Sociology of Sport Journal, 2006, 23, 142-161
© 2006 Human Kinetics, Inc.
Power, Discourse, and Symbolic Violence
in Professional Youth Soccer:
The Case of Albion Football Club
Christopher Cushion
Brunel University
Robyn L. Jones
University of Wales Institute, Cardiff
A sociological analysis was conducted into the collective nature of coaching as
manifest in the triangular interaction between coach, athlete, and context within
English professional youth soccer. The work of Pierre Bourdieu is predominantly
used to interpret data collected ethnographically over the course of a 10-month
season. Findings show how an authoritarian discourse is established and main-
tained, how it is structured by and subsequently structures the coaching context,
and how accompanying behaviors are misrecognized as legitimate by both coaches
and players. We conclude by reflecting on the limits of such work and its implica-
tions for future coaching education.
Nous faisons une analyse sociologique de la nature collective du coaching, telle
quʼelle se manifeste dans lʼinteraction entre lʼentraîneur, lʼathlète et le contexte, au
sein du soccer professionnel anglais. Les travaux de Pierre Bourdieu sont utilisés
pour interpréter les données ethnographiques colligées lors dʼune saison de 10
mois. À partir de nos résultats, nous démontrons comment un discours autoritaire
est établi et maintenu, comment il est structuré par le contexte dʼentraînement et
comment ce dernier est subséquemment structuré par ce discours, et enfin comment
les comportements sont faussement reconnus comme légitimes par les entraîneurs
et les joueurs. Nous concluons en apportant des réflexions sur les limites de notre
étude et sur ses implications pour lʼéducation des entraîneurs.
Recent research has suggested that social interaction lies at the heart of the
coaching process (Jones, Armour, & Potrac, 2004). Such dealings are not limited
to isolated conversations between coach and athlete (Jowett & Cockerill, 2002;
Mageau & Vallerand, 2003) but involve a set of connections between them and many
others within a wider web of complex cultural relations. Coaching is thus viewed as
a social process, comprising a series of negotiated outcomes between structurally
C. Cushion is with the School of Sport and Education at Brunel University, Uxbridge, UB8 3PH,
UK. R.L. Jones is with the Cardiff School of Sport at the University of Wales Institute, Cardiff C23
6XD UK.
142
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The Case of Albion 143
influenced agents within an ever-changing environment (Cushion, Armour, &
Jones, 2003; Poczwardowski, Barott, & Henschen, 2002; Saury & Durand, 1998).
In this respect, the activity is considered the result of dynamic interaction between
coaches, athletes, and the socio-cultural context (Côté, Salmela, & Russell, 1995;
Côté, Salmela, Trudel, Baria, & Russell, 1995; Cushion, 2004; Cushion, Armour,
& Jones, 2006; Langley, 1997; Saury & Durand, 1998; Smith & Smoll, 1993).
Despite increasing recognition of the collective nature of coaching and its
vulnerability to many and varied related pressures (Cross, 1995a, 1995b; Lyle,
2002), a sociological analysis of it remains underdeveloped (Jones, 2000; Jones,
Armour, & Potrac, 2002; Schempp, 1998). Gaps remain in our understanding of the
social dynamics that construct and affect the relationships between coach, player,
and club (Cushion, Armour, & Jones, 2006; Potrac & Jones, 1999; Trudel, Côté,
& Donohue, 1993). This neglect is confusing, particularly when one considers
the time spent by both athletes and coaches in each otherʼs company during daily
practice and competition, particularly at the professional level (Cushion & Jones,
2001; Lyle, 2002).
The purpose of this paper is to address this inattention by investigating the com-
plex web of interactions that exists within the professional youth soccer coaching
context. In particular, the paper examines the coach–athlete relationship in terms of
power, structure, and accompanying discourse within the existing social milieu. The
interactions that take place are viewed as influenced by the setting and inextricably
tied to “issues of power and power difference” (Snyder & Kiviniemi, 2001, p. 133).
The aim thus extends to an examination the social bonds that tie coach to athlete,
athlete to athlete, both coach and athlete to contextual practice, and the ways they
are all interconnected (Jones, 2000; Jones, Armour, & Potrac, 2002).
In this respect, the paper builds on the earlier work of Jones and colleagues
(2004), who used the concepts of role (Callero, 1994), presentation of self (Goff-
man, 1959), and power (French & Raven, 1959) to better understand coaching as
a complex social encounter. Since a detailed investigation of the interaction of
individuals (agents) precedes the understanding of social practices (Kim, 2004), this
study is based on in-situ coaching practice. This produces a contextually informed
picture of coaching as a complex social encounter, with the resultant knowledge
useful in improving practice (Côté & Salmela, 1996; Lyle, 1999). Here, we agree
with Bourdieuʼs assertion that a detailed investigation of agentsʼ interaction must
precede the understanding of social practice (Kim, 2004). However, rather than
being satisfied with descriptive self-understandings of such interactions, the paper
critically examines current practice so that “agents can liberate themselves from
the grip of legitimated social classification” (2004, p. 363).
We begin with an outline of the theoretical framework in which we situate
this study, followed by a description of the studyʼs context and method of data
collection. The subsequent section contains a presentation and analysis of the data.
We conclude with a summary of the main points and make recommendations for
further research.
Theoretical Framework
The theoretical framework used in this respect principally emanates from the
work of Pierre Bourdieu (1990b). A field is a social arena in which individuals
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144 Cushion and Jones
struggle and maneuver within a structured system of social positions that defines
their situation (Jarvie & Maguire, 1994; Jenkins, 1992). In these terms, Albion
Football Club (a pseudonym) can be identified as a field—a system characterized
by a series of power relations, where positions are viewed as more or less dominant,
reflecting an individualʼs access to capital (Jarvie & Maguire, 1994; Jenkins, 1992).
