a bronze medalist for the United States at the 2000 Games. “Sometimes, it comes down to who can fake the other person out sooner. Or who buckles under pressure.
“Or who bluffs, and who can call it.”
The basic rules work like this: lifters get three attempts in each of the two categories — the snatch and the clean-and-jerk — and their best lifts in each category are combined for their competition total.
The athlete who pledges to lift the lowest weight goes first, and all attempts at that weight are made before moving on.
This can turn weight-lifting competitions that ultimately come down to who can lift the most weight into contests that more closely resemble the schoolyard refrain of I triple-double-dog dare you.
Athletes become lobbyists. Coaches get conservative, or greedy.
Strategy sessions can turn into screaming matches, filling the back room with foul language in multiple native tongues.
“There are certainly situations where coaches send athletes out for the wrong weight,” said Frank Eksten, USA Weightlifting’s team leader. “Could cost them money, could cost them a medal, could cost them a place on the team.”
Dennis Snethen, USA Weightlifting’s executive director, does some of his best work in that room behind the stage, where coaches engage in strategy no one ever sees and only they discuss.
“It’s really a challenge for the coaches,” Snethen said. “To be honest, I’m really, really addicted to it.”
Haworth compares the coaches’ endless debates to white noise, their demeanor to a “bunch of busy little worker bees.”
But she admitted that if the coaches are too calm, she worries why that is; if they are too frantic, she begins to lose it, too.
“The key is for everyone to, um, weigh their options,” said Melanie Roach, who finished sixth in the 53-kilogram (117-pound) weight class. “No pun intended.”
Someone who bluffs by listing an insanely heavy first attempt may not lift anything until all the other athletes have finished their three attempts below it. Of course, then that athlete will have to lift exactly what he or she listed.
That counts as one example where strategy comes into play. Another part of the strategy involves a rule that allows athletes to make two changes during the competition.
The lifters can use strategy for intimidation, or to set personal records or national records — which can be worth money — or to maximize their placing.
For instance, Roach knew by the clean-and-jerk event that she would not medal here. Her coaches decided to go for the American record in her weight class. Her first attempt was at 105 kilograms (231.5 pounds). They planned her second try for 110 (242.5 pounds), but because a competitor lifted 108 (238.1 pounds), they had her lift the same amount to ensure that she would finish sixth. On her third lift, she hoisted 110 kilograms over her head to safely set the record.
“You need to maximize position,” Snethen said. “I never give up anything, not even the weight of one potato chip.”
Coaches generally set a basic plan a day or two before competition, then adjust it. At that point, Roach leaves all decisions to them.
She used to pay attention to the chess game, at least until the world championships in 1998.
Earlier that year, Roach had set a world standard with a clean-and-jerk of 117.5 kilograms (259 pounds). She opened at the worlds with 107.5 (237 pounds), a high number for an opener, but well below what she did before.
She missed once. She got nervous. She missed twice. She got more nervous, sitting in the back room, thinking, “I’m going to bomb out.”
Then she missed the third.
“It happens every competition,” Roach said. “Someone makes a mistake, either too high, or too low.”
Different countries vary their approach, and those approaches can reflect a country’s traditions. The Americans allow their athletes more input. The Russians are at the mercy of their coaches.
After all the positioning, it still comes down to power. The strategy on the stage becomes simple again: bend, lift, grunt, grimace.
“You can talk all about the games, all about the strategy,” Eksten said. “But in the end, whoever lifts the most weight wins.”
Checkmate.