The Endless Industry of Talent Development in Youth Sport
The professionalisation of sport is a relatively recent phenomenon. Although some sports have paid players for a long time, that was exactly what they did. They paid them to play. Preparation to perform was either absent or perfunctory. Sports science hadn’t been invented.
The drive for high performance is ultimately driven by the pecuniary benefits of success for both teams and individuals. Vast infusions of money from television, national lottery and other sources have rewarded the best teams and players disproportionately. Talent has been commoditised. And its value therefore increased.
Heavily resourced clubs and programmes depend on a constant supply of new talent. Competition to identify, attract and develop this is a recently emerged industry, especially in sports such as Rugby, Netball and Hockey. The net is cast wide. Games which previously condemned the practices of scouts in Soccer, now emulate them – but in an ever more technical and demanding way.
“Development” programmes proliferate. The word “academy” – defined by the dictionary as “a place of study” has been hijacked by the sports industry. It is the must-have accessory of every school and club. Everyone wants one, though no one is quite sure what it means. “Just” playing – once the purpose of sport – has given way to the cult of preparation, accompanied by the values of the world of work.
Children who love sport, and show early prowess, are eagerly sought. Once identified, they are often taken from the environment in which they came to prominence, and encouraged to change the place of sport in their life. Instead of playing with friends for fun, they must move clubs and attend endless sessions of development and identification. It’s a demanding conveyor belt. Travelling to sessions comes to dominate life. Performance is constantly analysed and measured, driven by the need to stay in the programme. Salutory tales abound of the absent players, rejected from the chosen few for failing to make the grade. Their ghosts still haunt the changing rooms, as a lesson to the less committed.
The aim to improve, and the ambition of parents to give their children the best chances, is, of course, laudable. For a tiny fraction of those players who last the long and arduous course, there is a pot of gold at the end of the rainbow. But these are the exceptions that prove the rule.
Unintended consequences abound. The fun and spontaneity which drew children to sport in the first place can easily be lost in the teenage years. The constant round of training sessions, pressured games and the omnipresence of selectors and judges take their toll. Parents can come to sacrifice the thrill of watching their children play, instead becoming unduly invested in their performance, and maintaining a shouted, joyless commentary of technical instructions. The shadowy touchline figure with the clipboard, armed with the power to select and reject, is to be viewed with suspicion. The purpose of the whole exercise it to achieve the right entries on the clipboard, and maintain entitlement to the tracksuits and other badges of honour.
Those not invited into the hallowed programmes often drift away from the sport, having been given the incontrovertible message that only the elite are valued. If they do maintain an involvement, it is shrouded in perjorative language: they play “just for fun”, in “recreational” or “social” games. But they can play with their friends, in an unpressured environment, and a range of sports - where winning and losing don’t have great significance, and the coaches and referees can be appreciated as volunteers.
Talent development is great for some kids. But it comes at a price. It is not the sole purpose of children’s games. Sport can be a “place of study” for all kids, regardless of ability. So, perhaps everyone is in an “academy”.