A Woman Coach in a Man’s World – Elizabeth Entwhistle

from my inbox:

Hi there!

I coach the men’s team at Northwestern University in addition to coaching the Illinois U-17 and U-19 Tornados (boys’ select side). After seeing all the blogs and postings, I thought you might find this article, written by one of my men’s players with the intention of getting it into Sports Illustrated, interesting. Dave would love to have his name out there and I (though biased) think it’s pretty neat. Dave can tweak it however you’d want if you want to include it on the site.

Cheers,
Elizabeth Entwhistle

“Tough is Northwestern Rugby…Are you tough enough?” The team’s motto adorns black and white warm-up shirts worn by some of Northwestern University’s men’s rugby club as they begin their Thursday night practice. While players stretch their legs, Coach talks with the men’s varsity soccer coach, the team that had just finished practicing at the football team’s indoor practice facility. The heads of state grin as they talk shop. Coach’s smile spreads as dimples sink into the cheeks of the broad and fleshy face.

The jokes continue as heads over to the rugby players, who are finishing up their dynamic stretching. One player talks to another about hoping to get lucky with more than one female friend in the near future as they sit on the synthetic turf, stretching their groins. “Wait Cacherani, is that double team going to be your left and your right hand?” Coach calls out. Teammates erupt into “Ohhhhhs!” and laughter as the player smiles.

Coach calls the team together to begin drills for practice. The squad will scrimmage the Kellogg club, the Northwestern graduate school team, later in the session. “Come on James, that’s not a sprint!” There is no friendly grin on Coach’s mug now, only unblinking eyes. Whatever praise or correction comes from Coach’s mouth, nothing drives the message home better than those spotlight eyes directed at the recipient. To wrap up, players must remain in plank position, with only their elbows and toes touching the ground, until they cannot hold themselves up any longer. Players puff out their final effort and fall to the ground. Finally, only Captain James Walsh remains off the ground. Every muscle in his huge arms and sculpted back are quivering. At four minutes, James brings his knees to the field and Coach calls the players back in for more instruction.

They’re panting quietly as they stare up at Coach Elizabeth Entwhistle. Liz stares back with a cool gleam in her eyes, as if she didn’t notice her presence as the sole female. Through her styled bangs, Liz sees a group of young men that have the potential to become one of the nations’ top collegiate rugby teams. She’s going to prove to them—and everyone else—why she’s the right person, man or woman, to lead them.

Elizabeth Entwhistle approaches the restaurant table and contradictions slap you in the face. A yellow shirt pokes out from beneath a tight black blazer over an equally tight black skirt.  Her boots were not made for walking—they’re black and white stilettos with three-inch heels. This could be the answer for how she obtained the structured calves protruding just above her ankles. Could this woman, with her well-maintained auburn hair, really play and coach rugby?  “Being a female rugby player, you’re often thought of as being a butch women or being a lesbian, and that’s just the stereotype that’s around it,” says Entwhistle.

Still, Entwhistle squashes the conventional conceptions of the petite and passive “gentlewoman” underneath her high-heeled shoes. The 27-year-old Illinois native walks with a forward lean, as though she were continually climbing a hill. Her strong and sturdy frame is softened by her work attire. If she were a guy, you would expect that he had worn shoulder pads and a helmet at some point in his youth. It comes as, well, less of a surprise to learn that Entwhistle did play kicker for the football team her senior year at Palatine High School in Palatine, Ill.

Her complexion is soft and dark. A tan from a winter break in Mexico makes a last stand upon her skin. Although she wears no fingernail polish, her nails are neatly trimmed.  She is able to pull off the look of a refined businesswoman, while simultaneously sporting the physical characteristics of a conditioned competitor. During lunch, however, the strongest muscle in Entwhistle’s body appears to be her tongue. She jumps right into a conversation about the restaurant, Frontera Grill, where she was brought in as the special events and catering director 14 months ago.

Every minute of three hours is packed with discussion. She’s excited to learn more about “flavor profiles,” and begins a statement by saying nonchalantly, “You hear about the crazy things going on with Chilean Sea Bass…” It’s not the type of talk you might expect from a nine-year rugby veteran. “The big thing about life, and the job or whatever else is that I’m not just a rugby player, I’m not just working in restaurants,” she explains. “I’m not only an athlete, I’m not just a woman, I’m not these labels; there’s a whole big person.”

After a delicious authentic Mexican meal, Entwhistle prepares for the evening’s task—a private dinner party for 22 people from a large consulting firm. She starts in the kitchens, stopping and chatting briefly with the chefs, kitchen help, and anyone else she comes across. Once she finishes her rounds through the kitchens, Entwhistle heads to the Morales Room, named for the artist of the 12 paintings brightening its walls. The party will be held here tonight, and she needs to make sure everyone knows the table arrangements. From there she strides to her desk, an elevator ride and a staircase above the restaurant.