In turn, capital is the capacity to exercise control over oneʼs own future and the
future of others, thus constituting a type of power (Ritzer, 1996).
Capital can occur in a number of forms: economic (that which can be immedi-
ately and directly converted to money), cultural (such as educational or professional
credentials), social (such as social position and connections), symbolic (from honor
and prestige; Calhoun, 1995; Ritzer, 1996), and physical (the development of bodies
in ways recognized as having value; Shilling, 1997). The nature of social position
then is defined in relation to oneʼs access to the relevant form of capital, as defined
by the particular context. Of importance here is not only Bourdieuʼs appreciation
of both social structures and agency in delineating an individualʼs position but that
such individuals may be acting without conscious realization and hence may be
reproducing the very structures that limit them (Hunter, 2004).
Specifically, we use Bourdieuʼs concept of symbolic violence to explain how
order and restraint are established and maintained through indirect cultural mecha-
nisms, as opposed to direct, coercive control (Jenkins, 1992). Symbolic violence
refers to the imposition of systems of symbolism and meanings upon groups “in
such a way that they are experienced as legitimate” (Jenkins, 2002, p. 104). It
is “violence which is exercised upon a social agent with his or her complicity”
(Bourdieu & Wacquant, 1992, p. 167)—that is, individuals accept the dominant
values and the behavioral schema currently utilized in the field. This legitimacy
obscures the existing power relations, often making them unrecognizable to, and
misrecognized by, agents (Kim, 2004). Of particular importance here is the con-
textual discourse used, with the imposition and enforcement of a “correct way” at
the expense of limitless other ways (Schubert, 2002). We therefore draw on this
concept of symbolic violence to explore the ways in which the discourses used in
professional coaching help create and recreate the field, giving current practice an
entrenched legitimacy.
Of additional importance is Bourdieuʼs notion of habitus that leads directly to
practice. Habitus is defined as the “product of internalisation of the principles of
a cultural arbitrary capable of perpetuating itself” (Bourdieu & Passeron, 1977, p.
31). Thus, it links the decision-making of the individual to wider social structures.
Although it is a concept that predates his work, Bourdieuʼs use of habitus reflects
the human embodiment of generative dispositions and classificatory schemes; hence,
it is considered to be “not just manifest in behaviour but an integral part of it”
(Jenkins, 1992, p. 75). The embodiment of habitus is seen in an individualʼs deport-
ment—in manner, demeanor, and generally “how they see and carry themselves”
(1992). Habitus therefore disposes actors to behave in certain ways. Additionally,
since it is the consequence of “imminent regularities and tendencies” (Bourdieu &
Wacquant, 1992, p. 135), habitus is often a process that exists beyond conscious
control or awareness.
As the body acts as a social memory, where the basics of culture are imprinted
and encoded in both a formal and informal manner (Jarvie & Maguire, 1994), the
concept of habitus, in tandem with that of symbolic violence, is particularly useful
03Cushion(142).indd 144 5/17/06 7:25:55 AM
The Case of Albion 145
in the context of the present study. The occupation of a social position influences
the development of patterns of behavior. The knowledge needed to occupy that
position requires the development of a habitus (1994). Because habitus is acquired
as a result of the occupation of a position within the social world, not everyone
has the same habitus. Additionally, although those who occupy the same position
tend to have similar habitus (Ritzer, 1996); “each person has a unique individual
variant of the common matrix” (Wacquant, 1998, p. 221). Differences thus exist
both between and within different forms of habitus, highlighting the inconsistent
imposition of the social world and its structures on differing actors. Such an analyti-
cal framework holds the potential to capture the reality of different groupsʼ unequal
interactions and situations, such as those of coaches and players, while grounding
that asymmetry socially (Calhoun, LiPuma, & Postone, 1995). Similarly, it offers
insight into the development of internalized schemes (i.e., habitus) that produce
and reproduce practices.
The actions of the participants under study are placed within a framework
outlined by Bourdieu. This framework is useful in this case, as it can contribute to
our understanding of the behaviors of coaches and players.
Context and Method
The national governing body of soccer in England, the Football Associa-
tion, delegates to its member clubs the responsibility for developing professional
players. In turn, the clubs delegate the function and detail of the process to their
youth sections (i.e., players younger than 18–19 years). Such sections are gener-
ally tasked with providing a structured training program for their youth players
that also includes educational and vocational dimensions comprising on-the-job
training, access to further education, and work experience (Harrison, 1994; Parker
1996). The program is perceived as enabling the clubs to lay a foundation in terms
of player (and ultimately financial) investment and development (Parker).
Although clubs throughout the four professional divisions in England (and
Wales) vary in their requirements for youth development, those at the elite level
charge such a responsibility to an associated academy. Players between 9 and 18
years of age compete for academy places that are generally considered a prereq-
uisite for a professional career. Places within an academy are usually awarded on
the basis of a successful invitational trial, arranged by club “scouts” who scour the
region for talented young players, and competition is fierce. While a place at an
academy grants potential “access” to the professional game, it remains a tenuous
foothold, as the actions of young players (both on and off the field) are constantly
reviewed and evaluated by the coaches. Subsequently, if a new player is found (by
the academy coaches) to be a better prospect, he can replace an existing player,
who is then released. Within the academy structure, players attend the club for
evening training and weekend games until age 16. A select few are then invited to
train full-time for 2 years, at the end of which they are either released by the club
or offered a professional contract.
The club under study, Albion Football Club, is a medium-sized Premiership
(the highest professional soccer division in England and Wales) soccer club that
has been in existence for more than a century. Albion is structured like other clubs
and like them, despite outward signs of optimism, has seen better days. The club
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146 Cushion and Jones
incorporates 1 of the 42 Football Association registered academies. Players in these
academies are constantly scrutinized by coaches who are in turn predominantly
judged, despite the official developmental ethos, on game results. Both coaches
and players then are subject to a heavy climate of expectancy. Interactions between
coaches and players in academies are predominantly limited to training sessions
and games. During away fixtures, the coaches normally travel on the bus with the
players, albeit in a different section.
