I attended the Aquatic Hall of Fame Induction ceremony last week. There were six new inductees who were afforded five minutes to say a few words about…well, about anything. These are not professional speakers. They are average Joes…that can swim really fast. The speeches contained plenty of umms and sos and errs and likes and other filler words. All the speeches ran over their allotted time as most people don’t appreciate their words per minute speaking rate. But there is one thing that all the speeches had in common. One thread connected the six people on the stage and connected them to the twenty-three previous inductees in the audience. One theme that resonated throughout the evening. Everyone thanked their coaches. All their coaches.
Welcome to Swimming in the Flood; a podcast where we develop the resilient leader’s mindset by navigating difficult currents in business. My name is Trent Theroux.
Ten years ago, I was inducted into the Hall of Fame. Gosh, it’s hard to believe that it’s been a decade already. I worked hard on my induction speech and I will say that it was the first professional speech of my life. I’ve given many presentations and I’ve taught thousands of classes over the years. That’s different than giving a speech. A speech is crafted out of respect for the people you are addressing.
I’m going to break format this week and not give you my unscientific, non-peer reviewed, resilient leader theory on Hall of Fame speeches. Instead, I’m going to give you the body of the speech I delivered ten years ago.
I would like to thank Jim Quinn, my La Salle Academy swim coach for teaching me character. I had never met someone who could push my buttons the way JQ could. He would stalk the sides of the pool yelling out, “The-rux” get your elbows up. “The-rux” flip straight over the top. One time I stopped in the middle of a set and Coach Quinn yelled, “The-rux” why did you stop swimming?” I said that my forearm hurt. He quickly replied, “Well, if you didn’t lock yourself in the bathroom every night it wouldn’t hurt. Now, finish the set.” I envisioned the previous night and thought, “how did he know?”
When I first arrived at La Salle, JQ put me on swimming probation. I needed to swim a 200 free, that eight lengths, in under three minutes or I would be cut from the team. My classmate Ted Brennan was also on probation. Coach Quinn gave us two weeks before the time trial. We swam the event. Ted finished in 2:52. I was more than half a length behind him. When I finished Coach yelled out 2:56. He let me stay on the team. His compassion that day led to my identity as a swimmer, some of the greatest moments of my life and many of my longest standing friends.
In my junior year, we had a meet on a Friday night. My high school sweetheart had a mixer on the same evening. She was much prettier than my teammates. Well, I went to an all-boys school so that’s not a heavy lift. I went to the dance AND I didn’t tell coach I was going. Coach Quinn was prepared to throw me off the team for this violation and lack of respect for my teammates. He told me that if I wanted to stay on the team, I would need to explain myself and apologize in front of my teammates. It was hard to explain myself and apologize. But on that day, I understood that Coach Quinn was teaching me character.
I would like to thank John O’Neill, my Providence College swim coach, for teaching me confidence. John and I did not speak very much during my time in college. Most of our conversations were monosyllabic. John is quiet and I’m…well, I’m anything but. To give you an example of our relationship, John left PC to coach at Army for five years. I went to visit him after he returned to PC. Here is our first conversation. “John”, “Trent”, “Trent”, John”. That was it! But John understood people and communicated effectively based on what a person needed to hear.
During my freshman year at the Big East Championships, John came into our room to discuss swim strategies for the next day. He talked with every swimmer each night and he started with my roommate, Mike Epright. He talked with Mike about foot position on the block, streamlining, pacing, the finish and the like. When he was done John stood up. It was time for me. I was ready for my “Swim one for the Gipper” speech. John walked right by my bed and at the door said, “Go out fast tomorrow, Trent.” And left. I couldn’t believe it. I felt gypped.
Another swimmer relayed this story to me. During my senior year, I was waiting at the starting block to swim the 200 backstroke in a dual meet when I started yawning. My teammate said to John, “Look Trent’s falling asleep on the block.” “No.” John replied. “Trent is completely relaxed and knows what he needs to do. He’ll win this race comfortably.”
I asked John about this story a week later. John said, “Trent, you’re not a person that needs praise from me to excel. Excellence comes from inside you. Confidence in your abilities is a strength that will serve you well for years to come.”
The third coach I would like to thank is Mike Sever, my masters coach and the coach that guided me on my 14-mile backstroke swim from Point Judith to Block Island. And he is the coach that taught me about commitment. At 5:30 every morning, Sever would knock on my front door, “Let’s go.” And we would walk to the beach for our morning swim. Every day, rain or shine, waves or mist, Sever would knock on my door, “Let’s go.” Day’s that I didn’t want to go, “Let’s go.” Days when I was outside waiting, “Let’s go.” We trained that way for the entire summer.
A week before my swim, Hurricane Leslie started forming in the middle Atlantic. My team was vigilant about watching the weather and its potential impact on the swim. Just off Block Island are buoy markers that measure things like water temperature, wind speed, wave height and frequency. On a typical day, the waves may be 1’ – 2’. On Sunday, six days before the swim, they were at 3’. On Monday, they were up to 6’. On Tuesday, they were up to 7’ and on Wednesday they reported 8’. I’m not going to lie. I was getting a little nervous. 8-foot waves coming in every three seconds is very bad for boaters, much less swimmers in the water.
I called Sever with my concerns. Mike, the waves are at 8’ and show no signs of going down. We need a different plan. Perhaps, I should wear a wet suit for protection, or maybe I should swim freestyle, or maybe we need to postpone the swim. Sever heard me out. Thought about his response and replied, “Nah.” “Nah?” “Nah. Trent, what is the worst thing that could happen? You drown?” I said “Yeah. That is the worst thing that could happen.” He replied, “If you drown, you drown. We’ll serve good scotch at your memorial service.” Listen, you made a commitment on television, on the radio and to the newspapers that you were going to do this swim, there are hundreds of people coming to watch you swim, you have the entire spinal cord injured community rooting for you and supporting you. But, most importantly, you made a commitment to me. You’re getting in that water.” He was right. Sever taught me that we need to honor our commitments.
I stand before you tonight grateful to be in your presence and honored to be recognized. And to my three coaches. The one that taught me character. The one that taught me confidence and the one that taught me commitment. Thank you. Thank you each for making me a better man.
Folks, thank you for listening to this special edition of Swimming in the Flood. Resilient leaders face challenging currents, and it is tough navigating, but with one tack or another we can get there together.