She takes a seat at her computer, nestled in a corner between another employee’s desk and a window looking out onto the corner of Clark and Illinois. Entwhistle has a little time to catch up on some other work while the party menus are printing, so she picks up her phone to check on future engagements. A burst of Spanish flows from her mouth, like a jack-in-the-box who had been waiting for the right moment to spring out. After the call, she hangs up the phone and runs to the printer.  The paper is out, so naturally she hops up onto a wheeled chair to reach the cabinet above her for the extra paper, a seamless switch from sophisticated professional to coordinated athlete.

The party is scheduled to start at 6pm, which is rapidly approaching. Entwhistle puts on a smile and whisks back downstairs, in order to introduce herself to the guest who coordinated the event and to make sure everyone has what they need. Printer ink has found its way under her nails and some sort of soot onto her suit, but she doesn’t notice—not during the middle of the game.

The players are grouped together, ready to run what Liz calls the continuity drill.  Each group of four or five players takes a ball and simulates various situations that may pop up in a game.  One player runs into the defender, keeping the ball away from him while getting the ball to a teammate. The concept of the drill is to recycle the ball quickly when a player is tackled, but things aren’t running smoothly enough for Liz. She allows the players to come back to their starting point before letting them have it. “This is not what I want,” she says, simulating running into a defender by pushing her body lightly against one of her players. “I want you to lower your shoulder and pop him!” With that, she drives her shoulder into her assistant, letting out a grunt as she demonstrates the intensity she wants from her team.

No one looks around. No one is laughing at the situation, or expressing their discomfort in getting hit or yelled at by a woman. They simply see what their coach wants from them, and go on with the practice. It takes a different type of person to look past a coach’s gender in such a male dominated sport, according to Jennifer Moilanen, a certified consultant with a Masters degree in sports psychology. The founder and owner of Ultimate Performance Consulting in San Francisco, she believes it’s more difficult for a female to coach a male team than the opposite because it’s not traditional. “Men are more physical, they maybe were raised to treat women differently than they would treat fellow men. They may speak differently with teammates versus how they would speak around females,” Moilanen says. “I think initially there may be some [unease] being themselves. And you want them to be able to be themselves.”

Moilanen is a former rugby player herself. She realizes the masculine culture and nature of the game. Understanding the rules and having the ability to demonstrate what players should be doing not only allows Liz to teach her team, but Moilanen thinks it also gives her a chance to build camaraderie with the players and earn some trust. Enwhistle first got that chance when another NU coach invited her to help out with the men’s side– and she pounced. From there, she headed to New Trier High School and the Illinois U-19 team, both all-boys. These situations solidified her love of coaching. “The proudest I’ve ever been is when the parents from one of the high schoolers come up to me and say, “We wish there was a women’s team. We wish that our daughters could play for you.” When Nolan, the coach of the U-19 program, says, “I’m really glad that you’re around to provide a different perspective. I like the fact that my daughter sees you coaching.” That’s pretty much the best compliment you can get,” Enwhistle remembers.

Liz is listed as one of two coaches for Northwestern on the USA Rugby Web site. There are over 200 teams listed as collegiate, male organizations. Liz is one of only five with women coaches on their active rosters. Moilanen sees how being a pioneer could also be appealing for female coaches.  “It is traditionally a male sport. It’s pretty male dominated, but it’s an opportunity for her to break down some gender barriers as well, and show that women can understand and play and coach rugby as men do,” she says.

The Northwestern team is about to get a front row ticket to that show; they only have 14 healthy players, a team needs 15 to play, and the scrimmage is about to start.

Liz runs over to her bag and begins to change into her rugby gear.
In Liz’s professional life, there is no sign of rugby. No poster, no ball or picture of teammates. Nothing rugby surrounds her desk besides a black and white print out of her team’s fall schedule on a tack board.  And yet the owner of this smiling, prominent face doesn’t only dish out pain in her free time; she serves up instruction to college athletes on how best they can perform.

Brutality and blood are a given on the rugby pitch. What Liz has taken from coaching and playing the game, however, amounts to more than a torn MCL or any of the other assorted injuries she’s endured.  For Liz, the sport has helped her break through nasty stereotypes and teach an independent woman how to deal with the pain life brings, according to her family.

“She was never one to let society tell her what to do,” Chris Entwhistle, one of Liz’s two younger brothers, says. Chris is three years younger than Liz and was a freshman in high school when his sister decided to play with the pigskin. Although he did hear razzing comments from his friends about having a big sis on the football team, he remembers the reception Liz received from her friends as warm and excited. Their mother, Joan Entwhistle, remembers events unfolding in a similarly smooth way. She recalls the applause Liz talked about earning at the homecoming pep rally from students who respected her choice.

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