Instrumentation
Data were collected within an ethnographic framework that included par-
ticipant observation and interviewing (Patton, 1990). This approach ensured that
the participantsʼ behaviors, interpretations, and meanings, and the changes that
occurred within them during the course of the 10-month season-long study, would
be captured and thus offer insight into the varying and evolving perceptions of
coach–player interactions.
Observations were conducted over periods ranging from 2 to 4 days of each
week during the season in question and were of varying length, from 2 hours to
day-long, depending on the given playerʼs schedule of games, training, and educa-
tion. A distinguishing feature of this observational strategy is that, to some extent,
the researcher is also a participant. The degree of participation varies from com-
plete immersion to complete separation and can change over time (Patton, 1990).
In this study, I (C.C.) never actively coached a group of players but only assisted
in organizational matters, for example, marking out the boundaries for practices.
More often than not, I was a spectator. Over time, my presence as an observer
became part of the practice context. Initially, I spent much of the time with Greg,
the under-19 coach. This created a rapport that allowed me to be accepted by the
coaching staff. This rapport was enhanced by my own history in the game and my
ability to engage in “shop talk” and related topics with the coaching staff.
This connection with the coaching staff initially created a distance between
me and the players, since they perceived me to be part of the “staff camp” and thus
someone who uncritically supported the coachesʼ agenda. My genuine interest in
the players changed this perception.
The observations resulted in comprehensive written field notes and transcripts
of audio-taped interviews. All field notes were dated and included contextual
information such as location, those present, physical setting, type of social interac-
tions and who composed them, and activities. The field notes were reviewed and
expanded continually, especially after coaching sessions.
In addition, a series of in-depth semi-structured individual interviews was con-
ducted with a number of the coaches at Albion at seasonʼs end. More specifically, the
5 coaches who were predominantly involved with the academy were interviewed,
with each interview lasting between 1.5 and 2.5 hours. These interviews took place
in the coachʼs respective office before or after a training session. The interviews were
structured around issues related to the coachʼs working behaviors, his justification
for coaching, and his interactions with the players. Additionally, two group inter-
views were conducted with the players, both of which lasted approximately 2 hours
and were conducted at the clubʼs training ground. Here, similar issues were explored
from the playersʼ perspective. All of the interviews followed the observations
03Cushion(142).indd 146 5/17/06 7:25:55 AM
The Case of Albion 147
and were, to a certain extent, informed by them; hence, the interviews were valuable
in providing collaborative evidence or triangulation for the data already collected,
adding a new dimension to existing issues, and identifying new issues (Miller &
Glassner, 1997). The interviews were considered of particular value in the studyʼs
context because of their potential to yield rich insights into peopleʼs experiences,
opinions, aspirations, and feelings (May, 1999).
Participants
Five coaches and 24 players from the club were observed during training ses-
sions and games over the course of a season. Like other academies, Albion fielded
two competitive teams on a Saturday: an under-19 team (also known as “the youth
team” and coached by Greg and Andy) and an under-17 team (coached by Pete and
his assistant Bob). In general, the under-19 team was composed of full-time academy
players, aged 17–18 years, while the under-17 team largely consisted of players,
aged 15 and 16 years, who were still in school and who only trained part-time.
Andy was the director of the academy. The education and welfare of the players was
the responsibility of Dean, who also served as technical advisor. Andy, Greg, and
Pete had been professional soccer players. Bob had been a full-time youth coach
at other clubs for almost 20 years, while Dean was a former physical educator and
semi-professional soccer player and coach. All the coaches therefore had a great
deal of experience in the sport. (All coaches have been given pseudonyms.)
There were also 4 players who, although eligible to play for the under-17
team (“first years”), had already left school and were therefore incorporated into
the under-19 squad (“second years” and “third years”) for day-to-day training.
The terms first years, second years, and third years refer to the time elapsed since
the players left school. Pete worked with Andy, Greg, and Dean during the week.
Pete and his assistant Bob worked with a separate group (the under-17 squad) in
the evening and during school holidays.
The participants in the group interview were randomly sampled to represent
a cross-section of academy players in terms of age, experience, and career stage.
Eight players were assigned to two groups. The first group consisted of two first-
year players and two second-year players, and the second group consisted of one
first-year player and three second-year players. Focus groups were used with the
players. Such groups provide an “audience” and enhance the use of a variety of
communication avenues compared to other interview forms. Such variety taps into
a wide range of understanding while providing a supportive environment for open
conversation about sensitive subjects (such as those under investigation) that could
easily be left underdeveloped in individual interviews (Kitzinger, 1994).
Data Analysis
The data analysis involved a gradual shift from data collection and analysis to
analysis and description to write-up and theory (Hammersley & Atkinson, 1995).
The process involved three overlapping levels. First, the data from the interviews
and field notes were organized following the general principles of grounded theory.
The objective was to build a system of themes that emerged from the unstructured
data representing coach–player interactions within an active, unfolding coaching
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148 Cushion and Jones
context. These themes were conceptually grounded both in the ideas and objectives
informing the research and in the empirical observations.
Second, the classification of themes was used to produce a descriptive account
of coach–player interaction at Albion. Although these descriptions highlighted the
various relationships under study, they did not capture the true complexity of social
interactions. Consequently, a third level of analysis was employed to situate data
within a theoretical framework that enable us to move from concrete description
to abstraction. Doing so increased our understanding of the behavioral range and
variability of the social actors (coaches and players) and structures (the profes-
sional club environment) under study and how they interacted to create problematic
coaching practice. Importantly, this was not a prejudgment about how to read the
data but a process of supporting analysis and interpretation.
Analysis of Results
Discourse, Pedagogic Action, and Symbolic Violence
In constructing the notion of symbolic violence, Bourdieu and Passeron (1977)
drew heavily upon Weberʼs (1968) work on legitimate authority and domination.
This reflects a concern about the ways strategizing agents act from a variety of
structured and structuring positions to more or less reproduce existing configura-
tions of privilege (Schubert, 2002). Within the academy at Albion, these positions
included traditional sociological designations based on not only perceived power,
powerlessness, roles, and access, but also various ways of “truth-telling” as manifest
in coachesʼ speech (Bourdieu, Passeron, & de Saint Martin, 1994). This speech was
heavily authoritarian in nature, while the general context was almost exclusively
coach-led. Such language shaped the contours of the observed coaching process and
affected how the coaches and players behaved toward each other. Consequently, the
interaction and subsequent relations of domination between the parties were made,
unmade and remade in and by this discourse (Bourdieu, 1977; Krais, 1995).
Such a finding is generally consistent with earlier work highlighting the use of
authoritarian behavior as a long-featured and highly pervasive facet of professional
soccer coaching (e.g., Butcher, 1987; Farmer, 1987; Nelson, 1995; Parker, 1996).
For example, Robson (1982) and Parker (1996) have argued that, although often
recognized as aggressive, such methods reflect traditional institutional discourse
within the sport and hence have been accepted as a kind of occupational hallmark.
Such beliefs are deeply rooted in the culture of professional soccer, with harsh,
authoritarian, and often belligerent coaching behavior viewed as a necessary aspect
of preparing young players for the rigors of the game (e.g., Parker, 1996; Roderick,
1991). This was confirmed by the coaches interviewed:
“Itʼs the tradition really; itʼs things they have experienced in the past. I think
thatʼs the bottom line.” (Pete)
Peteʼs assistant Bob agreed.
“I think itʼs the easiest way to do things when you feel under pressure and I
know that Iʼve done that. I think thatʼs part of the culture we all come up in
as well. It was certainly done to me in my life as a player.”
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The Case of Albion 149
While Dean commented on the conservative tradition within coaching.
“Coaches or coaching departments are very conservative [and] not really open
to change. Threatening people has been the traditional way of doing it. In a
lot of clubs the relationship between the manager and the players isnʼt what
you get in industry. Itʼs not sort of management and staff, itʼs management
and quite school-boyish, ʻdo as you are toldʼ stuff.”
At Albion, this authoritarian behavior manifested itself through a combination
of abusive language, direct personal castigation, and threats of physical exercise by
the coaches toward the players. Although explicit outbursts varied in frequency and
intensity, harsh personalized language was present at every training session. The
following examples, taken from the field notes, are typical of the interactions:
The players are sitting at the edge of the pitch in a semi-circle around Andy and
Greg, who remain standing. The game has ended in a draw, and the goalkeeperʼs
(D) mistake has led to a late equalizing goal:
Andy (to the group): “Well I was about to say well done, I mean there was
only a minute left to go. (To D) You should have taken his fuckinʼ head off
from that corner, just fuckinʼ knocked his head off. You know, Iʼm not being
funny but you can use your fucking hands. He can only use ʼis fuckinʼ head
and heʼs got there before you. His ʼead should have been flying off somewhere.
(To the group, raising his voice further) We should have won that game but
we all went to sleep, it [the ball] bounces in the fuckinʼ box, (to D) you donʼt
come off your line, fuckinʼ three points out the window. And I donʼt know
what youʼre arguing with Greg about, you know you need to come (to get the
ball) with two hands.”
Greg (to D, shouting): “Before you start, donʼt ever fucking answer any of the
staff back, ever! I saw it going in from way back.”
D: “I misjudged it.”
Greg (still shouting): “Misjudged it? So why do you fucking answer back?”
Before D has a chance to answer. “I couldnʼt give a fucking shit! Weʼve told you
what to do loads of times. Right!!!!! Too many of you are fucking answering
the staff back. Pack it in now or else you can fuck right off and I couldnʼt give
a shit. We arenʼt that fucking good and I have been saying it for too long now.
You lot answer him back, me back, the physio back. Bunch of fuckinʼ tarts,
thatʼs what yʼare, all of ya. That was a game we should have won 4–0, easy.
Oh no, not us. No fuckinʼ great player among them but they made it hard for
us because they stuck at what they were good at. Not us, all we want to do is
fuck about with it and do little fucking nutmegs (putting the ball between an
opponents legs and collecting it on the other side).”
***
A coaching session is just starting in the sportshall. The players have begun
to pass the ball amongst themselves in a circle. Greg arrives and formalizes
the practice by nominating two players to act as defenders in the circle with
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150 Cushion and Jones
those on the outside expected to keep possession. The players who make the
circleʼs rim frequently miss-place passes.
Greg stops the practice, “Circle shit, 5 minute warm up shit. . . . No, shitʼs
too kind. . . . Game Saturday against United, if we start like this against them,
then fuckinʼ god help us.”
Greg then organizes a passing practice where the ball is passed via the four
corners of the hall. One of the players controls the ball badly, loses possession,
and then jokes about it with another player.
Greg stops the practice, “E, if you want to fuck about, get into the car park, I
couldnʼt give a shit. Go on, fuck off, out.”
E says nothing and trudges, head down, out of the hall. The rest of the players
get press-ups and ʻshuttleʼ sprints as punishment for ʻtheirʼ mistakes.
Bourdieu (1989, 1990a) argued that in “advanced” societies, the principle mode
of domination is more symbolic than actual. Although it could be argued that the
violence apparent in the coachesʼ discourse here was as much real as symbolic (in
a verbal sense), it certainly held the players within a realm of obedience. This is
because the language employed was underpinned by a coaching culture saturated
by symbols of domination that in turn permitted such interaction to take place. Not
only was this evidenced by personal castigation of perceived inadequacies but also
by questioning the playersʼ masculinity (e.g., “Bunch of fuckinʼ tarts, thatʼs what
yʼare, all of ya”). Such gendered, autocratic, and hierarchical discourse reflects
the notion of hegemonic masculinity within soccer (Parker, 1996) and is both the
outward manifestation of the culture and its primary survival mechanism.
The fact that this domination was consistent and almost omnipresent ensured
that a process of inculcation, or habitus, occurred (Bordieu & Passeron, 1977).
Here, the culture became embodied, as those involved saw and understood their
actions as “sensible” and thus carried them out as a matter of routine. Consequently,
certain principles were internalized within the cognitive structures of the group
that in turn ensured the construction and reproduction of a current social order. In
addition to reflecting it then, the discourse legitimized such behavior by ensuring
that the players accepted the existing hierarchies of distinction (Bourdieu, 1977;
Swartz, 1997).
The primary medium for this imposition of symbolism and meaning (culture)
at Albion was the behavior of the coaches during sessions and games. Bourdieu
termed this cultural enforcement pedagogic action (Jenkins, 2002), and it was not
only responsible for reproducing an arbitrary culture but also the power structures
reflecting the interests of the dominant group (i.e., the coaches). Pedagogic action
is considered to be achieved through pedagogic work, defined as “a process of
inculcation which must last long enough to produce [an] internalization of the
principles of cultural arbitrary capable of perpetuating itself after pedagogic action
has ceased” (Bourdieu & Passeron, 1977, p. 31).
Such “work” was constantly in evidence at Albion, where the players were
continually berated for their performances and attitude with no right to respond.
For example, they were given little autonomy on a daily basis while being treated
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The Case of Albion 151
as members of an undifferentiated group. Consequently, the players usually moved
as a group, both during training and in their spare time (e.g., during meal times),
with individual activity directed by specific instruction—for example, to carry out
allocated “jobs” or when rehabilitating from injury. Alongside a curtailment of
individuality was a lack of privacy; changing, showering, and eating were com-
munal experiences. Thus, few opportunities existed in their daily work routine for
personal escape from the collectivity of the squad. Although the squad gave them
a sense of security and support, it also served as an automatic functioning and dis-
individualization of the regimeʼs power (Smart, 2002). Furthermore, the players
had no input toward, or choice about, their schedules, as the coaches determined
training routines and durations.
On the rare occasion when it did occur, consultation with the players was
characterized by coach-led team “talks” that only occasionally included seemingly
perfunctory requests for player input. Unsurprisingly, this was met more than often
by silence. The following excerpt illustrates a typical scenario:
The players are sitting, gathered around a wall chart that has been brought
outside. Greg and Andy are standing.
Andy: “All the staff here have equal authority, anyone talks back when they
are asked to do something then they will be gone that day. I donʼt care how
good a player they are, they will be gone.”
Andy draws the playersʼ attention to the chart.
“Looking at this we would have 9 points that is about mid-table, which is about
where we are. I think I would give us about 5 out of 10 so far, is that about
right?” None of the players respond.
Andy goes on to talk about the reliability of players; “You E, leaving the game
with 20 minutes to go, Iʼm fining you £15 by the way, double the next time it
happens. We need players to be reliable. N, the only reliable thing about you
is that when you get the ball I already know that youʼre going to miss. I just
turn my back now. Unreliable players get coaches the sack. We want you to
follow instructions. G, I tell you to pass the ball forward and right in front of
me you pass it back twice. Why? What does that say about you as players? I
donʼt mind if you say to me ʻAndy, I did it because of this and thisʼ but none
of you do. Am I right or what?” The players look down avoiding eye contact
with the coaches and say nothing.
In essence, the control exercised by the coaches and the club resulted in the players
being denied all choices about their professional and occupational experience and,
while within the confines of the club, their social experience.
“Good Players,” Favorites, and Rejects
Although individuals may believe in the power of their own agency, they are
only “actualizers of the potentialities that are socially instituted” (Kim, 2004, p.
367). Success in realizing this potential subsequently contributes to the accruement
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152 Cushion and Jones
of symbolic and cultural capital, and involves developing a habitus that meshes
with that of the organization to which the individual belongs. Such capital then,
being grounded in acceptance and an endorsement of wider cultural values, is
converted to the individualʼs advantage in his or her struggle for resources in the
social space. In turn, this space, together with the concept of capital, acknowl-
edges the value of something held (and distributed) by some members. Within
the current context, occupying the space of “good player” was seen to depend on
an individualʼs acceptance of a habitus similar to that established by the coaches.
Such an acceptance was viewed by the coaches as legitimate and valued behavior,
and was suitably rewarded by their attitudes toward those players as well as by
their perception of those playersʼ chances of “making it” (as professional soccer
players). Thus, the coaches were central figures in assigning capital valued by the
field amongst the players. Similarly, an examination of the discourse surrounding
this space of “good player” reveals how the doxa, or assumptions, about occupying
the space were legitimated and complied with.
Such a position supports existing work in affirming that coaches have a positive
bias towards players who are “conforming, co-operative [and] orderly” (Martinek,
1983, p. 65). Similarly, players displaying professional ideals were most favorably
looked upon by the coaches and personified the coachesʼ desire in relation to the
fulfillment of “professional values.” The significance attributed to such behavior
by the coaches was considerable and more often outweighed any innate talent pos-
sessed by the players, as these excerpts from the data suggest:
“The first thing I look at is the attitude of the player, not only on the pitch but
in training and even off the pitch. Thatʼs the first thing I look for. Then skill
and athletic ability.” (Bob)
Pete agreed.
“Their attitude is everything, attitude definitely.”
Andy . . . the Academy Director expands on this.
“I like to see a boy with a good attitude, and I mean everyone would say that,
good attitude to work, to his peers, the way he conducts himself off the pitch,
the way he conducts himself on the pitch in terms of work rate. Theyʼre the
things I look for.”
Thus, by living out everything that the coaches advocated, some players increased
their level of relational intimacy with the coaches (Parker, 1996). They did so by
buying into the game and by accepting the coachesʼ values, and thus were perceived
as “on the team” (Hunter, 2004, p. 181).
At Albion, many instances of coach partiality and selectivity demonstrated
that only lip service was being paid to the stated club policy of equality and cohe-
sion. Thus, it was possible to identify player subgroups distinct from the official
academyʼs hierarchical year groups. These subgroups were themselves hierarchi-
cally organized and could be termed as the “favorites,” the “peripherals,” and the
“rejects.” The ups and downs of team and player performance, along with injury
status during the course of the season, meant that the status of the “peripherals”
03Cushion(142).indd 152 5/17/06 7:25:57 AM
The Case of Albion 153
and “favorites” remained reasonably fluid. The “rejects” group, however, was less
susceptible to change. Membership in each group meant a different relationship
with the coach and a different experience in the practical coaching context. To be
a “favorite” brought positive conditions and rewards. These manifested themselves
chiefly through repeated selection for the team, virtually irrespective of personal
performance, so long as the team was winning. The players also clearly perceived
differences in the way the coaches, Greg and Andy in particular, addressed them
in and around the training ground during sessions and games. For example:
T: “The way some people are spoken to is different.”
M: “Off the pitch as well as well as on it.”
A: “Iʼve noticed that Andy will say ʻalrightʼ to everyone, but to some players
itʼll be a bit more, it will be ʻalright, and howʼs the leg,ʼ and ʻwill you be back
for Saturday?ʼ”
T: “In games and training too, if X makes a mistake no problem, but if Y makes
one, then heʼs (Andy) all over them.”
In direct contrast to the “favorites,” the “rejects” engendered what Parker (1996)
describes as a negative coach outlook that at times bordered on hostility. Greg and
Andy perceived them to be limited in soccer ability and, crucially, in “attitude.” This
resulted in the “rejects” being frequently and publicly chastised for making minor
mistakes. The following extract from the field notes illustrates the point at hand:
Greg is organizing the physical space for the upcoming practice whilst reflect-
ing on Saturdayʼs game.
“We were fuckinʼ awful first half. Did you see RB? I didnʼt! We might as
well have had 10 players out there. I sat ʼem down at half time and saw RB,
and couldnʼt fuckinʼ remember him playing. He might as well not have been
out there.”
Pete joins the conversation as they watch the players troop towards them.
Greg calls the players over and divides them into groups of 4. He explains the
practice and demonstrates; “nice and light, play it in, OK.”
The exercise commences.
“Well done, now change the 2 in the middle, well done.”
Pete joins in, while Greg stands at the side, watching.
Greg stops the practice, changes the rules and demonstrates. The players start
and make a mistake.
“RB, youʼre not fuckinʼ listeninʼ.”
To the group: “Punch it in, move towards the ball, have 2 touches.”
03Cushion(142).indd 153 5/17/06 7:25:57 AM
154 Cushion and Jones
“Sort out that touch, RB itʼs crap.”
To the group: “Well done, change the 2 in the middle.”
“RB, cʼmon run straight to the ball.”
“Stop. Hold it there. I donʼt want to pick on you RB, but that fuckinʼ move-
ment is crap. Cʼmon son.”
Greg demonstrates the required movement.
“Anyway, OK, thatʼll do boys, have a stretch, well done.”
The players stretch, some drink.
In addition to being subjected to hostile training conditions, the “rejects” were also
prone to much greater levels of criticism during games. Indeed, in one instance,
as demonstrated in the extract below, such a player was even substituted shortly
after the game had started:
IZ has been given a chance in the starting line up. The game is a close one with
both sides creating chances to score. After only 20 minutes IZ is substituted.
He walks away and sits next to the bench; he does not speak to anybody. None
of the coaches speak to him. At half-time the teams go to the dressing room,
but IZ stays out and sits alone on the bench, no one speaks to him.
According to Hunter (2004), distinctions among individuals are necessary
for some to accrue capital and be positioned to maintain the game. Certainly, the
data unearthed in the current study demonstrated that the coaches and players,
both between and within their respective groupings, did not face an undifferenti-
ated social space. This space resembles a battlefield, where the basis of identity
and hierarchy are endlessly disputed (Wacquant, 1998). Such antagonistic social
collectives are thus seen as being continually engaged in a struggle to impose
the definition of the world that is most congruent with their particular interests
(Bourdieu & Wacquant, 1996). Within this context, differentiation among the
players was used as an instrument of domination; hence, the coaches determined
the requirements of a “favorite,” who would progress and, consequently, how the
social world of the coaching process should be perceived. Similarly, by virtue of
their position and logic, the coaches were able to promote and impose upon the
players wide-ranging behavioral requirements in relation to the membership of
varying groups. Unsurprisingly, those who were labeled “rejects” possessed less
access to capital, less influence on the construction of the field, and less chance of
being offered a professional contract. The playersʼ positioning within the hierarchi-
cal group structure then, based upon their accrued symbolic capital within the field
(i.e., “favorites,” “peripherals,” “rejects”), led them to acquire a certain habitus on
the given scale of social differentiation.
A Collective Deception and Players’ Agency
Krais (1995), in interpreting Bourdieuʼs work, has argued that every mode
of domination presupposes a “doxic order” (p. 169): a system of practical beliefs,
03Cushion(142).indd 154 5/17/06 7:25:57 AM
The Case of Albion 155
shared by the dominated and the dominating. In other words, the doxic order reflects
the interest that individuals have in maintaining the game and, as such, requires the
complicity of all involved, with the belief in their own agency stemming from their
social misrecognition. Here, “power relations are perceived not for what they objec-
tively are, but in the form that renders them legitimate in the eyes of the beholder”
(Bourdieu & Passeron, 1977, p. xiii). The actions of the dominant group come
to reflect a “taken-for-granted view of the world that flows from practical sense”
(Bourdieu, 1990b, p. 68). Such a misrecognition, being shared by the dominated
and dominating, is a “collective deception” (without a particular deceiver), as “it
is embedded in the habitus of [all of] the participants” (Kim, 2004, p. 366).
Similarly, both the coaches and the players at Albion bought into the legiti-
macy of the working climate. Indeed, Greg saw his harsh, aggressive, and some-
times threatening discourse as being in playersʼ best interests, a specific strategy
to improve their respective performances. It was a view typical of the coaching
team:
“I do it coz I know theyʼve [the academy players] got a great chance of making a
great living at a great job. And I think that Iʼm puttinʼ the right attitude in them,
coz if they donʼt show the right attitude theyʼre not gonna be at any football
club never mind this one. So when I say things like that I donʼt mean them
personally, but if they canʼt take it then they arenʼt going to be a footballer. So,
I think Iʼm that way coz I want them to be still in football and to enjoy the life
that I had. Thatʼs probably why I do it, to give them a chance at it.” (Greg)
When questioned further, Greg did not think his behavior was negative but a
challenge to the players to respond in a positive manner, to prove their worth and
strength of character:
“I pushed him and pushed him, it could have made him or broke him, and at
the moment it has made him. Heʼs sorted himself out, and decided ʻI am going
to get through this.ʼ Heʼs come through and I thought ʻgood lad.ʼ And I like
that, it would have been easy for him to go back home and say ʻfuckin donʼt
like that.ʼ So that is one definitely that has changed, and Iʼm pleased that itʼs
worked.” (Greg)
The above quote illustrates the misrecognition and legitimation of power
by the coaches at Albion. It is this acceptance of legitimacy that obscures power
relations and permits the imposition to be successful (Jenkins, 1992). Thus, it is
a form of intimidation that is unaware of its nature (Bourdieu & Passeron, 1977).
Certainly, the coaches at Albion viewed their actions as legitimate and justified
their dominating discourse as being in the playersʼ interests. Indeed, the players
did not perceive the actions of the coaches as overly abusive or discouraging but
instead saw them as motivational tools. The players were then expected to react
appropriately, as dictated by their place within the cultural interaction.
In examining the playersʼ responses, it was evident that, despite the sever-
ity of the discourse to which they were subject, their resistance was minimal.
Bourdieu (1991) believes that the complicity of the dominated is necessary if
symbolic subjugation is to be realized and explains that “one is only hooked if one
is in the pool” (Bourdieu, 1984b, p. 89). Similarly, his notion of “submission [as]
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156 Cushion and Jones
liberating” (1987a, p. 184) is useful here, as the players who succumbed to the
regime and followed its values received a more positive experience in return.
Success in the struggle for symbolic capital therefore requires “an inclination
to honour and abide by the rules of the game” (Kim, 2004, p. 366). This shared
understanding encompassed what to value, what to avoid, what to desire, and so
on. Those players who participated in the “game” then, were seen to accept and
endorse the legitimacy of the dominant values and classification schema associ-
ated with it, as imposed by the most powerful (i.e., coaches; Kim, 2004). Indeed,
the data revealed that the players at Albion arrived every day and took part in the
sessions as required. In this respect, the players bore the indisputable imprint of
their habitus that was formed in the context of their social position at the club.
Subsequently, it inculcated them into a worldview based on, and reconciled to,
such a position (Bourdieu, 1984; Shilling, 1997).
A form of symbolic violence was thus evident at Albion that kept the players
“in their place,” as they “misrecognized their role as unquestioning of authority”
(Hunter, 2004, p. 180). This misrecognition was fed by the playersʼ desire to become
professionals (“becoming a pro”) and a perception of the coaches as the “gatekeep-
ers” to such a future that overrode any dissatisfaction with the established working
climate. In pursuing their own goals then, the players engaged in social practices
that contributed to the existing structure and helped to reproduce it. In this respect,
the complicity of the dominated becomes obvious as an essential element within
symbolic violence that can only be exerted on a person predisposed through the
habitus to feel it. The players were therefore willing to forgo a critique of their
position to follow the instructions of coaches whom they respected as former pro-
fessional players and as the means for becoming professionals themselves.
J: “I quite like Pete, because of where heʼs been and what heʼs done really.
Heʼs been there and done it.”
N: “Yeah heʼs someone whoʼs played before, who knows what itʼs like. I
respect that.”
R: “Yup. Heʼs got to be someone who knows what heʼs talking about, worth
listening to. Heʼs someone who can do what heʼs saying.”
In this respect, the cultural capital or the “weight” possessed in the structure of
power relations by the coaches enforced a complicity on the academyʼs players. The
coachesʼ discourse was viewed as the legitimate culture of the field, as an axiom
that the players were unwilling to criticize. In this way, pedagogic action can be
seen to produce dispositions that generate “correct” responses from those subjected
to it (Jenkins, 1992). It is a concept also alluded to in the work of Michel Foucault
(1977, 1979) who concluded that power is not simply imposed on the powerless
but rather “invests them, [and] is transmitted by and through them” (Smart, 2002,
p. 77). In this respect, the players became, and affirmed their roles as, “docile
bodies” (Foucault, 1977), positions that were manifest through obedience to the
coachesʼ normalizing power.
Not solely helpless or at the mercy of social forces, an individual in this situ-
ation can resist in various ways (Foucault, 1977; Giddens, 1984). The players in
the current study obeyed the coaches but did not look to endorse their behavior or
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The Case of Albion 157
agree with them. This resistance often took the form of impression management
(Goffman, 1959). The majority of academy players presented themselves as submis-
sive and compliant workers while at the same time partaking in both physical and
verbal forms of resistance to the regime to which they were subjected. A simple
example of this was skipping their college classes (for which they were punished
by the coaches):
Greg: “They all bunked off their core skills, Deanʼs turned up and the United
boys are there but none of our lot. Heʼs called me at home, so Iʼve said get
them in for 5 oʼclock. Dean said what shall we do. I said nothing. He spoke
with them at 5:30 and said that Greg will be down in a minute, 7:30 I went
down, just to really inconvenience them, piss ʼem off like. Told ʼem theyʼve let
the club and themselves down, that it shouldnʼt fuckinʼ happen again. Youʼve
never seen a dressing room empty so fuckinʼ quick.”
The players also used being “busy” as a form of impression management. For
the players, this meant secretly conserving effort during training: The data from the
focus group interviews showed that any player who acted “too eager” or did “too
much” (player focus group) was labeled as “busy” and hence had the potential to
be marginalized by his peers. To maintain good relations with each other, players
tried not to appear over-keen, thus engaging in a degree of “output restriction”
(Collinson, 1992; Parker, 1996). Such action was also viewed as a means of col-
lective resistance against Gregʼs control, as it stopped players from volunteering
and asking questions during coaching sessions.
The coachesʼ concern about peer group influence indicated that they were
aware of it and that some of the playersʼ desired “impressions” were transparent.
Dean explains:
“Peer pressure is a problem, anyone who asks for help with their game or even
does demonstrations for the staff is labeled as ʻbusyʼ.”
Playing ability, and the expression of that ability in games and training, had
a property-like nature amongst the players and coaches. In this respect, playing
ability was a form of cultural capital, symbolic capital, or both, and was perceived
as easily transferable to economic capital (Cicourel, 1995). Consequently, the
apparent lack of such capital encouraged the players to continually maneuver to
improve their position and status in relation to each other, despite not wanting to
be labeled as busy. The players then appeared to be caught in a complex web of
behaviors driven by conflicting motivations to both impress their coaches and avoid
marginalization by the peer group:
“Weʼre in together like, a team, so you know I ainʼt ʻbusyʼ. But at the end of
the day if I make the other guy feel like crap, it will affect their game, then no
threat. Itʼs dog eat dog here, youʼve got to look after yourself.” (Player, A)
Such jockeying was a planned calculation on the part of the players. It was a strat-
egy whereby they tried to “safeguard or improve their position and impose the
principle of hierachisation most favorable to their own products” (Bourdieu &
Wacquant, 1992, p. 101). In this respect, it appeared to counter any “collective
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158 Cushion and Jones
peer-group action,” thus helping to maintain the hierarchical status quo within
the academy.
Despite some attempts at resistance, the dominant picture of player participa-
tion in the academy was one of compliance to the regime. With Academy places
being so highly valued, fear of exclusion and of being labeled a “reject” surpassed
any meaningful questioning of, or resistance to, the coachesʼ actions. Such relative
passivity was justified by a belief among the players that they could not afford to
get the coaches “off-side” (i.e., angry with them) and that the coaches generally
“know what theyʼre doinʼ really. After all, theyʼve been there and done it” (player
N). Such complicity was reinforced by the coach-delivered “discourse of right”
(Foucalt, 1979) that was a constant presence at the academy. Such a discourse
served to articulate the power invested in the coachesʼ position and in the playersʼ
obligation to obey.
Conclusions
The aim of this paper was to provide an insight into the youth coaching culture
evident at a professional English football club. The work of Pierre Bourdieu was
used to understand and critique coaching practice. Such a concept aims to generate
understanding about systems of domination and the power relations that create and
sustain them. Certainly power relations, in their extent and severity, were a dominant
feature of the coaching context under study. Here, the coaches used authoritar-
ian actions to define and categorize the players as “good” or “bad.” The players
accepted these definitions; the coaches were the unquestioned and unquestioning
gatekeepers to the playersʼ aspirations for success within the game.
The coachesʼ practice appeared to be a product of their habitus, an often uncon-
scious process related to the internalization of a cultural arbitrary. Far from being
actively resisted, such actions were perceived (sometimes grudgingly) as natural
by the players, who entered into the collective deception. Consequently, the power
exercised at the Albion academy elicited the consent of both the dominant and
the dominated, and was therefore perceived as legitimate from both perspectives
(Swartz, 1997). Such a misrecognition of power is central to Bourdieuʼs notion of
symbolic violence, as it refers to an “invisible” mode of domination that prevents
it from being recognized, even by the dominated (Krais, 1995). In addition, this
process of inculcation was cumulative (Jenkins, 1992), so the players understood
the actions of the coaches. Consequently, the habitus acquired by the players acted
as the basis for their perception of an acceptable, and in many ways expected,
coaching “message.”
These results do not mean that we are able to capture the entire coaching
process or that which occurs at other Academies. The coaching process is obvi-
ously contextually defined. The results can be used however as a basis for other
research that examines the culture of professional youth soccer and the discourse
that both creates and sustains it (Jones, Armour, & Potrac, 2003). The use of a
theoretical framework based on Bourdieuʼs work can provide researchers in this
area with a set of tools to conduct such studies. This framework recognizes the
agency of players, incorporates issues of both knowledge and power, and could
be used by coaches regardless of sport to critically explore and reflect upon their
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The Case of Albion 159
own practice. Coaches however must be given the opportunity to engage in this
reflection. Interrogating practice in this way could impact the nature of symbolic
violence within the coaching process, thus ensuring that decisions are made with
careful consideration, not due to uncritical, culturally laden inertia.
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